می چسبد در این بهار کنار این شکوفه ها کنار باران های بی قرار و ناگهانی یک فنجان چای بهار نارنج.‎تو اگر بهار را صدا کنی می آید حتی اگر دلش جا مانده باشد میان برف‌ها

“It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.” 
John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga

“I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.“She turned to the sunlight .And shook her yellow head,And whispered to her neighbor:
"Winter is dead.”