Margaret Mead Quotes

The force that makes the winter grow Its feathered hexagons of snow , and drives the bee to match at home Their calculated honeycomb, Is abacus and rose combined. An icy sweetness fills my mind , A sense that under thing and wing Lies, taut yet living , coiled, the spring .

It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.

Take rest; a field that has rested gives a beautiful crop.

With the advent of spring and beginning of the new harvest season the creators of abundance, our peasants, come out to the fields to sow with good aspirations and hopes.

Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.

Friends, the soil is poor, we must sow seeds in plenty for us to garner even modest harvests.

In the spring or warmer weather when the snow thaws in the woods the tracks of winter reappear on slender pedestals and the snow reveals in palimpsest old buried wanderings, struggles, scenes of death. Tales of winter brought to light again like time turned back upon itself.

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.

It is said that in some countries trees will grow, but will bear no fruit because there is no winter there.

Snowy winter, a plentiful harvest.

The grim frost is at hand, when apples will fall thick, almost thunderous, on the hardened earth.

In the Middle West now you got to put a brand on your soil, then in the Spring go on a round-up looking for it.

June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.

There would be no advantage to be gained by sowing a field of wheat if the harvest did not return more than was sown.

The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime. All the wild seeds of weed and thistle, the sprouts of vine and bush and tree, are trying to take the fields. Farmers must fight them with harrow and plow and hoe; they must plant the good seeds quickly.

Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plough is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter.

All which happens through the whole world happens through hope. No husbandman would sow a grain of corn if he did not hope it would spring up and bring forth the ear; how much more we are helped on by hope in the eternal life.