Fall Foliage Quotes

Autumn is really the best of the seasons; and I'm not sure that old age isn't the best part of life.

Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

Outside, a gusty October breeze was combing leaves from the trees and sending them across her backyard in colorful skitters.

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.

I tend to like the last sentence I just wrote, which is: 'It was late in the fall and the trees lining our driveway had turned red like a row of burning matches.'

My favourite season is autumn, and I love walking through woods.

Autumn arrives in the early morning.

I liked New England.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tendered kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.

Of faire things, the Autumne is faire.

Autumn in New York, why does it seem so inviting?

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.

Upstate New York in the middle of October. You can't get more beautiful than that.

November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.

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.

Autumn is full of leave-taking.

November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year.

There is a harmony In autumn, and a luster in its sky...

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?

Outside the leaves on the trees constricted slightly; they were the deep done green of the beginning of autumn. It was a Sunday in September. There would only be four. The clouds were high and the swallows would be here for another month or so before they left for the south before they returned again next summer.

October is nature's funeral month. Nature glories in death more than in life. The month of departure is more beautiful than the month of coming - October than May. Every green thin loves to die in bright colors.