Jane Hamilton Quotes

I love feeling the crispness of fall and the sensuality of spring.

After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.

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.

Adversity is like the period of the rain. . . cold, comfortless, unfriendly to people and to animals; yet from that season have their birth the flower, the fruit, the date, the rose and the pomegranate.

I do hope that our spring will be starting shortly and we will all be able to enjoy some sunshine again.

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

The lotus comes from the murkiest water but grows into the purest thing.

Sweet April showers do spring May flowers.

From our ugliness will grow the soul of the world.

Sometimes when really terrible things happen, something beautiful emerges out of it.

Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else.

You can grow flowers from where dirt use to be.

Change always involves a dark night when everything falls apart. Yet if this period of dissolution is used to create new meaning, then chaos ends and new order emerges.

You ought to know that October is the first Spring month.

A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener.

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

Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.

Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it.

I was reborn," she said, her hot breath brushing his ear. "You were reborn," Tengo said. "Because I died once." "You died once," Tengo repeated. "On a night when there was a cold rain falling," she said. "Why did you die?" "So I would be reborn like this." "You would be reborn," Tengo said. "More or less," she whispered quietly. "In all sorts of forms.

When he plays all the flowers swap colors and years and decades and centuries of rain pour back into the sky

The spring rains woke the dormant tillers, and bright green shoots sprang from the moist earth and rose like sleepers stretching after a long nap. As spring gave way to summer, the bright green stalks darkened, became tan, turned golden brown. The days grew long and hot. Thick towers of swirling black clouds brought rain, and the brown stems glistened in the perpetual twilight that dwelled beneath the canopy. The wheat rose and the ripening heads bent in the prairie wind, a rippling curtain, an endless, undulating sea that stretched to the horizon.

The cloudy weather melts at length into beauty, and the brightest smiles of the heart are born of its tears.

So then the year is repeating its old story again. We are come once more, thank God! to its most charming chapter. The violets and the Mayflowers are as its inscriptions or vignettes. It always makes a pleasant impression on us, when we open again at these pages of the book of life.