Autumn Quotes - Page 14

• This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance. A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky, Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain.

  Gautama Buddha

  Buddhist, Clouds, Sky

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• That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts.

  Ray Bradbury

  Country, Thinking, People

  Ray Bradbury (2014). “The October Country”, p.6, HarperCollins UK

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• The autumn hill gathers the remaining light, A flying bird chases after its companion. The green color is bright And brings me into the moment, like a sunset mist that has no fixed place.

  Wang Wei

  Summer, Sunset, Light

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• Autumn is really the best of the seasons

  C. S. Lewis

  Seasons

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• The first breath of autumn was in the air, a prodigal feeling, a feeling of wanting, taking, and keeping before it is too late.

  J. L. Carr

  Air, Feelings, Too Late

  J.L. Carr (2012). “A Month in the Country”, p.121, New York Review of Books

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• Back in the autumn I had awakened to a growing darkness and cacophony, as if something in the depths were crying out. A whole chorus of voices. Orphaned voices. They seemed to speak for all the unlived parts of me, and they came with a force and dazzle that I couldn't contain. They seemed to explode the boundaries of my existence. I know now that they were the clamor of a new self struggling to be born.

  Sue Monk Kidd

  Struggle, Self, Voice

  Sue Monk Kidd (2016). “When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life's Sacred Questions”, p.8, Harper Collins

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• The fallen autumn leaves were slick beneath Bod's feet, and the mists blurred the edges of the world. Nothing was as clean-cut as he had thought it, a few minutes before.

  Neil Gaiman

  Cutting, Feet, World

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• 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 Bradbury

  Girl, Rain, Moving

  FaceBook post by Ray Bradbury from Jan 27, 2016

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• At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  Sea, Smell, Touching

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• Dr. Everest, got up and gave us a little pep talk. Mostly it boiled down to the fact that it was autumn, and everyone was back, and while that was a great thing, people better not get cocky or misbehave or he'd personally kill us all. He didn't actually say those words, but that was the subtext.

  Maureen Johnson

  Cocky, People, Drs

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• There are such a lot of things that have no place in summer and autumn and spring. Everything that’s a little shy and a little rum. Some kinds of night animals and people that don’t fit in with others and that nobody really believes in. They keep out of the way all the year. And then when everything’s quiet and white and the nights are long and most people are asleep—then they appear.

  Tove Jansson

  Summer, Spring, Believe

  Tove Jansson (2014). “Moominland Midwinter”, p.40, Macmillan

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• What was it Catelyn Stark had called them, that night at Bitterbridge? The knights of summer. And now it was autumn and they were falling like leaves.

  George R. R. Martin

  Summer, Fall, Night

  George R. R. Martin (2005). “A Feast for Crows: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Four”, p.209, Bantam

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• The circus looks abandoned and empty. But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold.

  Erin Morgenstern

  Thinking, Smell, Looks

  "The Night Circus". Book by Erin Morgenstern, September 13, 2011.

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• Beware the autumn people

  Ray Bradbury

  People

  Ray Bradbury (2017). “Something Wicked This Way Comes: A Novel”, p.176, Simon and Schuster

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• You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

  Pablo Neruda

  Moon, Fire, Light

  Pablo Neruda (2009). “The Captain's Verses/Los Versos Del Capitan”, p.77, New Directions Publishing

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• Autumn truly is what summer pretends to be: the best of all seasons. It is as glorious as summer is tedious; as subtle as summer is obvious; as refreshing as summer is wearying. Autumn seems like paradise.

  Gregg Easterbrook

  Summer, Paradise, Being The Best

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• There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Beautiful, Summer, Sweet

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.70, Delphi Classics

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• I wouldn't mind the early autumn if you came home today I'd tell you how much I miss you and know I'd be okay. It's funny how we never know exactly how our life will go It's funny how a dream can fade with the break of day. Time can't erase the memory and time can't bring you home Last Summer was a part of me and now a part is gone. —Margaret

  Jacqueline Woodson

  Summer, Dream, Memories

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• She looked like autumn, when leaves turned and fruit ripened.

  Sarah Addison Allen

  Fruit, Aging

  Sarah Addison Allen (2007). “Garden Spells”, p.156, Bantam

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• I was twenty-one at the time, about to turn twenty-two. No prospect of graduating soon, and yet no reason to quit school. Caught in the most curiously depressing circumstances. For months I'd been stuck, unable to take one step in any new direction. The world kept moving on; I alone was at a standstill. In the autumn, everything took on a desolate cast, the colors swiftly fading before my eyes. The sunlight, the smell of the grass, the faintest patter of rain, everything got on my nerves.

  Haruki Murakami

  Depressing, Moving, Rain

  "A Wild Sheep Chase". Book by Haruki Murakami, 1982.

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• Now the autumn shudders
  In the rose's root.
  Far and wide the ladders
  Lean among the fruit.
  Now the autumn clambers
  Up the trellised frame,
  And the rose remembers
  The dust from which it came.
  Brighter than the blossom
  On the rose's bough
  Sits the wizened orange,
  Bitter berry now;
  Beauty never slumbers;
  All is in her name;
  But the rose remembers
  The dust from which it came.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Dust, Names, Roots

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2003). “Edna St. Vincent Millay: Selected Poems”, p.68, Library of America

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• When autumn shadows throw their patterns across the land, they are not the images of fragile, dying leaves, not the bared arms of lofty elms, not shadows of a fading summer; but swinging shapes as of books upon a strap, of round and square boxes held under an arm, of hurrying little people heading towards the nearest school.

  Djuna Barnes

  Summer, Book, School

  Djuna Barnes, Alyce Barry (1989). “New York”, Sun & Moon Pr

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• Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.

  Lauren DeStefano

  Love, Fall, Two

  Lauren DeStefano (2011). “Wither”, p.147, Simon and Schuster

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• It is a delicious thing to write, to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating. Today, for instance, as man and woman, both lover and mistress, I rode in a forest on an autumn afternoon under the yellow leaves, and I was also the horses, the leaves, the wind, the words my people uttered, even the red sun that made them almost close their love-drowned eyes.

  Gustave Flaubert

  Horse, Moving, Eye

  "Scenes from a provincial life" by AS Byatt, www.theguardian.com. July 27, 2002.

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• my mother was taught the ch'an concept of happiness, which was to find satisfaction in small things. i was taught to appreciate the fresh air in the morning, the colour of leaves turning red in autumn and the water's smoothness when i soaked my hands in the basin.

  Anchee Min

  Mother, Morning, Air

  Anchee Min (2005). “Empress Orchid”, p.4, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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