Seasons are divisions of the year, marked by changes in weather,
ecology, and hours of daylight. - Therefore all seasons shall be
sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With
greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of
snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh
thatch Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall, Heard
only in the trances of the blast, Or if the secret ministry of
frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to
the quiet moon. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Frost at Midnight
(1798). - What does winter or autumn or spring or summer know of
memory. They know nothing of memory. They know that seasons pass
and return. They know that they are seasons. That they are time.
And they know how to affirm themselves. And they know how to
impose themselves. And they know how to maintain themselves,
What does autumn know of summer. What sorrows do seasons have.
None hate. None love. They just pass. - Giannina Braschi, from
the "Pastoral"