Quotes About Autumn

I love corduroys , because they are really comfy and they're cozier than jeans. They come in nice autumn hues - colors that you can have fun with.

Pumpkin Seeds

The weeping willows, on the other hand, are evocative of death. They are a little contrived, a little exaggerated, still green in the middle of all the colors of autumn, and there is a human pathos to them.

Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees.... Are we not better and at home In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? A little while and night shall come, A little while, then, let us dream...

But now the days are short,I'm in the Autumn of the year,And now I think of my lifeAs vintage wine from the old kegs.From the brim to the dregsIt poured sweet and clear;It was a very good year!

Excessive hype, bankruptcy, cash burning like autumn leaves - such is the stuff of short-selling.

'Tis Autumn! and the short'ning day, The chilly evening's sober gray, And winds that hoarser blow; The fading foliage of the trees, Which rustles sere in every breeze, The approach of Winter show.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that the new year doesn't begin for me in January. The new and fresh has always come for me in the Fall. Ironically, as leaves are falling like rain, crunching beneath my feet with finality, I am vibrating with the excitement of birth and new beginnings.... My year begins in Autumn.

The day after the day that I walk out the front door and the air is crisp, with just a hint of the Autumn days ahead, I put cinnamon in my coffee.

The autumn air is chill and damp. As he does each morning at just about this time, Adolf Hitler emerges from the artificial light of his concrete bunker into the morning sun. He holds his two-year-old German shepherd Blondi on a short leash for their daily walk through the thick birch forest. A fussy man of modest height and weight who is prone to emotional outbursts, Hitler wears his dark brown hair parted on the right and keeps his Charlie Chaplin mustache carefully combed and trimmed. Hitler

I remember that night as a scent, smoke first , then Montana sagebrush, that distant but forever threat of autumn in the air, and a passion caught in that scent, just a feeling that still wells up in me when I smell anything remotely like it, all of us purely alive and it up by the fire like fresh devils in the dark.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

They conducted their love affair in the room above the abandoned corn exchange as the autumn weather came lop-leggedly in from the east: now a warm day, now a sunny one, now four days of cold winds and thin rain.

The wind was picking up, and the Scarecrow shivered.

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère L'automne est morte souviens-t'en Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre Odeur du temps brin de bruyère Et souviens-toi que je t'attends

I love the autumn—that melancholy season that suits memories so well. When the trees have lost their leaves, when the sky at sunset still preserves the russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, it is sweet to watch the final fading of the fires that until recently burnt within you.

Ja volim jesen, to je žalosno godišnje doba kao stvoreno za uspomene. Kada stabla više nemaju liš?e, kada nebo zadržava još i u sutonu ri?u šaru koja pozla?uje uvelu travu, slatko je gledati gdje se gasi sve ono što je još nedavno gorjelo u vama.

So here we all were in the mystic sunset of the autumn hills—old Scribonius Libo in his toga prætexta, the golden light glancing on his shiny bald head and wrinkled hawk face, Balbutius with his gleaming helmet and breastplate, blue-shaven lips compressed in conscientiously dogged opposition, young Asellius with his polished greaves and superior sneer, and the curious throng of townsfolk, legionaries, tribesmen, peasants, lictors, slaves, and attendants.

Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold. Then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell

Colourful autumn is a tristful travel to the pale Planet of Melancholy!

My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

old pear tree starlings announce harvest time

But the trees were gorgeous in their autumnal leafiness - the warm odours of flowers and herb came sweet upon the sense.