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

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!

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.

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.

What New England is, is a state of mind, a place where dry humor and perpetual disappointment blend to produce an ironic pessimism that folks from away find most perplexing