Quotes from the Classics: March
I often hurry March in my desire to get to Spring, overlooking the quiet beauty and rising energy of this month. It is a month of transition, of endings and new beginnings. It holds both melancholy and anticipation and suspends them together in wonder. It’s gifts come slowly in whispers at first and then all at once in celebratory cheers. It is a time of nuance and subtlety, begging us to tune-in and be surprised and delighted. I love how these writers capture the essence of this special moment in the year. Enjoy!
I often hurry March in my desire to get to Spring, overlooking the quiet beauty and rising energy of this month. It is a month of transition, of endings and new beginnings. It holds both melancholy and anticipation and suspends them together in wonder. It’s gifts come slowly in whispers at first and then all at once in celebratory cheers. It is a time of nuance and subtlety, begging us to tune-in and be surprised and delighted. I love how these writers capture the essence of this special moment in the year. Enjoy!
Snow on flowers by Facundo Sosa
“The Dandelion’s pallid tube
Astonishes the Grass,
And Winter instantly becomes
An infinite Alas”
“Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.”
“After that hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs of spring for which I used to watch in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only—spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere: in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm, high wind—rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfold on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.”
“With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.”
“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.”
“And the Spring arose on the garden fair,Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breastRose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
Love in all things,
April Eileen