Best 748 quotes in «autumn quotes» category

An autumn forest is such a place that once entered you never look for the exit!

And I rose In a rainy autumn And walked abroad in shower of all my days High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke.

And it's impossible to say and even harder to feel.

And sometimes, and only in spring, a dove from the river's soft vale of lilies will fly as close to you as trust, and a calm in the great reds of autumn will, as often as you need, lie down beside you, raising a brow you've known above the eyes of the only woman you will ever have a need to dream or touch.

And that afternoon, as the sun slanted low through the changing autumn leaves, I remembered to savor the moment, soak in the beauty, breathe deeply and feel the immensity of God.

And then there is that day when all around, all around you hear the dropping of the apples, one by one, from the trees. At first it is one here and one there, and then it is three and then it is four and then nine and twenty, until the apples plummet like rain, fall like horse hoofs in the soft, darkening grass, and you are the last apple on the tree; and you wait for the wind to work you slowly free from your hold upon the sky, and drop you down and down. Long before you hit the grass you will have forgotten there ever was a tree, or other apples, or a summer, or green grass below, You will fall in darkness...

And there, next to me, as the east wind blows in early fall, a season open to great migrations, are those lives, threading the air and waters of the sea, that come out of an incomparable darkness, which is also my own.

And you say Paris is gay, but it has its down times. You say go in the spring and not the summer, because watching the autumn creep through the Rive Gauche preparing for winter is hard.

Anna drove with the window rolled down, breathing in the essence of autumn: an exhalation of a forest readying itself for sleep, a smell so redolent with nostalgia a pleasant ache warmed her bones and she was nagged with the sense of a loss she could not remember.

As the trees turned red, then white, then naked as pitchforks, Margot and Xiao Chen immersed themselves in several forests' worth of pages, and I watched, tortured, as brick after brick of a new development was laid on the wasteland of Midtown West like slabs of gold bullion.

As he walked, the sad faded leaves were driven pitilessly around him by the wind, and under the mingling influences of autumn and evening, a craving for the quietude of the grave … overtook him with unwanted intensity.

As the season changes, we learn to adapt.

As if you gave your heart to autumn, for What it destroys never blossoms again

Autumn brings the falling of leaves and cool days.

At the Moor Wanderer in the black wind; quietly the dry reeds whisper In the stillness of the moor. In the gray sky A flock of wild birds follows; Slanting over gloomy waters. Turmoil. In decayed hut The spirit of putrescence flutters with black wings. Crippled birches in the autumn wind. Evening in deserted tavern. The way home is scented all around By the soft gloom of grazing herds; Apparition of the night; toads plunge from brown waters.

AUTUMN AIR The autumn air is clear, The autumn moon is bright. Fallen leaves gather and scatter, The jackdaw perches and starts anew. We think of each other- when will we meet? This hour, this night, my feelings are hard.

Autumn casts a spell and dying never was so beautiful.

Autumn has come and reason has gone. Yesterday, I sold the sun for you and tonight the stars are running away from me. When you first spoke, you slowly annihilated my world. Your mouth was like the sea — in your kisses I sank. Your hands were like the ocean — in your caresses I sank. I ask for no salvation on this moonless night. I only ask for more Autumn.

Autumn in the country advances in a predictable path, taking its place among the unyielding rhythms of the passing seasons. It follows the summer harvest, ushering in cooler nights, and shorter days, enveloping all of Lanark County in a spectacular riot of colour. Brilliant hues of yellow, orange and red exclaim, in no uncertain terms, that these are the trees where maple syrup legends are born.

Autumn is a classical music; when it begins, the gravity disappears!

Autumn is the greatest reminder: It reminds us how dreamlike beauties our earth has and it reminds us how all these beautiful dreams can easily vanish!

Autumn is the time of tender encounters.

Autumn night— Silvery moonlight, wind in pine trees.

Autumn was her happiest season. There was an expectancy about its sounds and shapes: the distant thunk pomp of leather and young bodies on the practice field near her house made her think of bands and cold Coca-Colas, parched peanuts and the sight of people's breath in the air. There was even something to look forward to when school started - renewals of old feuds and friendships, weeks of learning again what one half forgot in the long summer. Fall was hot-supper time with everything to eat one missed in the morning when too sleepy to enjoy it.

Autumn came early and lingered with its shroud of rainstorms and its wreath of dead leaves.

Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak.

Autumn is autumn.

Autumn is grey rainy afternoons, and fond memories of raking up leaves into tidy neat piles, just to jump in a spread them around again.

Autumn is here and I am in love. My heart has taken residence in my mind. I pick the crisp ochre leaves and put them in my pocket. I am in love.

Autumn is the time of balance and of sacrifice, a time when the light is defeated by darkness, a time when night takes over and brings the coming winter. The ancient wisdom says that those who long for light must face their inner darkness and overcome it.

A Corymbus for Autumn How are the veins of thee, Autumn, laden? Umbered juices, And pulpèd oozes Pappy out of the cherry-bruises, Froth the veins of thee, wild, wild maiden. With hair that musters In globèd clusters, In tumbling clusters, like swarthy grapes, Round thy brow and thine ears o'ershaden; With the burning darkness of eyes like pansies, Like velvet pansies Where through escapes The splendid might of thy conflagrate fancies; With robe gold-tawny not hiding the shapes Of the feet whereunto it falleth down, Thy naked feet unsandalled; With robe gold-tawny that does not veil Feet where the red Is meshed in the brown, Like a rubied sun in a Venice-sail.

Autumn The autumn comes, a maiden fair In slenderness and grace, With nodding rice-stems in her hair And lilies in her face. In flowers of grasses she is clad; And as she moves along, Birds greet her with their cooing glad Like bracelets' tinkling song.

Autumn. A season. A girl. A memory. Autumn. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her smile was infectious. Her laugh was a cure. Autumn. She broke me.

Autumn colors remind us we are all one dancing in the wind.

Autumn is a season of desperate hopes. The leaves are souls begging to turn life on pause. Begging to stop, begging to take a break, hiding under smiles and childish words.

Autumn is Nature's last party of the year. And dressing for the occasion, forests don their brightest attire, while the creatures follow suit with plush coats of fur. As the birds savor their final flights in the waning embers of light, Nature's children scamper about in search of manna for their winter pantries, pausing long enough to frolic in the heaps of newly fallen leaves." ["Autumn Suppers," Orange Coast Magazine, Oct. 1983]

Autumn is the time when love matures in gentleness.

Autumn stomps around outside the house like an annoying little sister, tapping on all the shutters, kicking up the piles of leaves you rake, pretending to howl like a wolf. But I'm glad she's here, so we can cuss at Summer together, pretending we don't even remember her name.

Autumn! The greatest show of all the times!

Autumn is an interesting season, even in the metaphor of life, is a time of decline, of loss, but also intense and haunting beauty. Some places, like some people, never are, or have been, as beautiful in their fall.

Autumn is a time of colorful harmony.

Autumn is my spring!

Autumn is the time of picturesque tranquility.

Autumn leaf waits for autumn wind to reach the unreachable places; wise mind waits for silence for the same reason!

Autumns reward western Kansas for the evils that the remaining seasons impose: winter's rough Colorado winds and hip-high, sheep-slaughtering snows; the slushes and the strange land fogs of spring; and summer, when even crows seek the puny shade, and the tawny infinitude of wheatstalks bristle, blaze. At last, after September, another weather arrives, an Indian summer that occasionally endures until Christmas.

Autumn! The greatest show of all times!

Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile." [Indian Summer]

A world where the sky is cloaked in perpetual overcast, the scent of woodsmoke is always in the air, and the trees that burn there burn forever.

Autumn Days Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow. Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn days.

Bay remembered the Waverley house full of pumpkin pie scents in the fall. There had been mountains of maple cakes with violets hidden inside, lakes of butternut soups with chrysanthemum petals floating on top.