Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly.Louis Ginsberg
Fall is one of the four seasons.
- "For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad."
- Edwin Way Teale, Autumn Across America
- "Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees."
- "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."
- Mitchell Burgess, Northern Exposure, Thanksgiving, 1992
- "It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life."
- "Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."
- "Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter."
- "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."
- "Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. "
- "No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face."
- "Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze."
- "October's poplars are flaming torches lighting the way to winter."
- "falling leaves
hide the path
- John Bailey, "Autumn," a haiku year, 2001
- "October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band."
- George Cooper, "October's Party"
- "Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits."
- "Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn."
- "October is a symphony of permanence and change."
- "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."
- "O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe, And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers."
- "Autumn wins you best by this, its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay."
- "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."
- "All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn."
- "The mellow autumn came, and with it came The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. The corn is cut, the manor full of game; The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim; Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants."
- "Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn days."
- "No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face; Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape; This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape."
- "I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;-- Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn. "