fall

Link	Quote	Tags	Author
a8bdea3	Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.	seasons color art fall autumn	J.K. Rowling
1ec3cb1	But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.	seasons september fall summer	Stephen King
3a854c6	Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.	encourage nature life love inspirational trees fall autumn	Chad Sugg
d3d498a	Her in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.	seasons poets nature fall walking pleasure	Jane Austen
3b647e7	These fragments I have shored against my ruins	past fall aging nostalgia	T.S. Eliot
db20dec	"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. 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." [ , Oct. 1, 1841]" --	seasons nature fall weather	George Eliot
5e2eefa	[T]hat old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.	back-to-school new-beginnings september fall summer	Wallace Stegner
78e26ef	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?	metaphor simile rain copy mimic shakespearean poetic fall wind cry crying despair wit howl	Mervyn Peake
97f5d77	With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.	seasons spring fall ernest-hemingway	Ernest Hemingway
35ae358	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.	imagery fall	Ray Bradbury
a83fec3	That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.	winter death love priceless fall	William Shakespeare
208440d	LONDON. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln's Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snow-flakes -- gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another's umbrellas in a general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if the day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest. Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds. Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the sun may, from the spongey fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and ploughboy. Most of the shops lighted two hours before their time -- as the gas seems to know, for it has a haggard and unwilling look. The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy streets are muddiest near that leaden-headed old obstruction, appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old corporation, Temple Bar. And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln's Inn Hall, at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery.	bleak-house dickens classic-literature fog courts november justice-system fall london	Charles Dickens
a0f4116	After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth...The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her...In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible.	october fall	Elizabeth George Speare
69bd7bc	It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.	seasons fall england weather	P.D. James
ba66e98	Even in dreams, you could not fall forever.	dreams fall	George R.R. Martin
6c09794	The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.	seasons winter poets poetry writing apple april auden byron de-la-mare insomnia longfellow may morris nocturnal season september shelley spender tennyson pope apples coffee spring wordsworth milton fall hart-crane autumn tea keats night writers burns schiller	Helen Bevington
b03986b	And the worst thing was, there were no mirrors out there in the wild, so the princess was left wondering whether she in fact was still beautiful... or if the fall had changed the story completely.	fall princess	Scott Westerfeld
2b51033	Give me a land of boughs in lea	inspirational fall autumn	A.E. Housman
d1fa650	"Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard." [ ]"	seasons fall fruit	Walt Whitman
c8ac0b8	A pity to survive night flights over St. Georges Channel only to crack my skull falling from a ladder.	ladder fall pity	Eoin Colfer
5e5f98d	There was a filmy veil of soft dull mist obscuring, but not hiding, all objects, giving them a lilac hue, for the sun had not yet fully set; a robin was singing ... The leaves were more gorgeous than ever; the first touch of frost would lay them all low to the ground. Already one or two kept constantly floating down, amber and golden in the low slanting sun-rays.	seasons winter time beauty death garden gardens north-and-south outside fall dusk	Elizabeth Gaskell
3779a81	I ate breakfast in the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to the station through the most glorious October colouring. The sun came up on the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orange and the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the air was keen and clear and full of promise. I something was going to happen.	jerusha-abbott fall	Jean Webster
feeb7dd	November is usually such a disagreeable month...as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully...just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We've had lovely days and delicious twilights.	november fall	L.M. Montgomery
81b5343	Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.	bats dialogue-over-a-ouija-board ouija foliage leaves november bat fall wind	Sylvia Plath
be7630b	The house was very quiet, and the fog--we are in November now--pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.	e-m-forster howards-end autumnal november fall autumn description quiet	E.M. Forster
1e1955e	It's fall coming, I thought, I can smell that sour-molasses smell of silage, clanging the air like a bell - smell like somebody's been burning oak leaves, left them to smolder overnight because they're too green.	fall scents	Ken Kesey
76a639f	...the air has that bracing autumnal bite so that all you want to do is bob for apples or hang a witch or something.	new-england fall	Sarah Vowell
5854480	I was only twelve. But I knew how much I loved her. It was that love that comes before all significance of body and morals. It was that love that was no more bad than wind and sea and sand lying side by side forever. It was made of all the warm long days together at the beach, and the humming quiet days of droning education at the school. All the long Autumn days of the years past when I carried her books home from school.	education love beach october forever fall child morals school	Ray Bradbury
dc9465c	"I love autumn", Emily said to me. "It wins you over with its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay."	two-by-two nicholas-sparks decay fall autumn	Nicholas Sparks
8f064a3	We grow in part by confessing our faults and weaknesses to each other (James 5:16; Eccl. 4:10). If we are always being strong and without needs, we are not growing, and we are setting ourselves up for a very dangerous fall.	strength emotional-needs needs growth fall	Henry Cloud
5a3a7d8	I love the autumn--that melancholy season that suits memories so well. When the trees have lost their leaves, when the sky at sunset still preserves the russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, it is sweet to watch the final fading of the fires that until recently burnt within you.	fall	Gustave Flaubert
f00042c	All we can hope for is that he will fall into the ocean with a bar of soap in his pocket.	kids humor washing pocket soap fall ocean	Eoin Colfer
d136289	Things fall apart. But things don't just fall apart. People break them.	inspirational things break fall	Robin Wasserman
57ee32e	The mountain trees that grew between the pines were a brilliant blaze of fall colors, like fire against the emerald green of the pines, firs and pruces. And it was, as I'd told myself long ago, the year's last passionate love affair before it grew old and died from the frosty bite of winter.	seasons winter change love passionate trees fall colors fire running	V.C. Andrews
b107bef	Yet the higher a man climbs the further he has to fall.	fall	George R.R. Martin
ead9b0f	People don't look like people anymore after they've fallen from over a hundred floors above the ground.	people twin-towers september-11th ground world-trade-center disaster gore september-11-attacks fall	Rebecca McNutt
6759640	I've been alive a long time, long enough to know that the more baggage you carry in life, the more unstable you'll be, until eventually you get sick of carrying it, and then you just fall down.	mourning grief life baggage unstable mourn fall mental-illness	Rebecca McNutt
e07c2f9	"When they turned off, it was still early in the pink and green fields. The fumes of morning, sweet and bitter, sprang up where they walked. The insects ticked softly, their strength in reserve; butterflies chopped the air, going to the east, and the birds flew carelessly and sang by fits. They went down again and soon the smell of the river spread over the woods, cool and secret. Every step they took among the great walls of vines and among the passion-flowers started up a little life, a little flight. 'We're walking along in the changing-time,' said Doc. 'Any day now the change will come. It's going to turn from hot to cold, and we can kill the hog that's ripe and have fresh meat to eat. Come one of these nights and we can wander down here and tree a nice possum. Old Jack Frost will be pinching things up. Old Mr. Winter will be standing in the door. Hickory tree there will be yellow. Sweet-gum red, hickory yellow, dogwood red, sycamore yellow.' He went along rapping the tree trunks with his knuckle. 'Magnolia and live-oak never die. Remember that. Persimmons will all get fit to eat, and the nuts will be dropping like rain all through the woods here. And run, little quail, run, for we'll be after you too.' They went on and suddenly the woods opened upon light, and they had reached the river. Everyone stopped, but Doc talked on ahead as though nothing had happened. 'Only today,' he said, 'today, in October sun, it's all gold--sky and tree and water. Everything just before it changes looks to be made of gold.' ("The Wide Net")"	october fall	Eudora Welty
752c450	And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion. And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?	mankind humanity fear truth ambitious-minds ambitious-people driven idlesness self-motivated haunted human-condition grace self-loathing self-hate fall fire pride	Joseph Conrad
ca44e27	I pass a construction site, abandoned for the night, and a few blocks later, the playground of the elementary school my son attended, the metal sliding board gleaming under a streetlamp and the swings stirring in the breeze. There's an energy to these autumn nights that touches something primal inside of me. Something from long ago. From my childhood in western Iowa. I think of high school football games and the stadium lights blazing down on the players. I smell ripening apples, and the sour reek of beer from keg parties in the cornfields. I feel the wind in my face as I ride in the bed of an old pickup truck down a country road at night, dust swirling in the taillights and the entire span of my life yawning out ahead o me. It's the beautiful thing about youth. There's a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential. I love my life, but I haven't felt that lightness of being in ages. Autumn nights like this are as close as I get.	youth smell walks fall night memory	Blake Crouch
efba1fc	Eve was tempted not by wealth or love but by knowledge.	temptation fall knowledge	Philip Pullman
52a8a6d	Pride goes before a fall.	fire-and-blood fall pride failure	George R.R. Martin
f11f30d	She had said he had been driven away from her by a dream,--and there was no answer one could make her--there seemed to be no forgiveness for such a transgression. And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion. And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?	mankind humanity fear truth ambitious-minds ambitious-people driven idlesness self-motivated haunted human-condition grace self-loathing self-hate fall fire pride	Joseph Conrad
92e7607	She could not have asked for a more perfect day. The sun was shining, the humidity was low. There was a slight breeze. The water was a silvery blue. It was a bright, beautiful, early, autumn day. Perfect.	bay breeze waves blue fall sun water ocean	Sharon Brubaker
573aba8	And they left the mellow light of the dandelion wine and went upstairs to carry out the last few rituals of summer, for they felt that now the final day, the final night had come. As the day grew late they realized that for two or three nights now, porches had emptied early of their inhabitants. The air hard a different, drier smell and Grandma was talking of hot coffee instead of iced tea; the open, white-flutter-curtained windows were closing in the great bays; cold cuts were giving way to steamed beef. The mosquitos were gone from the porch, and surely when they abandoned the conflict the war with Time was really done, there was nothing for it but that humans also forsake the battleground.	fall summer	Ray Bradbury
481860f	When has been disappointed for so long, hope becomes the enemy. One cannot be dashed to the earth unless one is lifted first, and I learned to avoid hope.	time pain fear hope avoidance burn deny enemy ignore look-away hurt break fall crash weight disappointment	Robin Hobb
c55b215	Outside, under the marquee of the hotel, he stood a moment as he did each night beneath the marquee of the Hotel Hyperion, while he decided what direction to take, what to do. And suddenly, realizing it was not the Hotel Hyperion, that the circumstances were quite different, he felt loneliness spring up like a dark forest all around him. The odd thing was, he felt no impulse to hurry after her, to find her somehow. What would he have to offer her except the history of weakness, loneliness, and inadequacy, the decline and fall of himself? He himself was the core of the loneliness around him, and its core was inadequacy. He was inadequate even in love.	loneliness history dark love offer inadequacy hurry forest fall weakness direction impulse decline	Patricia Highsmith
40f2c2c	" Every season hath its pleasures; Spring may boast her flowery prime,	seasons spring fall	Thomas Moore
980dbdb	Lights from across the bay twinkled in the night and Christmas carols played softly in the background. She wished for snow to fall to add to the season.	music christmas-carols season christmas fall snow	Sharon Brubaker
430b2c2	Rafe said again.	tragedy helicopter rafe maya fall	Kelley Armstrong

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.

J.K. Rowling

1ec3cb1

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.

seasons september fall summer

Stephen King

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Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.

encourage nature life love inspirational trees fall autumn

Chad Sugg

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Her in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.

seasons poets nature fall walking pleasure

Jane Austen

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These fragments I have shored against my ruins

past fall aging nostalgia

T.S. Eliot

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"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. 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." [ , Oct. 1, 1841]" --

seasons nature fall weather

George Eliot

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[T]hat old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.

back-to-school new-beginnings september fall summer

Wallace Stegner

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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?

metaphor simile rain copy mimic shakespearean poetic fall wind cry crying despair wit howl

Mervyn Peake

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With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.

seasons spring fall ernest-hemingway

Ernest Hemingway

35ae358

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.

imagery fall

Ray Bradbury

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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

winter death love priceless fall

William Shakespeare

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LONDON. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln's Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snow-flakes -- gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another's umbrellas in a general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if the day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest. Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds. Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the sun may, from the spongey fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and ploughboy. Most of the shops lighted two hours before their time -- as the gas seems to know, for it has a haggard and unwilling look. The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy streets are muddiest near that leaden-headed old obstruction, appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old corporation, Temple Bar. And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln's Inn Hall, at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery.

bleak-house dickens classic-literature fog courts november justice-system fall london

Charles Dickens

a0f4116

After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth...The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her...In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible.

october fall

Elizabeth George Speare

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It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

seasons fall england weather

P.D. James

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Even in dreams, you could not fall forever.

dreams fall

George R.R. Martin

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The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.

seasons winter poets poetry writing apple april auden byron de-la-mare insomnia longfellow may morris nocturnal season september shelley spender tennyson pope apples coffee spring wordsworth milton fall hart-crane autumn tea keats night writers burns schiller

Helen Bevington

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And the worst thing was, there were no mirrors out there in the wild, so the princess was left wondering whether she in fact was still beautiful... or if the fall had changed the story completely.

fall princess

Scott Westerfeld

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Give me a land of boughs in lea

inspirational fall autumn

A.E. Housman

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"Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard." [ ]"

seasons fall fruit

Walt Whitman

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A pity to survive night flights over St. Georges Channel only to crack my skull falling from a ladder.

ladder fall pity

Eoin Colfer

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There was a filmy veil of soft dull mist obscuring, but not hiding, all objects, giving them a lilac hue, for the sun had not yet fully set; a robin was singing ... The leaves were more gorgeous than ever; the first touch of frost would lay them all low to the ground. Already one or two kept constantly floating down, amber and golden in the low slanting sun-rays.

seasons winter time beauty death garden gardens north-and-south outside fall dusk

Elizabeth Gaskell

3779a81

I ate breakfast in the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to the station through the most glorious October colouring. The sun came up on the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orange and the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the air was keen and clear and full of promise. I something was going to happen.

jerusha-abbott fall

Jean Webster

feeb7dd

November is usually such a disagreeable month...as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully...just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We've had lovely days and delicious twilights.

november fall

L.M. Montgomery

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Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.

bats dialogue-over-a-ouija-board ouija foliage leaves november bat fall wind

Sylvia Plath

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The house was very quiet, and the fog--we are in November now--pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.

e-m-forster howards-end autumnal november fall autumn description quiet

E.M. Forster

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It's fall coming, I thought, I can smell that sour-molasses smell of silage, clanging the air like a bell - smell like somebody's been burning oak leaves, left them to smolder overnight because they're too green.

fall scents

Ken Kesey

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...the air has that bracing autumnal bite so that all you want to do is bob for apples or hang a witch or something.

new-england fall

Sarah Vowell

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I was only twelve. But I knew how much I loved her. It was that love that comes before all significance of body and morals. It was that love that was no more bad than wind and sea and sand lying side by side forever. It was made of all the warm long days together at the beach, and the humming quiet days of droning education at the school. All the long Autumn days of the years past when I carried her books home from school.

education love beach october forever fall child morals school

Ray Bradbury

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"I love autumn", Emily said to me. "It wins you over with its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay."

two-by-two nicholas-sparks decay fall autumn

Nicholas Sparks

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We grow in part by confessing our faults and weaknesses to each other (James 5:16; Eccl. 4:10). If we are always being strong and without needs, we are not growing, and we are setting ourselves up for a very dangerous fall.

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Henry Cloud

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I love the autumn--that melancholy season that suits memories so well. When the trees have lost their leaves, when the sky at sunset still preserves the russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, it is sweet to watch the final fading of the fires that until recently burnt within you.

fall

Gustave Flaubert

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All we can hope for is that he will fall into the ocean with a bar of soap in his pocket.

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Eoin Colfer

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Things fall apart. But things don't just fall apart. People break them.

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Robin Wasserman

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The mountain trees that grew between the pines were a brilliant blaze of fall colors, like fire against the emerald green of the pines, firs and pruces. And it was, as I'd told myself long ago, the year's last passionate love affair before it grew old and died from the frosty bite of winter.

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V.C. Andrews

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Yet the higher a man climbs the further he has to fall.

fall

George R.R. Martin

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People don't look like people anymore after they've fallen from over a hundred floors above the ground.

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Rebecca McNutt

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I've been alive a long time, long enough to know that the more baggage you carry in life, the more unstable you'll be, until eventually you get sick of carrying it, and then you just fall down.

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Rebecca McNutt

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"When they turned off, it was still early in the pink and green fields. The fumes of morning, sweet and bitter, sprang up where they walked. The insects ticked softly, their strength in reserve; butterflies chopped the air, going to the east, and the birds flew carelessly and sang by fits. They went down again and soon the smell of the river spread over the woods, cool and secret. Every step they took among the great walls of vines and among the passion-flowers started up a little life, a little flight. 'We're walking along in the changing-time,' said Doc. 'Any day now the change will come. It's going to turn from hot to cold, and we can kill the hog that's ripe and have fresh meat to eat. Come one of these nights and we can wander down here and tree a nice possum. Old Jack Frost will be pinching things up. Old Mr. Winter will be standing in the door. Hickory tree there will be yellow. Sweet-gum red, hickory yellow, dogwood red, sycamore yellow.' He went along rapping the tree trunks with his knuckle. 'Magnolia and live-oak never die. Remember that. Persimmons will all get fit to eat, and the nuts will be dropping like rain all through the woods here. And run, little quail, run, for we'll be after you too.' They went on and suddenly the woods opened upon light, and they had reached the river. Everyone stopped, but Doc talked on ahead as though nothing had happened. 'Only today,' he said, 'today, in October sun, it's all gold--sky and tree and water. Everything just before it changes looks to be made of gold.' ("The Wide Net")"

october fall

Eudora Welty

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And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion. And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?

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Joseph Conrad

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I pass a construction site, abandoned for the night, and a few blocks later, the playground of the elementary school my son attended, the metal sliding board gleaming under a streetlamp and the swings stirring in the breeze. There's an energy to these autumn nights that touches something primal inside of me. Something from long ago. From my childhood in western Iowa. I think of high school football games and the stadium lights blazing down on the players. I smell ripening apples, and the sour reek of beer from keg parties in the cornfields. I feel the wind in my face as I ride in the bed of an old pickup truck down a country road at night, dust swirling in the taillights and the entire span of my life yawning out ahead o me. It's the beautiful thing about youth. There's a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential. I love my life, but I haven't felt that lightness of being in ages. Autumn nights like this are as close as I get.

youth smell walks fall night memory

Blake Crouch

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Eve was tempted not by wealth or love but by knowledge.

temptation fall knowledge

Philip Pullman

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Pride goes before a fall.

fire-and-blood fall pride failure

George R.R. Martin

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She had said he had been driven away from her by a dream,--and there was no answer one could make her--there seemed to be no forgiveness for such a transgression. And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and of excessive devotion. And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?

mankind humanity fear truth ambitious-minds ambitious-people driven idlesness self-motivated haunted human-condition grace self-loathing self-hate fall fire pride

Joseph Conrad

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She could not have asked for a more perfect day. The sun was shining, the humidity was low. There was a slight breeze. The water was a silvery blue. It was a bright, beautiful, early, autumn day. Perfect.

bay breeze waves blue fall sun water ocean

Sharon Brubaker

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And they left the mellow light of the dandelion wine and went upstairs to carry out the last few rituals of summer, for they felt that now the final day, the final night had come. As the day grew late they realized that for two or three nights now, porches had emptied early of their inhabitants. The air hard a different, drier smell and Grandma was talking of hot coffee instead of iced tea; the open, white-flutter-curtained windows were closing in the great bays; cold cuts were giving way to steamed beef. The mosquitos were gone from the porch, and surely when they abandoned the conflict the war with Time was really done, there was nothing for it but that humans also forsake the battleground.

fall summer

Ray Bradbury

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When has been disappointed for so long, hope becomes the enemy. One cannot be dashed to the earth unless one is lifted first, and I learned to avoid hope.

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Robin Hobb

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Outside, under the marquee of the hotel, he stood a moment as he did each night beneath the marquee of the Hotel Hyperion, while he decided what direction to take, what to do. And suddenly, realizing it was not the Hotel Hyperion, that the circumstances were quite different, he felt loneliness spring up like a dark forest all around him. The odd thing was, he felt no impulse to hurry after her, to find her somehow. What would he have to offer her except the history of weakness, loneliness, and inadequacy, the decline and fall of himself? He himself was the core of the loneliness around him, and its core was inadequacy. He was inadequate even in love.

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Patricia Highsmith

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" Every season hath its pleasures; Spring may boast her flowery prime,

seasons spring fall

Thomas Moore

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Lights from across the bay twinkled in the night and Christmas carols played softly in the background. She wished for snow to fall to add to the season.

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Sharon Brubaker

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Rafe said again.

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Kelley Armstrong