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.
