I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded… — Max Beckmann Copy Share Image
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers: Of April, May, or June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts,… — Robert Herrick Copy Share Image
Our children that die young are like those spring bulbs which have their flowers prepared beforehand, and leave nothing to do but… — Henry Ward Beecher Copy Share Image
I like the fog that creeps over the whole city every night about five, and the warm protective feeling it gives...and lights… — Irene Dunne Copy Share Image
“The morning after / my death” The morning after my death we will sit in cafés but I will not be there… — Elinor Wylie Copy Share Image
“Sardar Harbans Singh passed away peacefully in a wicker rocking-chair in a Srinigar garden of spring flowers and honeybees with his favourite… — Salman Rushdie Copy Share Image
“They had to die. They were killing innocent people. (Wulf) They were surviving, Wulf. You never had to face the choice of… — Sherrilyn Kenyon Copy Share Image
Dreams dawn and fly: friends smile and die, Like spring flowers. Our vaunted life is one long funeral. Men dig graves, with… — Matthew Arnold Copy Share Image
