Quotes About Autumn

What a little vessel of sadness we are, sailing in this muffled silence through the autumn dark.

Childhood is supposed to be a radiant springtime but mine seems to have been always autumn, the gales seething in the big beeches behind this old gate-lodge, as they're doing right now, and the rooks above them wheeling haphazard, like scraps of char from a bonfire, and a custard-coloured gleam having its last go low down in the western sky.

When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze and touches with her hand the summer trees….' That's poetry. And 'Like painted kites the days and nights went flying by. The world was new beneath a blue umbrella sky.

I don't really like the autumn. For me it is the beginning of winter and I hate the winter. White, the colour of death.

It was autumn, the springtime of death.

Decline is also a form of voluptuousness, just like growth. Autumn is just as sensual as springtime. There is as much greatness in dying as in procreation.

Autumn. The grace in letting dead things fall.

I'm all about flannels and layers, so that's pretty much what I rock.

Good teams win in the fall. They don't win in March.

A mist is rolling over the fields. Why is a summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?

How indescribable the scent of autumn flowers was– barely a scent at all, really; just a faint, strange smell, pleasant but sad. Could a smell be sad or was it just the association with the dying summer?

She missed the autumn weekends at somebody's country house, leaf-fall and touch football, kids tumbling down grassy slopes, leaders and followers, all watched by a pair of tall slender dogs poised on their haunches like figures in myth.

A real blow to OGPU came from Bukharin in autumn 1924:

Even now I remember those pictures, like pictures in a storybook one loved as a child. Radiant meadows, mountains vaporous in the trembling distance; leaves ankle-deep on a gusty autumn road; bonfires and fog in the valleys; cellos, dark window-panes, snow.

Outside, it was cool and still, the sky a hazy shade of white peculiar to autumn mornings...

The first breath of autumn was in the air, a prodigal feeling, a feeling of wanting, taking, and keeping before it is too late.

The trees had stripped down to their black bones and had heaped leaves in drifts against hedges and walls. Children played amongst them, tossing armfuls into the air, screaming in and out like swimmers at the sea's edge.

Harvest Time When Daddy's garden is ready it is filled with words that make me laugh when I say them -- pole beans and tomatoes, okra and corn sweet peas and sugar snaps, lettuce and squash. Who could have imagined so much color that the ground disappears and we are left walking through an autumn's worth of crazy words that beneath the magic of my grandmother's hands become side dishes.

Autumns in Hunter were dedicated to a critical endeavor that enhanced our revelries year-round: the fermenting and bottling of apple cider.

O outono é a única estação civilizada. A primavera é um descontrole glandular da Natureza. O inverno é o preço que a gente paga para ter o outono, e por isso está perdoado. O verão é uma indignidade. [...] Clássicos ao pé do fogo, um vago cachorro e sherry seco contra o catarro. Um gentleman não deve suar, meu caro.

Oi niin mahtavaan riemunkirjavaan mekkoonsa sonnustautuneena kultainen syysrouva tanssi Pekingiin! Hän pyörähteli ympäriinsä, näytti kaikki pukunsa värit ja häikäisi ihmisten silmiä tuoksuvien sulojensa lukemattomilla mahdollisuuksilla, määrätietoisesti, hämmästyttävästi ja tyrmistyttävästi.

I looked at her, as vivid in my doorway as the moon in the autumn sky. Her eyes held mine, gray and steady. It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.

I looked at her, as vivid in my doorway as the moon in the autumn sky. Her eyes held mind, gray and steady. It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness. If I had every believed it, I no longer did.

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face. [ The Autumnal ]