Autumn Quote by Mary C. Ames Download Open image “The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.” — Mary C. Ames ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 2.6 out of 5 (3 ratings) Copy quoteShare Autumn Fall Indian Indian summer July Soul Spirituality Summer
The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of… — Henry Adams Copy Share Image
Then in October, Indian Summer, the air turned so soft, the sunlight so fragile, and each day's loveliness so poignantly doomed that even self-ignorance… — David James Duncan Copy Share Image
“Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile." [ Indian Summer ]” — John Howard Bryant Copy Share Image
“Indian summer comes gently, folds over the hills and valleys as softly as the fall of a leaf on a windless day. It is always unexpected. After a sharp cold spell, we wake one morning and look out and the very air is golden. The sky has a delicate dreamy color, and the yet unfallen leaves on the bravest trees… — Gladys Taber Copy Share
The perfect weather of Indian Summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air. — Wallace Stegner Copy Share Image
“We know summer is the height of of being alive. We don't believe in God or the prospect of an afterlife mostly, so we… — Gary Shteyngart Copy Share Image
“It was a beautiful Indian summer morning and perfect for savoring a few extra minutes in bed. There was a breeze blowing through my… — Nancy B. Brewer Copy Share Image
Balm of the summer night, balm of the ordinary, imperial joy and sorrow of human existence, the dreamed as well as the lived— what… — Louise Glück Copy Share Image
...prodigal summer, the season of extravagant procreation. It could wear out everything in its path with its passionate excesses, but nothing alive with wings… — Barbara Kingsolver Copy Share Image
What more degrades woman today than that she so often seeks marriage as a support? Why is the holy sacrament of love, the sanctity of the family state, so often prostituted and destroyed, but because marriage is entered upon as a necessity or a convenience? And what can so place marriage on its only true basis of mutual love, mutual… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share
The woman born to physical subjection and degradation can never seek or use knowledge as her birthright. Never till she holds her sex in… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
Always man needs woman for his friend. He needs her clearer vision, her subtler insight, her softer thought, her winged soul, her pure and… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
I lay my tasks down one by one; I sit in the silence of twilight grace. Out of the shadows, deep and dun, Steals, like a star, my Baby's face. … I will take up my work once more, As if I had never laid it down. Who will dream that I ever wore, In triumph, motherhood's sacred crown? …… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share
The man born and bred a slave, even if freed, never loses wholly the feeling or manner of a slave. — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost, Who sums the treasure that it carries hence? Torn, trampled under feet, who counts thy cost, Star-eyed… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
Today the manliest man would be ashamed to look into the eyes of the woman by his side and tell her that he is… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
What is love at first sight but a proof of the powerful but silent language of physiognomy? — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
To serve thy generation, this thy fate: "Written in water," swiftly fades thy name; But he who loves his kind does, first and late,… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
A shining isle in a stormy sea, We seek it ever with smiles and sighs; To-day is sad. In the bland To-be, Serene and… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
Most people carry an ideal man and woman in their head, and when the practical relations of the men and women of every day… — Mary C. Ames Copy Share Image
The deepest insult which can be shown to a human being is to associate it solely with material functions, with no cognizance and no… — Mary C. Ames 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
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