Autumn Quote by Francis Brett Young Download Open image “An autumn garden has a sadness when the sun is not shining...” — Francis Brett Young ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 4.1 out of 5 (10 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Garden Gardening Sadness Shining Sun
“The garden has wrapped itself in autumn haze. An unusual autumn, lacking that thrill of vegetal warmth when the sap is still alive and holds up the trees, drunk on solar gold. It is the sorrowful climax of a summer's drought. Never before was I so struck by the cancerous emaciation in a garden. The leaves started turning yellow in… — Emil Dorian Copy Share
Why is it that so many of us persist in thinking that autumn is a sad season? Nature has merely fallen asleep, and her… — Samuel Taylor Coleridge Copy Share Image
A garden is to be a world unto itself, it had better make room for the darker shades of feeling as well as the… — William Kent Copy Share Image
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night by night the monitory… — William Allingham Copy Share Image
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves. — Rabindranath Tagore Copy Share Image
The Autumn seems to cry for thee,Best lover of the Autumn-days! — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
“Hic Jacet Arthurus Rex Quondam Rexque Futurus Arthur is gone…Tristram in Careol Sleeps, with a broken sword - and Yseult sleeps Beside him, where the Westering waters roll Over drowned Lyonesse to the outer deeps. Lancelot is fallen . . . The ardent helms that shone So knightly and the splintered lances rust In the anonymous mould of Avalon: Gawain… — Francis Brett Young Copy Share
All primitive people are frightened of owls,' said Harley. 'The villagers here are scared to death of the gufo. Birds of ill omen. If… — Francis Brett Young Copy Share Image
“And as we stood there, a curious thing happened: a kind of window opened in the rain, just as if a cloud had been… — Francis Brett Young 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 rock, the moss. In autumn, it would be right; in winter under the snow, it would be perfect in its wintriness. Spring would come again and miracle within miracle would unfold, each at its special pace,… — Jean Liedloff Copy Share
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 they did in summer; they talk in a different leaf-language now. The wind moves through the boughs like fingers drawn across the strings of a harp filling the air with the harsh dry sound of sapless… — Patience Strong Copy Share
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles… — Pablo Neruda Copy Share
“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, faces and ridges, Is it the name itself which is so tempting, or the picture we have of the mountain itself, or does the appeal come from our feeling of the actual process of climbing? All… — Gaston Rebuffat Copy Share
