But I remember more dearly autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees
He smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, "Life is so beautiful." ... Yes, he thought, if I can die saying, "Life is so beautiful," then nothing else is important.
Form your own color concept of things in nature. I have no rules for fine color to give you.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
It is a time of quiet joy, the sunny morning. When the glittery dew is on the mallow weeds, each leaf holds a jewel which is beautiful if not valuable. This is no time for hurry or for bustle. Thoughts are slow and deep and golden in the morning.
There is a harmony In autumn, and a luster in its sky...
Again the violet of our early days Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun, And kindles into fragrance at his blaze.
When we learn to say a deep, passionate yes to the things that really matter, then peace begins to settle onto our lives like golden sunlight sifting to a forest floor.
Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.
Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
