Autumn Quote by Dorothy Parker Download Open image “Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.” — Dorothy Parker ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 2.7 out of 5 (10 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Hate I hate Spring Summer Winter
Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winters pretty lousy, but I hate Spring. — Reina Copy Share Image
I love summertime more than anything else in the world. That is the only thing that gets me through the winter, knowing that summer… — Jack McBrayer Copy Share Image
Like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its… — Lin Yutang Copy Share Image
I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older. — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
“Spring is sweet, the baby season; summer is the teenage season -- too much energy, too much growth and beauty and heat and late… — Anne Lamott Copy Share Image
Winter is one of my most tolerable seasons because I can be lazy without having to make excuses. — Hannah Copy Share Image
I actually liked the disolation of winter; it was the season when it was okay to be unhappy. If I were to ever kill… — Curtis Sittenfeld Copy Share Image
There's little in taking or giving, There's little in water or wine: This living, this living, this living, Was never a project of mine.… — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
Hollywood is the one place on earth where you could die of encouragement. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
“The two most beautiful words in the English language are 'check enclosed.” — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
Sometimes I think Ill give up trying, and just go completely Russian and sit on a stove and moan all day. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
I was always sweet, at first. Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
Misfortune, and recited misfortune especially, can be prolonged to the point where it ceases to excite pity and arouses only irritation. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
The sun's gone dim, and the moon's gone black. For I loved him, and he didn't love back. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
There's a hell of a distance between wisecracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words. — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I… — Dorothy Parker Copy Share Image
This, at last, was where things were as they ought to be. Everything was in its place -- the tree, the earth underneath, the… — Jean Liedloff Copy Share Image
The American spring is by no means so agreeable as the American autumn; both move with faltering step, and slow; but this lingering pace,… — Frances Trollope Copy Share Image
“Flowers that had bloomed brilliant from spring through autumn blackened under the killing frost.” — Nora Roberts Copy Share Image
“FALL I've never liked orange not even a hint of yellow though that doesn't mean I'm derange, you know. but it's still a riddle… — Kynna Claire Copy Share Image
The trees change their voices in autumn as well as their shapes. No longer do they whisper to one another in muffled tones as… — Patience Strong Copy Share Image
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share Image
“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“Easter blessings All life’s sacrifices like autumn leaves awaken our senses and power to love and be whole Our Mother Earth, Our Father Sky… — Ramon Ravenswood Copy Share Image
The lush green of the fields became a rich gold that swayed sturdily under the wind and fell at last before the hands of… — Martha Ostenso Copy Share Image
The ascent of any route begins, in dreams at least, the autumn before. Our minds ring, involuntarily, with the alluring names of mountains, aiguilles,… — Gaston Rebuffat Copy Share Image