But there were certain early days in Casterbridge- days of firmamental exhaustion which followed angry south-westerly tempests-when, if the sun shone, the air was like velvet.

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want—oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!

Springtime to me used to mean doing things - bicycling, fishing, canoeing. Now it seems more like the fulfillment of a divine promise.

That is one good thing about this world…there are always sure to be more springs.

Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But lust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done; Love surfeit's not, Lust like a glutton dies, Love is all truth, Lust full