They travel with a constant companion, autumn.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.
Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.
When the bold branches bid farewell to rainbow leaves - welcome wool sweaters.
Autumn's the mellow time.
So I like best of all autumn because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colors richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content.
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one Autumnal face.
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!
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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.
Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.
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.
E. E. Cummins
No man can taste the fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of spring.
Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn
A lonely man is a lonesome thing, a stone, a bone, a stick, a receptacle for Gilbey's gin, a stooped figure sitting at the edge of a hotel bed, heaving copious sighs like the autumn wind
Wild oats make a bad autumn crop
Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
When Autumn flings her banners wide upon October air, all nature seems to thank its God for making life so fair.
Margaret E. Sangster