Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Autumn Days. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Autumn Days Quotes And Sayings by 88 Authors including Andrea Gibson,Laird Barron,Doug Larson,John Greenleaf Whittier,Richelle E. Goodrich for you to enjoy and share.
Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and they're falling like
they're falling in love with the ground.
Autumn, like Alzheimer's, turns everything strange and unfamiliar, and when you look for the shape of the real hidden within, you find only a promise of the winter to come.
Autumn is a season followed immediately by looking forward to spring.
The tints of autumn ... a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
Nature awakens each day in brilliant autumn colors, making me wish the pale winter would bid adieu.
My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
In Heaven, it is always Autumn".
Truly, Autumn is my season," the scarlet beast chorted. "Spring and Summer and Winter all begin with such late letters! But Autumn and Fall, I have loved best, because they are best to love.
October arrives in a swirl of fragrant blue leaf smoke, the sweetness of slightly frosted MacIntosh apples, and little hard acorns falling. We are in the midst of cool crisp days, purple mists, and Nature recklessly tossing her whole palette of dazzling tones through fields and woodlands.
So the days, the last days, blow about in a memory, hazy autumnal, all alike as leaves: until a day unlike any other I've lived
August was nearly over - the month of apples and falling stars, the last care-free month for the school children. The days were not hot, but sunny and limpidly clear - the first sign of advancing autumn.
Damn, I was lonely that autumn. I wished for a girl I could hang out with. I never
really did anything to meet girls, too shy, too fucked up. Autumn makes
me think of women.
Autumn always fascinated me - so much beauty in dying. Leaves holding on until the bitter end, finally going down in a blaze of glory, almost as if they were trying to convince us to keep them alive.
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.
Autumn felt like the whole world was browned and roasted until it was so tender it was about to fall away from the bone.
What is autumn? Here is a very simple definition: Autumn is a Queen, Queen of Beauty!
Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
On this road
where nobody else travels
autumn nightfall.
Why is it that so many of us persist in thinking that autumn is a sad season? Nature has merely fallen asleep, and her dreams must be beautiful if we are to judge by her countenance.
Fall arrived with its honey light and cool evenings, and the maple leaves brightened to match the reds and yellow of ripe apples. It was time to put away the bounty of the warm months for fortitude during the cold ones, as humans had done for centuries.
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
Autumn is a reminder that while the leaves die and fall, there will always be Spring, a chance to replenish and be reborn again. We all have the opportunity to replenish ourselves, to be reborn.
Spring is the season of hope, and autumn is that of memory.
The once green leaves have faded to blood-red and autumn herself has wrapped her crisp cloak around your shoulders
Autumn
The cheerful sundial;
it falls in the shadow
of thy leaves.
there
where your branches
brace themselves
against the gate of heaven
It was the final, explosive demonstration of summer, the line in the sand, a desperate attempt to hold fall forever at bay. But autumn nibbled the blue sky with its teeth, tore off chunks of the sun, smudged out that heavy veil of meat-smelling smoke.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
There is a time in late September when the leaves are still green, and the days are still warm, but somehow you know that it is all about to end, as if summer was holding its breath, and when it let it out again, it would be autumn.
Summer rushes in on the heels of spring, eager to take her turn; and then she dances with wild abandon. But the time soon comes when she gratefully falls, exhausted and sated, into the auburn arms of autumn.
Steam rising underneath a canopy of whispering, changing aspens; starlight in the clear, dark night, and wondrous beauty in every direction. If only all could feel this way, to be so captured and enthralled with autumn.
When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
The August noon in us works to stave off the November chills. We survive by what little Fourth of July wits we've stashed away. But there are times when we're all autumn people.
Leaves leave this world in beautiful fall colors and songs.
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.
Some people thought spring was the time of renewal, but Sadie had always equated that feeling with autumn. It felt like a shedding of mistakes - falling leaves, crisp breezes. As if you could cast off an old skin to work on a new one.
But I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees
The air has that bracing autumnal bite so that all you want to do is bob for apples or hang a witch or something.
The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.
Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Life is a dream and autumn is a dream within dream!
the darkness of the summer slowly unfurling, never to be completely gone, but fading to become no more than a part of the life that surrounds it.
The damps of autumn sink into the leaves and prepare them for the necessity of their fall; and thus insensibly are we, as years close around us, detached from our tenacity of life by the gentle pressure of recorded sorrow.
Autumn is the harvest of greedy death.
Autumn breathes in shades of white; cloth of mist dressed fields comfortable.
Autumn in my garden is when trees give their tickertape welcome to winter.
Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
Wind as old as Rome outside my window, inky fleece clouds against charcoal crushed velvet skies, fall feels soulful, like a LaBelle octave.
Great artists come and go; they are born and they die; but there is one exception who has been living for thousands of years and still continues creating new works, new beauties every year: The Autumn!
November and the sun grows sparse in the sky.
Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.
My Autumn eternal O my spiritual season
Autumn
The season between summer and winter,
comprising in the Northern Hemisphere
usually the months of September,
October and November.
A period of maturity.
The strange days of summer. There is no here, no there, the days are incredibly still, the light is brightly muted--it's hard to know if that's the passing of the season or poor air quality.
Pale amber sunlight falls across The reddening October trees ... Are we not better and at home In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? A little while and night shall come, A little while, then, let us dream ...
It's a beautiful fall day. Gentle wind teases stubborn autumn leaves. Some defy the gentle wind and sway. A taunting dance. Come with me and look at the magnificence of the last dance.
It might be high summer all about but inside me everything is fall. The lonesomeness of a sad, slow closing of days, knowing frost is nigh and wind needling through the cabin chinks is just around the bend. That's me, right now.
He says a word,
and I say a word - autumn
is deepening.
Colourful autumn is a tristful travel to the pale Planet of Melancholy!
The world know it not; but you, Autumn, I confess it: your wind at night-fall stabs deep into my heart
Inside of us, there's a continual autumn. Our leaves fall and are blown out over the water.
The first truly autumnal day of the new season. Soft, pretty scarves looped necks, skinny jeans encased skinny and not-so-skinny thighs, spike-heeled boots tapped across the playground.
Below her, fall was just starting to work its magic on the foliage, creating a blaze of rust and amber stretching into the foothills and up the mountains. It was her favorite time of the year and normally she loved this view. Today, it only reminded her of how much she had to lose.
Every season has its own art and the art of autumn is to bewitch the people!
I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. A dangerous time; of violent rages and deceptive calm, of fireworks in the pockets and conkers in the fist.
Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
Autumn has a hungry heart - September is the beginning of death.
There is so much beauty in autumn and so much wisdom; so much separation and so much sorrow!
Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.
Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.
Night, which in Autumn seems to fall from the sky so suddenly, chilled us...
In summer, when the days are long, Perhaps you'll understand the song: In Autumn, when the leaves are brown, Take pen and ink, and write it down.
This autumn-
why am I growing old?
bird disappearing among clouds.
Autumn arrives like a warrior with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.
It was November
the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.
There is only one autumn in a year, but in people's life, there are many autumns in one year!
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
At times we wish that these clouds never came our way for all they bring with them is misery but on others they bring relief.
It is their absence that is difficult to get by, to fill, for autumn is near.
But then seasons do change.
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar ...
Hard, hard it is, this anxious autumn
To lift the heavy mind from its dark forebodings;
Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows, as the winds of change begin to blow, signaling the later days of autumn.
Just like every other year, there's a kind of death in the air as the summer is squelched by autumn. It is a lonely feeling.
In the rain-swept afternoon
my heart discovers
the tragedy of autumn
raining from the trees.
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.
I met Anne in the autumn ... Autumn, that wild season when rural men rack orchard trees with sticks and weep with the desire to kiss faraway Demeter's supple breasts - to set lips to her travel-swollen eyes. They seek goddesses, but I desired only Anne.
When the beauty and warmth of summer is here,
then dancing leaves with colors are not too far.
So when I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.
The American spring is by no means so agreeable as the American autumn; both move with faltering step, and slow; but this lingering pace, which is delicious in autumn, is most tormenting in the spring.
My sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be.
The first breath of autumn was in the air, a prodigal feeling, a feeling of wanting, taking, and keeping before it is too late.
When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of autumn.
I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.
That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts.
It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.
[Autumn]
Spring and Autumn
Every season hath its pleasures;
Spring may boast her flowery prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
The warmth returned, but it was the mellow, genial warmth of autumn that rejoiced at the thought of evening thunderstorms and the cool of morning, which had been sorely lacking during the searing summer months, leaving the land thirsty. The
Summer treads on heels of spring.