Autumn Quotes


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“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.” John Howard Bryant

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”    L. M. Montgomery

 

“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”   Jim Bishop

 

“Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.”    Friedrich Nietzsche

 

“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.”

 John Donne

 

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

 Lee Maynard

 

“Designers want me to dress like spring, in billowing things. I don’t feel like spring. I feel like a warm red autumn.”

 Marilyn Monroe

 

“The tints of autumn…a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.”

John Greenleaf Whittier

 

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”

 Stanley Horowitz

“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

 

“It’s the first day of autumn! A time of hot chocolatey mornings, and toasty marshmallow evenings, and, best of all, leaping into leaves!” Winnie the Pooh Pooh’s Grand Adventure

 

“Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.”

Lauren DeStefano, Wither

 

“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.”

 George Eliot

 

“Fall colors are funny. They’re so bright and intense and beautiful. It’s like nature is trying to fill you up with color, to saturate you so you can stockpile it before winter turns everything muted and dreary.”

 Siobhan Vivian

 

“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.”

 Gustave Flaubert, Memoirs of a Madman and November

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