Summer To Fall Quotes

You choose the end of the summer to fall in love with this guy because secretly, you don’t want it to last.

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and mojito in your hand.

Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?

Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.

We are reformers in the spring and summer, but in autumn we stand by the old. Reformers in the morning, and conservers at night.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.

There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.

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.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.

Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.

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

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night by night the monitory blast Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes, Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold.... I see your lips, the summer kisses The sunburned hands, I used to hold Since you went away, the days grow long And soon I'll hear ol' winter's song. But I miss you most of all my darling, When autumn leaves start to fall.

Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.

The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

The foliage has been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

There is no season such delight can bring, as summer, autumn, winter and the spring.

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days The flower ripens in its place, Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.

If winter is slumber and spring is birth, and summer is life, then autumn rounds out to be reflection. It's a time of year when the leaves are down and the harvest is in and the perennials are gone. Mother Earth just closed up the drapes on another year and it's time to reflect on what's come before.

Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!

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

But then 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.