Do you love Pizza quattro stagioni, or do you prefer Vivaldi’s 4 Jahreszeiten? Here are some proverbs and quotes about the four seasons.
A swallow does not make the summer.
One good event does not mean that everything is going to be fine.
Beneath these green mountains where spring rules the year, the irbarbutus and loquat in season appear, and feasting on lychee, 300 a day, I shouldn’t mind staying eternally here.
Su Shih, Chinese poet
Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.
Carol Bishop Hipps
Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers, but the spring breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.
Do what we can, summer will have its flies.
He flies into the flame, the summer insect.
He was as noble and fair in face as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer.
The Hobbit – Chapter 3 – A Short Rest
I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
If the winter is too cold and the summer is too hot, you are not a hiker.
It is not summer until the crickets sing.
It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.
It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it.
It is the season not the soil that brings the crop.
Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own.
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
as I have seen in one Autumnal face.
One swallow doesn’t make a summer.
The bee works all summer and eats honey all winter.
The fire is winter’s fruit.
The grasshoppers sang all the summer, and starved all the winter.
Life of Charlotte Brontë
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools.
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree.
Edgar Allan Poe
The summer insect cannot talk of ice; the frog in the well cannot talk of heaven.
The summer insect knows not ice.
There are two seasons in Scotland: June and Winter.
Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
Until the crickets sing it is not summer.
When the fall is poor for mushrooms, the winter will be rich with snow.
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
Youth has its romance, and maturity its wisdom, as morning and spring have their freshness, noon and summer their power, night and winter their repose.
The Life of Charlotte Brontë — Volume 2
Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell