“No other woman had that air of spring in January, that ever-bubbling fount of love and hope.”

“The fount of joy was bubbling in thine eyes,Dancing was in thy feet,And on thy lips a laugh that never dies,Unutterably sweet. Dance on! for ever young, for ever fair,Lightfooted as a frightened bounding deer,Thy wreath of vine-leaves twisted in thy hair,Through all the changing seasons of the year...”

“Springing into the air, I spun and delivered a nasty I-hope-someone-sees-this spin kick.”

“The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.”

“It was in the spring that Josephine and I had first loved each other, or, at least, had first come into the full knowledge that we loved. I think that we must have loved each other all our lives, and that each succeeding spring was a word in the revelation of that love, not to be understood until, in the fullness of time, the whole sentence was written out in that most beautiful of all beautiful springs.”

“The moon was obscured by heavy clouds. January was already past the mid-mark and the early delta spring would soon be on them. Already on the night was the faint, fresh smell of buddings and the intimacy that comes from the warm delta air trapped between slumbering earth and lowering clouds.”