Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Here and there on the branch of an oak a congress of leaves still clung, rigid as flakes of bronze.
Sad; so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late Autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart.
In spring they lie flat at the first warmth, they ruin my summer and in autumn they smell of women.
Autumn is really the best of the seasons; and I'm not sure that old age isn't the best part of life.
Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know.
All my films have always been released in the autumn, maybe because they're more melancholy to people.
Always find a time to sit on a humid autumn bench to feed the poor birds or to think the dying leaves!
But I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees
I loved autumn, the one season of the year that God seemed to have put there just for the beauty of it.
Shopping for clothes is time consuming, it's tiring, and it can feel like a waste of an autumn afternoon.
The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.
And getting married this autumn was certainly an additional incentive to spend rather more time in England.
I didn't get to experience proper autumn until I was eighteen and heading off to college on the East Coast!
If you look around, complacency is the great disease of your autumn years, and I work hard to prevent that.
Autumn can be glorious but menacing too - the long shadows, brisk winds, scurrying leaves, impending frost.
Why I so much prefer autumn to spring is that in the autumn one looks at heaven--in the spring at the earth.
My visit this autumn is an opportunity to continue that rich tradition of visits between Canterbury and Rome.
The leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.
Since sorrow follows joy As autumn does the spring Man must transcend the joys Of earth, which sorrows bring.
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.
As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colors enough to paint the beautiful things I see.
Looking about I see no cherry blossoms And no crimson leaves A straw-thatched hut by a bay In the autumn dusk.
The dinner-hour is the summer of the day: full of sunshine, I grant; but not like the mellow autumn of supper.
Autumn is leaving its mellowness behind for its spiky, rotted stage. Don't remember summer even saying goodbye.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
Deep inside, we're still the boys of autumn, that magic time of the year that once swept us onto America's fields.
In the season of white wild roses We two went hand in hand: But now in the ruddy autumn Together already we stand.
There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.
The harvested fields bathed in the autumn mist speak of God and his goodness far more vividly than any human lips.
Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
Autumn. Pretty leaves, pumpkin pie and sweaters. Perfect weather for reading. Winter is great but I hate shoveling.
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
Designers want me to dress like Spring, in billowing things. I don't feel like Spring. I feel like a warm red Autumn.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
I enjoyed the whole process of learning and was always happy when autumn came and school or college started up again.
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
The best kiss in nature is not between Romeo and Juliet, but it is between a dying autumn leaf and a shiny water drop!
The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;- Old age, begin sighing!
I love the start of autumn when the trees in my garden change the colour of their leaves in one last dazzling display.
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.
Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows, as the winds of change begin to blow, signaling the later days of autumn.
Behold the grapes and all the fruits that Autumn gives today, As robed in red and gold, she rules, the Empress of Decay!
Winter always turns into Spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone heard or seen of winter turning back to autumn.
Through the dripping weeks that follow One another slow, and soak Summer's extinguished fire and autumn's drifting smoke.
Women's words are as light as the doomed leaves whirling in autumn, Easily swept by the wind, easily drowned by the wave.
Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.
Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.
Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!
O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, when the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.