Autumn Quotes - Page 15

• Autumn teaches us that fruition is also death; that ripeness is a form of decay. The willows, having stood for so long near water, begin to rust. Leaves are verbs that conjugate the seasons.

  Gretel Ehrlich

  Long, Water, Verbs

  Gretel Ehrlich (1986). “The Solace of Open Spaces”, Penguin Group USA

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• A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On terms Like these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.

  Wallace Stevens

  Juice, Tables, Pears

  Wallace Stevens (2011). “The Palm at the End of the Mind: Selected Poems and a Play”, p.155, Vintage

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• Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.

  Wallace Stevens

  Summer, Pain, Loneliness

  Wallace Stevens (2002). “Harmonium”, p.105, Icaria Editorial

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• The morning air of the pasture turned steadily cooler. Day by day, the bright golden leaves of the birches turned more spotted as the first winds of winter slipped between the withered branches and across the highlands toward the southeast. Stopping in the center of the pasture, I could hear the winds clearly. No turning back, they pronounced. The brief autumn was gone.

  Haruki Murakami

  Morning, Winter, Air

  "A Wild Sheep Chase". Book by Haruki Murakami, December 31, 1989.

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

  Emilie Autumn

  Past, Half, Should

  Song: 4 o'Clock

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• Abysmal vermin that I am, I couldn't of course tell her that it was her incredible mother that I wanted to see again… I knew only as I drove through the cold, night autumn air that somewhere Freud, Sophocles and Eugene O’Neill were laughing.

  Woody Allen

  Mother, Night, Air

  Woody Allen (2007). “The Insanity Defense: The Complete Prose”, Random House Incorporated

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• I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven't said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.

  Tove Jansson

  Beautiful, Summer, Twilight

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• When the days become longer and there is more sunshine, the grass becomes fresh and, consequently, we feel very happy. On the other hand, in autumn, one leaf falls down and another leaf falls down. The beautiful plants become as if dead and we do not feel very happy. Why? I think it is because deep down our human nature likes construction, and does not like destruction. Naturally, every action which is destructive is against human nature. Constructiveness is the human way. Therefore, I think that in terms of basic human feeling, violence is not good. Non-violence is the only way.

  Dalai Lama

  Beautiful, Buddhist, Fall

  "Dzogchen: Heart Essence of the Great Perfection" by Dalai Lama, Snow Lion Publications, 2004.

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• Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.

  Yoko Ono

  Summer, Time, Spring

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• Hinduism is a living organism liable to growth and decay subject to the laws of Nature. One and indivisible at the root, it has grown into a vast tree with innumerable branches. The changes in the season affect it. It has its autumn and its summer, its winter and its spring. It is, and is not, based on scriptures. It does not derive its authority from one book. Non violence has found the highest expression and application in Hinduism.

  Mahatma Gandhi

  Summer, Spring, Book

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• It was Indian summer, a bluebird sort of day as we call it in the north, warm and sunny, without a breath of wind; the water was sky-blue, the shores a bank of solid gold.

  Sigurd F. Olson

  Summer, Fall, Blue

  Sigurd F. Olson (1969). “Open horizons”, Alfred A. Knopf

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• That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.

  Ray Bradbury

  Country, Twilight, Rain

  Ray Bradbury (2013). “The October Country”, p.7, Harper Collins

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• It was autumn, the springtime of death. Rain spattered the rotting leaves, and a wild wind wailed. Death was singing in the shower. Death was happy to be alive. The fetus bailed out without a parachute. It landed in the sideline Astroturf, so upsetting the cheerleaders that for the remained of the afternoon their rahs were more like squeaks.

  Tom Robbins

  Rain, Wind, Upset

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• Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.

  Nora Ephron

  New York, Fall, School

  FaceBook post by Nora Ephron from Oct 25, 2012

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• Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.

  J. D. Salinger

  Heart, Garage

  j.d. salinger (1961). “franny and zooey”

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• Something told the wild geese
  It was time to go.
  Though the fields lay golden
  Something whispered, "snow."
  Leaves were green and stirring,
  Berries, luster-glossed,
  But beneath warm feathers
  Something cautioned, "frost."
  All the sagging orchards
  Steamed with amber spice
  But each wild breast stiffened
  At remembered ice.
  Something told the wild geese
  It was time to fly-
  Summer sun was on their wings,
  Winter in their cry.

  Rachel Field

  Summer, Winter, Ice

  Rachel Field (1934). “Branches Green”

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• October, here's to you. Here's to the heady aroma of the frost-kissed apples, the winey smell of ripened grapes, the wild-as-the-wind smell of hickory nuts and the nostalgic whiff of that first wood smoke.

  Ken Weber

  Wind, Nuts, Smell

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• I see, when I bend close, how each leaflet of a climbing rose is bordered with frost, the autumn counterpart of the dewdrops of summer dawns. The feathery leaves of yarrow are thick with silver rime and dry thistle heads rise like goblets plated with silver catching the sun.

  Edwin Way Teale

  Summer, Fall, Climbing

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• 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 Peake

  Fall, Wind, Tree

  Mervyn Peake (1995). “The Gormenghast Novels”, Overlook Books

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• I’m just trying to imagine you in flannel pink sock monkey pajamas. I’m sure you look stunning in pink. (Damien) Actually, with his skin tone he probably does look really good in it. I would definitely say he’s an autumn. (Kish) That’s summer, you dweeb. (Damien) I find it fascinating that you two women know that color palettes for clothes have a name. The fact you corrected him really scares me. (Sin)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Summer, Color, Names

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• There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood-
  Touch of manner, hint of mood;
  And my heart is like a rhyme,
  With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

  Bliss Carman

  Heart, Blood, Purple

  Bliss Carman (1931). “Bliss Carman's Poems”, McClelland & Stewart

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• Three points for the dead slowly prising open the lids of their coffins. They want to hunt the living. They can't stop. Their throats have turned to liquid and their fingers glint under the weak autumn sun.

  Jenny Downham

  Three, Coffins, Want

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• Some people fall head over heels. Other people begin to fall without even knowing it—love grows like a spring flower beneath last autumn’s leaves and catches them by surprise.

  Elizabeth Chandler

  Spring, Flower, Fall

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• Variations: II Green light, from the moon, Pours over the dark blue trees, Green light from the autumn moon Pours on the grass ... Green light falls on the goblin fountain Where hesitant lovers meet and pass. They laugh in the moonlight, touching hands, They move like leaves on the wind ... I remember an autumn night like this, And not so long ago, When other lovers were blown like leaves, Before the coming of snow.

  Conrad Aiken

  Moving, Fall, Dark

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• Peter curled his hands into fists at his sides. 'Kiss me,' he said. She leaned towards him slowly, until her face was too close to be in focus. Her hair fell over Peter's shoulder like a curtain and her eyes closed. She smelled like autumn-like apple cider and slanting sun and the snap of the coming cold. He felt his heart scrambling, caught inside the confines of his own body. Josie's lips landed just on the edge of his, almost his cheek and not quite his mouth. 'I'm glad I wasn't stuck in here alone,' she said shyly, and he tasted the words, sweet as mint on her breath.

  Jodi Picoult

  Sweet, Heart, Eye

  Jodi Picoult (2012). “The Jodi Picoult Collection #3: Vanishing Acts, The Tenth Circle, and Nineteen Minutes”, p.1147, Simon and Schuster

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