Autumn Quotes and Sayings
The foliage has been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Autumn arrives in the early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings. Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it . . . bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
But I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees.
Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile.
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together.
For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house.
So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.
Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile.
Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile.
Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees.
October is a symphony of permanence and change.
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained 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.
The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such
grace as I have seen in one autumnal face
Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.
Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.
Autumn wins you best by this, its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
Action must be taken at the first signs of disruption or decay, otherwise disaster will follow as ice-bound water follows brief autumn frosts.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath’d with nodding corn.
How strange and awful is the synthesis of life and death in the gusty winds and falling leaves of an autumnal day!
Autumn arrives in the early morning, but
spring at the close of a winter day.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Deep inside, we’re still the boys of autumn, that magic time of the year that once swept us onto America’s fields.
Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.
Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter’s pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.
I love the fall. I love it because of the smells that you speak of; and also because things are dying.
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together.
For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
Autumn’s the mellow time.
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