#autumn

Give me a land of boughs in leaf A land of trees that stand; Where trees are fallen there is grief; I love no leafless land. ↗

— A.E. Housman

#fall #inspirational #inspirational

The summer ended. Day by day, and taking its time, the summer ended. The noises in the street began to change, diminish, voices became fewer, the music sparse. Daily, blocks and blocks of children were spirited away. Grownups retreated from the streets, into the houses. Adolescents moved from the sidewalk to the stoop to the hallway to the stairs, and rooftops were abandoned. Such trees as there were allowed their leaves to fall - they fell unnoticed - seeming to promise, not without bitterness, to endure another year. At night, from a distance, the parks and playgrounds seemed inhabited by fireflies, and the night came sooner, inched in closer, fell with a greater weight. The sound of the alarm clock conquered the sound of the tambourine, the houses put on their winter faces. The houses stared down a bitter landscape, seeming, not without bitterness, to have resolved to endure another year. ↗

— James Baldwin

#seasons #summer #change

Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad? ↗

— Dodie Smith

#mist #summer #romantic

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason. ↗

— Ernest Hemingway

#person

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay. ↗

— Robert Browning

#autumn #best #decay #mute #sympathy

In spring they lie flat at the first warmth, they ruin my summer and in autumn they smell of women. ↗

— Hugo Claus

#first #flat #lie #ruin #smell

The smell of burning firewood and the molding of organic, earthy substances reminded her of jumping wildly into the enormous leaf piles of autumns past and she suddenly wished that it was appropriate for someone her age to do such a thing. ↗

— Abby Slovin

#funny #humor #age

Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter's deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world's oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter. ↗

— Shauna Niequist

#art

Que sigue pagando el otono con tanto dinero amarillo? What does autumn go on paying for with so much yellow money? ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#money

jangan marah padaku kalau aku menangis, Hari ini saja Kau boleh lihat sendiri nanti. Kau akan lihat tak lama lagi aku akan kembali bekerja, tertawa, dan mengoceh seperti biasa, aku janji. ↗

— Ilana Tan

#paris