The gloomy recess of an ecclesiastical library is like a harbor, into which a far-traveling curiosity has sailed with its freight, and… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share Image
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
The Taste Of Oranges The Walk In Frost The Golden Sunlight The Beauty Of Autumn Colors The Magic Of Wet Red Leaves… — Babloo Copy Share Image
“I have never been back to the Ozarks. All I have left are my dreams and memories, but if God is willing,… — Wilson Rawls Copy Share Image
“Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes… — Carl Sandburg Copy Share Image
There is a door. It opens. Then it is closed. But a slip of light stays, like a scrap of unreadable paper… — Jane Hirshfield Copy Share Image
Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“When facing a single tree, if you look at a single one of its red leaves, you will not see all the… — Takuan Soho Copy Share Image
“She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goosefleshed and shivering in the fog. In her hand, Needle seemed to… — George R.R. Martin Copy Share Image
“Grief takes about a year,” Mrs. Kelly once told a young mother who had lost her son. “You have to get through… — Patricia Harman Copy Share Image
“Vespers In your extended absence, you permit me use of earth, anticipating some return on investment. I must report failure in my… — Louise Gluck Copy Share Image
“As a child, crisp spring afternoons were spent wading along Reedy Creek just beyond the field. Then came the heavy breeze in… — James Russell Lingerfelt Copy Share Image
Not only is the day waning, but the year. The low sun is fiery and yet cold behind the monastery ruin, and… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
“Only what slips through one's fingers, only what is never expressed in words, has no thoughts, exists completely. That is the price… — Karl Ove Knausgaard Copy Share Image
The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging… — Samuel Taylor Coleridge Copy Share Image
“It was an unusual sunset. Having sat behind opaque drapery all day, I had not realized that a storm was pushing in… — Thomas Ligotti Copy Share Image
You know that scenario where roses are red, leaves are green, I love arguing that. ‘Why should they be?’. I hate rules… — Philip Treacy Copy Share Image
How do you see those tree?... They are yellow. Well then put down yellow. And that shadow is rather blue. So render… — Paul Gauguin Copy Share Image
The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold.... I see your lips, the summer kisses The… — Johnny Mercer Copy Share Image
“It's just a stupid sword," she said, aloud this time... ... but it wasn't. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her… — George R.R. Martin Copy Share Image
There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint light of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller branches… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
The colour of a British wood in autumn is predominantly yellow. There are relatively few European trees which have red leaves in… — Alice Roberts Copy Share Image
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
I'm sure the red fern has grown and has completely covered the two little mounds. I know it is still there, hiding… — Wilson Rawls Copy Share Image
The once red leaf, the last of its clan, that dances as often as dance it can. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge Copy Share Image
