Autumn Quotes

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad~?

And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?

He is outside of everything, and alien everywhere. He is an aesthetic solitary. His beautiful, light imagination is the wing that on the autumn evening just brushes the dusky window.

Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils.

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 tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!

Books are carefully folded forests/void of autumn/bound from the sun

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

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.

I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.

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.

Autumn is no time to lie alone

All through autumn we hear a double voice: one says everything is ripe; the other says everything is dying. The paradox is exquisite. We feel what the Japanese call "aware"—an almost untranslatable word meaning something like "beauty tinged with sadness.

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.

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.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.

Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.

A breath, whence no man knows, Swaying the grating weeds, it blows; It comes, it grieves, it goes. Once it rocked the summer rose.

The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.