Paul Celan Quotes

From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.

When the leaves of the strongest tree fall, spring is here.

Welcome as the flowers in May.

Spring time is the land awakening.

The hopeless hope is one of the early harbingers of spring, bespeaking an innocent belief that the world might right its wrongs and reverse its curses simply because the trees are coming into leaf.

Everything is new in the spring. Springs themselves are always so new, too. No spring is ever just like any other spring. It always has something of its own to be its own peculiar sweetness.

Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.

The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers: They call it 'easing the Spring.'

Spring. March fans it, April christens it, and May puts on its jacket and trousers.

Heaven's Virginia when the year's at its Spring.

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!

Spring is the time of plans and projects.

The generation of mankind is like the generation of leaves. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the living tree burgeons with leaves again in the spring.

The first wild-flower of the year is like land after sea.

Spring, / you are a pinking shears: you cut / fresh edges on the world.

The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.

The older I grow the more do I love spring and spring flowers. Is it so with you?

Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.

When the groundhog casts his shadow And the small birds sing And the pussywillows happen And the sun shines warm And when the peepers peep Then it is Spring

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

On the approach of spring, I withdraw without reluctance from the noisy and extensive scene of crowds without company, and dissipation without pleasure.

Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.

They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.