Fallen leaves lying on the grass in the November sun bring more happiness than the daffodils.
November is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for ten months and not doing any for another two.
Nobody is perfect, but people born in November almost get there.
November's sky is chill and drear,
November's leaf is red and sear.
November's leaf is red and sear.
November always seems to me the Norway of the year.
The wind that makes music in November corn is in a hurry. The stalks hum, the loose husks whisk skyward in half-playing swirls, and the wind hurries on... A tree tries to argue, bare limbs waving, but there is no detaining the wind.
There comes a time when people get tired of being pushed out of the glittering sunlight of life's July and left standing amid the piercing chill of an alpine November.
Anyone else got the feeling that October lasted exactly three days?
Hey November, let's go out together in the next thirty days!
All the other months are just crude experiments, out of which the perfect November is made.
But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.
The thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of. The mite which November contributes becomes equal in value to the bounty of July.
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There is a time in the last few days of summer when the ripeness of autumn fills the air.
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.
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather and autumn's best of cheer.
Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning.
Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable. The hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese.
Autmn is spring time in reverse.
Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky.
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky.
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.
Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.
Lauren DeStefano in Chemical Garden - Wither
I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house.
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.
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!
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Our spirits need simple things, the smell of fresh-turned earth and the ancient music of wind among the trees.
For observing nature, the best pace is a snail's pace.
The world is full of magic. Small things become big. Winter turns to spring. One thing always changes into another.
Denahi in Brother Bear
6Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example, you're walking along minding your own business, you're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of the sudden, you run smack into a pretty face. You begin to get weak in the knees, your head's in a whirl! And then you feel light as feather, and before you know it you're walking on air! And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop! And you completely lose your head!
Friend Owl in Bambi
8Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice; journalism what will be grasped at once.
Classical and romantic: private language of a family quarrel, a dead dispute over the distribution of emphasis between man and nature.
What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.
People moving to Norway has made Norway richer, economically, but also our culture has become more rich in many ways.
When you come to Norway, you should leave Oslo as soon as possible. Not because Oslo isn't a great city, but because the rest of the country is so beautiful.
Conservation is a state of harmony between men and land.
Snow in April is abominable. Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.