Quotes on Autumn Season

There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.

Nature is, above all, profligate. Don't believe them when they tell you how economical and thrifty nature is, whose leaves return to the soil. Wouldn't it be cheaper to leave them on the tree in the first place? This deciduous business alone is a radical scheme, the brainchild of a deranged manic-depressive with limitless capital. Extravagance! Nature will try anything once.

The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.

The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.

I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.

Sing a song of seasons; something bright in all, flowers in the summer, fires in the fall.

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

Our judgment ripens; our imagination decays. We cannot at once enjoy the flowers of the Spring of life and the fruits of its Autumn.

The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;- Old age, begin sighing!

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

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.

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

The autumn always gets me badly, as it breaks into colours. I want to go south, where there is no autumn, where the cold doesn't crouch over one like a snow-leopard waiting to pounce.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.

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.

Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.