Percy Bysshe Shelley Quotes

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.

Emptiness is bound to bloom, like hundreds of grasses blossoming.

All human life has its seasons and cycles, and no one's personal chaos can be permanent. Winter, after all, gives way to spring and summer, though sometimes when branches stay dark and the earth cracks with ice, one thinks they will never come, that spring, and that summer, but they do, and always.

In my own life, as winters turn into spring, I find it not only hard to cope with mud but also hard to credit the small harbingers of larger life to come, hard to hope until the outcome is secure. Spring teaches me to look more carefully for the green stems of possibility; for the intuitive hunch that may turn into a larger insight, for the glance or touch that may thaw a frozen relationship, for the stranger's act of kindness that makes the world seem hospitable again.

Nature has different times.

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.

The death of what's dead is the birth of what's living.

Quite the opposite. I might fall on my face, but I feel born again.

Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.

Today is a new day for the land.

That is one good thing about this world... there are always sure to be more springs.

The cool wind blew in my face and all at once I felt as if I had shed dullness from myself. Before me lay a long gray line with a black mark down the center. The birds were singing. It was spring.

I always figure I have this tree and there's always some green fruit that's not ready to pick or blossoms that are ready to flower; there are always some ready to drop off too.

Spring is God's way of saying, 'One more time!'

Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit.

I love better to count time from spring to spring; it seems to me far more cheerful to reckon the year by blossoms than by blight.

The past is lying in flames. The future will rise from the flames within our hearts.

Life is about seasons, and I think you got to know the seasons.

The young is always there to replace what we call the old. That's the process, even in nature.

Things are constantly in flux and changing, and as crazy-making as that can be, it's also the thing that can get you through tough times - 'Well, things change.'

Like the seasons of the year, life changes frequently and drastically. You enjoy it or endure it as it comes and goes, as it ebbs and flows.

Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.

We are created by being destroyed.

It felt like a new day.