Quotes About Autumn

Seeing him amid the yellow leaves and berry-colored hips of the spent roses, and the fading hollyhocks gone to seed along the garden wall, filled her heart.

It was now the stormy equinoctial weather that sounds the wild dirge of autumn, and marches the winter in. I love, and always did, that grand undefinable music, threatening and bewailing, with its strange soul of liberty and desolation.

The Ache of Autumn in Us There is a season for everything, a time for giving birth, a time for dying; a time for tears, a time for laughter; a time for mourning, a time for dancing. . . . —Ecclesiastes 3:1,2,4 The trees grow more restless; October wind weaves through them; they shake their arms in dismay as if to fight the coming cold and the grief of leaves going. Autumn air does a heart-dance on branches already gone barren; the misty air clings to golden leaves

Ya está el viento, muchachos, el viento de otoño, del otoño, violento o suave casi como un suspiro, una enfermiza alma de qué oscuros reinos? que revela en las cosas un herido pensamiento de sorprendidas criaturas.

A tangerine and russet cascade of kaleidoscopic leaves, creates a tapestry of autumn magic upon the emerald carpet of fading summer.

The autumn winds had blown away the dank gray clouds to show patches of blue mingled with the rosy pink of the dying day above the pointed slate roofs. The sort of day Marie-Angelique had liked. She always said weather that made your cheeks look pink could not be spoken ill of.

[T]he sun declined, and we both fell into twilight silence. Night, which in autumn seems to fall from the sky at once, it comes so quickly, chilled us, and we rolled ourselves in our cloaks...

The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.The paired butterflies are already yellow with AugustOver the grass in the West garden;They hurt me. I grow older.

The shadow of the tent's peak treads on its corner peg marking the hour. The moon split, no cloud nearer than Lucca. In the spring and autumn In "The Spring and Autumn" there are no righteous wars

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof, there thou mayest rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe, And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir.

Autumn, when it came, slipped in through a side door and suddenly was just there, like a guest who'd arrived early for a party.

Grace hit the sidewalk. The weather was brisk. Autumn had shoved summer aside with a patented gust.

Grace hit the sidewalk. The weather was brisk. Autumn had shoved summer aside with a patented gust. The leaves hadn't really started turning yet, but the air had that apple-cider quality to it.

Summer, and he watches his children's heart break. Autumn again and Boo's children needed him. Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.

Autumn was her happiest season.

Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.

The morning air of the pasture turned steadily cooler. Day by day, the bright golden leaves of the birches turned more spotted as the first winds of winter slipped between the withered branches and across the highlands toward the southeast. Stopping in the center of the pasture, I could hear the winds clearly. No turning back, they pronounced. The brief autumn was gone.

As the autumn deepens, the fathomless lakes of their eyes assume an ever more sorrowful hue. The leaves turn color, the grasses wither; the beasts sense the advance of a long, hungry season. And bowing to their vision, I too know a sadness.

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown... The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

If I could write words Like leaves on an autumn forest floor, What a bonfire my letters would make. If I could speak words of water, You would drown when I said "I love you.