Autumn quotes

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

- Albert Camus100

◆ 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?

- Mervyn Peake99

◆ Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

- Emilie Autumn99

◆ I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.

- Virginia Woolf99

◆ The autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavement in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding walk, letting the motion of the wind and the leaves carry her forward. [...] The trees overhead made a great sound of letting down their dry rain.

- Ray Bradbury99

◆ Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

- Samuel Butler99

◆ He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams.

- J.R.R. Tolkien99

◆ I loved autumn, the one season of the year that God seemed to have put there just for the beauty of it.

- Lee Maynard99

◆ There is something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.

- Joe L. Wheeler99

◆ Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

- Robert Browning99

◆ Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.

- Remy de Gourmont99

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

- Jim Bishop99

◆ 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.

- Hal Borland99

◆ Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter's deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world's oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter.

- Shauna Niequist99

◆ I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.

- Wendy Delsol99