Top 32 Spring March Quotes
#1. Spring. March fans it, April christens it, and May puts on its jacket and trousers.
Henry David Thoreau
#2. March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice.
Hal Borland
#3. Spring
The season between winter and summer, comprising in the Northern Hemisphere
the months March, April and May.
The ability of something to return to its original shape when it is pressed down, stretched or twisted.
Cecelia Ahern
#4. The words came so fast they seemed to roll down hill. Nobody ever calls it all that; it's just spring wheat, but I like the words. They heap up and make a picture of a spring that's slow to come, when the ground stays frozen late into March and the air is raw, and the skies are sulky and dark
Mildred Walker
#5. March is the month of expectation,
The things we do not know,
The Persons of Prognostication
Are coming now.
We try to sham becoming firmness,
But pompous joy
Betrays us, as his first betrothal
Betrays a boy.
Emily Dickinson
#6. Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
William Wordsworth
#7. It's not just in the air. Spring is in the light. There's a different light in March and April. It's in the grass, leaves and flowers. It's in the birdsong and baaa of baby lambs. Mostly though, spring blooms in my heart
Toni Sorenson
#8. One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of a March thaw, is the spring.
Aldo Leopold
#9. It was a day in March, and the sky was a faint green with the first hint of spring. In Central Park, five hundred feet below, the earth caught the tone of the sky in a shade of brown that promised to become green, and the lakes lay like splinters of glass under the cobwebs of bare branches.
Ayn Rand
#10. Spring's an expansive time: yet I don't trust
March with its peck of dust,
Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers,
Nor even May, whose flowers
One frost may wither thro' the sunless hours.
Christina Rossetti
#11. The seventeenth of March. In other words, spring. Desmond, people who think themselves smart, I mean those in the height of fashion, women or men - can they afford to wait any longer before buying their spring wardrobes?
Colette
#12. March is a month of considerable frustration - it is so near spring and yet across a great deal of the country the weather is still so violent and changeable that outdoor activity in our yards seems light years away.
Thalassa Cruso
#13. I am going to notice the lights of the earth, the sun and the moon and the stars, the lights of our candles as we march, the lights with which spring teases us, the light that is already present.
Anne Lamott
#14. Tis now the twenty-third of march,
And this warm sun takes out the starch
Of winter's pinafore -
Methinks The Very pasture gladly drinks
A health to spring, and while it sips
It faintly smacks a myriad lips.
Henry David Thoreau
#15. January brings the snow / Makes your feet and fingers glow / February's ice and sleet / Freeze the toes right off your feet / Welcome March with wintry wind / Would thou wer't not so unkind / April brings the sweet spring showers / On and on for hours and hours ...
Michael Flanders
#16. Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.
Friedrich Schiller
#17. Here at CBS, spring also means March Madness. I love the name March Madness. I'm glad the PC police haven't made us change March Madness to early spring psychosis.
Craig Ferguson
#18. A light exists in Spring
Not present in the year
at any other period
When March is scarcely here.
Emily Dickinson
#19. POOR MARCH
It is the HOMELIEST month of the year. Most of it is MUD, Every Imaginable Form of MUD, and what isn't MUD in March is ugly late-season SNOW falling onto the ground in filthy muddy heaps that look like PILES of DIRTY LAUNDRY.
Vivian Swift
#20. Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
William Shakespeare
#21. Indoors or out, no one relaxes in March, that month of wind and taxes, the wind will presently disappear, the taxes last us all the year.
Ogden Nash
#22. Honest Winter, snow-clad, and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; But that long deferment of the calendar's promise, that weeping gloom of March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honour of May how often has it robbed me of heart and hope?
George Gissing
#23. Albion Park on a fierce spring morning. A mad March day of ice and fire. Thomas's feet beat a tattoo on the path. Every hair, every bristle on his chin stands on end. He is a small star-ship of blazing neurons- He is a librarian on his way to work, half-blind with sun and cold and memory.
Maggie Gee
#24. With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
Bayard Taylor
#25. In March winter is holding back and spring is pulling forward. Something holds and something pulls inside of us too.
Jean Hersey
#27. It's been a year and nine month since we broke up. It's almost the second spring since then. When I turn 20 in March, I'm going to buy myself a much deserved present. A one way ticket to Tokyo. As for luggage, all I need is my guitar and my smokes. - Nana
Ai Yazawa
#28. By March, the worst of the winter would be over. The snow would thaw, the rivers begin to run and the world would wake into itself again.
Not that year.
Winter hung in there, like an invalid refusing to die. Day after grey day the ice stayed hard; the world remained unfriendly and cold.
Neil Gaiman
#29. Where did Gabriel get a lily,
In the month of March,
When the green
Is hardly seen
On the early larch?
Grace James
#30. 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.
Emily Dickinson
#31. I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.
James Herriot
#32. In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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