Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils.— Cyril Connolly
Cheerful Autumn Leaves quotations
The pain will leave once it has finished teaching you.
While cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
I loved you when love was Spring, and May, Loved you when summer deepened into June, and now when autumn yellows all the leaves.
Love her but leave her wild.
The winter will be short, the summer long, The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot, Tasting of cider and of scuppernong; All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all. The squirrels in their silver fur will fall Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.
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.
What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!
You must be willing to leave the life that you planned in order to find the one waiting for you.
Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves bestrew the road, and you can feel the breath of winter, morning and evening - no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and with such a reverent meekness in the air.
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!
The mission of your life should be to leave a better world behind than what you inherited.
Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place, and I can picture it after all these days.
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
Never speak from a place of hate, jealousy, anger or insecurity. Evaluate your words before you let them leave your lips. Sometimes it's best to be quiet.
Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
However far I gaze Neither cherry blossoms nor Crimson leaves are in sight.
Only a fisherman's hut on the shore In the autumnal evening.
A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air.
Travel is not really about leaving our homes, but leaving our habits.
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.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
Spring is beautiful, and summer is perfect for vacations, but autumn brings a longing to get away from the unreal things of life, out into the forest at night with a campfire and the rustling leaves.
To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children... to leave the world a better place... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
It's the hardest thing in the world, to accept a little success and leave it that way.
The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.
The leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.
All trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.
The circus looks abandoned and empty.
But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold.
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.
Sad that our finest aspiration, Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.
The only things you can take with you when you leave this world are the things you've packed inside your heart.
A moral character is attached to autumnal scenes;
the leaves falling like our years, the flowers fading like our hours, the clouds fleeting like our illusions, the light diminishing like our intelligence, the sun growing colder like our affections, the rivers becoming frozen like our lives--all bear secret relations to our destinies.
He got out of bed and peeped through the blinds.
To the east and opposite to him gardens and an apple-orchard lay, and there in strange liquid tranquility hung the morning star, and rose, rilling into the dusk of night the first grey of dawn. The street beneath its autumn leaves was vacant, charmed, deserted.
How strange and awful is the synthesis of life and death in the gusty winds and falling leaves of an autumnal day!
Train people well enough so they can leave. Treat the well enough so they don't want to.
Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.
[I have] a heavenly vase full of autumn leaves today.
They look so beautiful. How much closer to God can one get? And a beautiful blue heron flew over the brook. Nature can make me cry faster than anything.
Looking about I see no cherry blossoms And no crimson leaves A straw-thatched hut by a bay In the autumn dusk.
He types his labored column -- weary drudge! Senile fudge and solemn: spare, editor, to condemn these dry leaves of his autumn.
The once red leaf, the last of its clan, that dances as often as dance it can.