Best 81 quotes in «april quotes» category

I have seen the Lady April bringing the daffodils, Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain.

In whatever position you find yourself, determine first your objective.

I shine in tears like the sun in April.

In April 1975 I was born and the Vietnam War ended. I could not let any American die in war before seeing an episode of Scrubs.

Man can only receive what he sees himself receiving.

I left Apple in April of 1984, pretty soon after the introduction of the Mac.

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware.

My biggest hero, Gregory Peck, was my birthday present on April 14, 1973. I just sat and stared at him.

Oh, to be in England now that April's there.

One of the reasons I was so proud to be born on April 3, is because I am such a big fan of yours.

One swallow does not make a spring, nor does one fine day.

Our opponents see an America in which every day is April 15, tax day. Well, we see an America in which every day is the Fourth of July.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

One of the great mistakes is to judge policies and programs by their intentions rather than their results.

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

Peace is joy at rest. Joy is peace on its feet. quoting her pastor in Salon, April 25, 2003

Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart.

Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!

Our wisdom comes from our experience, and our experience comes from our foolishness.

Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.

So sweet love seemed that April morn, when first we kissed beside the thorn, so strangely sweet, it was not strange we thought that love could never change.

That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ. And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.

Spring in the world! And all things are made new!

Spring makes everything look filthy.

Thanks be to God, the air is soft as in April in Seville, and it is a pleasure to be in it, so fragrant it is.

The aim of a joke is not to degrade the human being, but to remind him that he is already degraded.

Snow in April is abominable," said Anne. "Like a slap in the face when you expect a kiss.

The flowers anew, returning seasons bring; but beauty faded has no second spring.

The older I get, the faster I was.

The longer I live and the more I read, the more certain I become that the real poems about spring aren't written on paper. They are written in the back pasture and the near meadow, and they are issued in a new revised edition every April.

Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice. --The Sensible Thing

Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.

We need spring. We need it desperately, and, usually, we need it before God is willing to give it to us.

The Mets just had their first .500-or-better April since July of 1992.

What's good about March? Well, for one thing, it keeps February and April apart.

April was just beginning, and after the warm spring day it turned cooler, slightly frosty, and a breath of spring could be felt in the soft, cold air. The road from the convent to town was sandy, they had to go at a walking pace; and on both sides of the carriage, in the bright, still moonlight, pilgrims trudged over the sand. And everyone was silent, deep in thought, everything around was welcoming, young, so near— the trees, the sky, even the moon—and one wanted to think it would always be so.

Why should I deem myself to be a chisel, when I could be the artist?

But after it's all said and done, don't you want to grow old with your best friend? At the end of the day, that's who you want to share your life and laughter with. Someone who will be there in hard times to hold you tight. Someone who will fight for your honor and support your decisions. Someone who will encourage your dreams and help you to fulfill them.

But it is a sort of April-weather life that we lead in this world. A little sunshine is generally the prelude to a storm.

Coincidences undeniably imply meaning. I am rereading Hart Crane. I notice the date On which he stepped off that boat Was April 26. Tomorrow is April 26. The year of his suicide was 1932. I was four. I am now fifty-one. One undeniable implication in this case then Is that the year, today, Is 1979. Afterward, Crane’s mother scrubbed floors. Eventually, I may or may not Jump overboard. Are there questions?

Did you see the look on that guy's face when he hit the ground? He was all like "Come here, defenceless little girl,' and then you were like 'BAM! Take that, suck-face! I've got superpowers!

Each October I walk into the woods looking for bones: rabbit skulls, a grackle spine, the pelvis of a deer with the blood bleached out. What died in the lush of roses and mint shines out from the tangle of twigs that bind it to the place of its last leaping. The living lack that kind of clarity. In late April, when the water spreads out and out till everything is lilies and seepage, there is only the mystery of tracks, a rustle receding in the many reeds. And so the bones accumulate across my windowsill: the flightless wings and exaggerated grins, the silent unmoving reminders of where the glories of April lead.

Her laughter sounded like April showers, like whispered secrets, like glass wind-chimes.

It was April in Minneapolis and snowing, the flakes coming down in thick swirls enchanting the city

Yup, believe it: I was born on March 28, yet my name is April.

He faced Doug. His eyes were wet. "I am not one of your tricks, Douglas." "Of course, you're not." "That's what I feel like tonight, seeing you in there with all those bodies. One of a thousand nights. One of a thousand fucks. And fuck you for making me feel this way. And fuck you again for making me say fuck in this beautiful place.

... mixing Memory and desire

October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or shutting a book, did not end the tale. Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: "It is simply a matter," he explained to April, "of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.

Putting my hands on. What April couldn't fix Wasn't worth the time: Egg shell & dried placenta Light as memory. Patches of fur, feathers, & bits of skin. A nest Of small deaths among anemone. A canopy edged over, shadowplaying The struggle underneath As if it never happened

The longest piece of literature I've read lately was a tattoo on this biker I picked up last night. It said, If you're this close, you've gotta suck it.