October is a symphony of permanence and change.
October is crisp days and cold nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.
I have been younger in October than in all the months of spring.
October is the opal month of the year. It is the month of glory, of ripeness. It is the picture-month.
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath,
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William Cullen Bryant - October. A Sonnet.
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.
There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.
October is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for nine months and not doing any for another three.
Nobody is perfect, but people born in October almost get there.
I wish that every day was Saturday and every month was October.
October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again.
There are two seasons when the leaves are in their glory, their green and perfect youth in June and this their ripe old age in October.
Anyone else got the feeling that September lasted exactly three days?
Hey October, let's go out together in the next thirty days!
All the other months are just crude experiments, out of which the perfect October is made.
October was always the least dependable of months... full of ghosts and shadows.
You might like these Quotes aswell
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.
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.
Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree.
Pale is the February sky,
And brief the mid-day's sunny hours;
The wind-swept forest seems to sigh
For the sweet time of leaves and flowers.
And brief the mid-day's sunny hours;
The wind-swept forest seems to sigh
For the sweet time of leaves and flowers.
William Cullen Bryant - The Twenty-Second of February
Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
The best thing about Sunday is Saturday night.
"Oh man, what a year it was!"
"Dude, it's the middle of February."
"Dude, it's the middle of February."
Hey March, let's go out together in the next thirty days!
April is a gentle reminder for not having done a single thing from your new year resolution for three months and not doing any for the next nine.
If I had my way, I'd remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.