Hubert de Givenchy Quotes

There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.

Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.

Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.

The earth has received the embrace of the sun and we shall see the results of that love.

Welcome, wild harbinger of spring! To this small nook of earth; Feeling and fancy fondly cling, Round thoughts which owe their birth, To thee, and to the humble spot, Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.

A lot of times, when I go back to books I loved when I was young, I don't quite understand what it was that I loved about them. Rereading 'The Secret Garden,' I felt a lot like Mary feels when she visits her garden.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

I love life. There's so much to learn and see all the time, and nothing nicer for me than to wake up, and the sky is blue.

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.

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.

Water is to me, I confess, a phenomenon which continually awakens new feelings of wonder as often as I view it.

The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.

The preciousness of life and the changes of weather and the beauty of seasons - all those things have always sort of dazzled me.

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.

I think optimism springs from nature. I'm a gardener. Nature has taught me about rhythm, the essence of every art. With so much that is terrible, nature gives me pleasure.

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.

This is a beautiful time of year with spring beginning to burst forth in many parts of the world, bringing all of its colors, scents, and cheerful sounds. The miracle of the changing seasons, with the reawakening and rebirth in nature, inspires feelings of love and reverence within us for God's marvelous, creative handiwork.

The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.