Happy first day of April! I’m pretty excited to welcome a new month! Turns out that I’m not the only one who appreciates April. Here are some lovely quotes about the month of April from people wiser and more erudite than I.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“The first day of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.”
\n– Mark Twain<\/p>\n
“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.” “[W]ell-apparell\u2019d April on the heel “Our spring has come at last with the soft laughter of April suns and shadow of April showers.” “The sun was warm but the wind was chill. “Every April, God rewrites the Book of Genesis.” “April is a promise that May is bound to keep.” “April has searched the winter land And if you’re not a fan of April, this quote is for you: I really hope that the month of April is better for you than it apparently was for Mr. Eliot. May the days ahead be full of sun and flowers and laughs and warmth and beauty for you.<\/p>\n You may also like:<\/strong>\u00a0 Facts about the Vernal Equinox for the first day of Spring<\/a><\/p>\n Prior post: <\/strong>A look at origins of traditional Irish words<\/a><\/p>\n Don\u2019t miss a post! Please subscribe to Between Us Parents\u2019 completely safe, spam-free email list in the box in the top right corner of the page!<\/p>\n Please like Between Us Parents on Facebook<\/a>.<\/strong> You can also find me on Pinterest<\/a>, Twitter<\/a>, and Instagram<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Happy first day of April! I’m pretty excited to welcome a new month! Turns out that I’m not the only one who appreciates April. Here are some lovely quotes about the month of April from people wiser and more erudite than I. “The first day of April is the day we remember what we are […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4969,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[298,209],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4967"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4967"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4967\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4970,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4967\/revisions\/4970"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4969"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4967"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4967"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/betweenusparents.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4967"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n– William Shakespeare, Sonnet XCVIII
\n<\/span><\/p>\n
\nOf limping winter treads…”
\n– William Shakespeare<\/span><\/p>\n
\n– Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens<\/p>\n
\nYou know how it is with an April day.”
\n~Robert Frost<\/span><\/p>\n
\n– Author Unknown<\/span><\/p>\n
\n– Hal Borland<\/span><\/p>\n
\n– William C. Bryan<\/div>\n
\nAnd found her petted flowers again;
\nShe kissed them to unfold her leaves,
\nShe coaxed them with her sun and rain,
\nAnd filled the grass with green content,
\nAnd made the woods and clover vain.”
\n~Hannah R. Hudson, “April,” The Atlantic Monthly<\/i>, April 1868<\/span><\/p>\n
\n“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rains.”
\n– T.S. Eliot<\/p>\n