Quotes About Autumn

Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard. [ Give me the splendid silent sun ]

For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night, In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me, And his arm lay lightly around my breast - and that night I was happy

Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker.

Such days of autumnal decline hold a strange mystery which adds to the gravity of all our moods. Every step that Time takes imprints upon the fields as they grow bare and brown...

Such days of autumnal decline hold a strange mystery which adds to the gravity of all our moods.

It's spider season. Every year, right about now, thousands of the godless eight-legged bastards emerge from the bowels of hell (or the garden, whichever's nearest) with the sole intention of tormenting humankind.

CHAPTER I On a bright autumn day, as long ago as

I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one near or far To keep the world from being mine.

October is not only a beautiful month but marks the precious yet fleeting overlap of hockey, baseball, basketball, and football.

To-day one half remembers With a sigh, In the yellow-mooned Septembers Long gone by, Many a solitary stroll With an overflowing soul...

Since I wrote you last, the summer is past and gone, and autumn with the sere and yellow leaf is already upon us. I never knew the time to pass so swiftly, it seems to me, as the past summer. I really think some one must have oiled his chariot wheels, for I don't recollect of hearing him pass, and I am sure I should if something had not prevented his chariot wheels from creaking as usual.

When dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sun-beam throws Upon the weary waste of snows...

The last faded autumn leaflet hangs from a frozen branch, just a short fall from the tree to winter.

The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. Tristran could smell the distant winter on the air—a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves.... the crescent moon hung white in the sky and the stars burned in the darkness above them.

It's peeking round the corner Playing hide and seek I see its icy fingers A frost'd rosy cheek — Days fall ever shorter Autumn's air is chilling Warmth no longer lingers Wild things are stilling

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of completion; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with Autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the substance of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?

Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves.... The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes.

For anyone who lives in the oak-and-maple area of New England there is a perennial temptation to plunge into a purple sea of adjectives about October.

The hush comes with the deepening of Autumn; but it comes gradually. Our ears are attuned to it, day by quieter day. But even now, if one awakens in the deep darkness of the small hours, one can hear it, a foretaste of Winter silence. It's a little painful now, and a little lonely because it is so strange.

Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable...the hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street...by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese.

The Earth's distances invite the eye. And as the eye reaches, so must the mind stretch to meet these new horizons. I challenge anyone to stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see a new expanse not only around him, but in him, too.

It was like that hush of spirit which we feel amid the bright, mild woods of autumn, when the bright hectic flush is on the trees, and the last lingering flowers by the brook; and we joy in it all the more, because we know that soon it will all pass away. The

...I see the turning of a leaf dancing in an autumn sun, and brilliant shades of crimson glowing when a day is done...

Your love is like your whispers on leaves in the autumn, and on petals in the spring, your love, you see, is the beauty you bring.