The best Quotes by Hal Borland

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.

July is a blind date with summer.

Without birds, where would we have learned that there can be song in the heart?

Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable. The hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese.

March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice.

April is a promise that May is bound to keep.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again.

July is hot afternoons and sultry nights and mornings when its joy just to be alive.

I've lived out West some... I've always liked the High Plains areas - eastern Colorado, eastern Wyoming, western Nebraska.

They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy a flight to Nebraska - and that's pretty much the same thing.

The 'mecca of college basketball is in Storrs, Connecticut.

Canaan? Is your mom religious or just super into towns of Connecticut?

It's actually an Algonquin word, "Connecticut". Land of the long tidal river.

They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy a flight to Connecticut - and that's pretty much the same thing.

Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime.

In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

The Germans have six months of winter and six months of no summer.

To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.

If I had my way, I'd remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.

Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August.

If June was the beginning of a hopeful summer, and July the juice middle, August was suddenly feeling like the bitter end.

July is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for six months and not doing any for the next six.

The world is full of magic. Small things become big. Winter turns to spring. One thing always changes into another.

Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example, you're walking along minding your own business, you're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of the sudden, you run smack into a pretty face. You begin to get weak in the knees, your head's in a whirl! And then you feel light as feather, and before you know it you're walking on air! And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop! And you completely lose your head!

Summer romances end for all kinds of reasons. But when all is said and done, they have one thing in common: They are shooting stars-a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, a fleeting glimpse of eternity. And in a flash, they're gone.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

"Oh man, what a year it was!"
"Dude, it's mid January."

If we could have a January for once that doesn't feel like it's lasting for ten years, that'd be great.

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

June is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for five months and not doing any for the next seven.

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.

Some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone.

There is a time in the last few days of summer when the ripeness of autumn fills the air.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

Hey March, let's go out together in the next thirty days!

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

April is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for three months and not doing any for the next nine.

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.

The world's favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.

May is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for four months and not doing any for the next eight.

October is a symphony of permanence and change.