A Quote by Elizabeth Goudge

autumn days have a holiness that spring lacks ... They are like old serene saints for whom death has lost its terror. — © Elizabeth Goudge
autumn days have a holiness that spring lacks ... They are like old serene saints for whom death has lost its terror.
Why I so much prefer autumn to spring is that in the autumn one looks at heaven--in the spring at the earth.
The American spring is by no means so agreeable as the American autumn; both move with faltering step, and slow; but this lingering pace, which is delicious in autumn, is most tormenting in the spring.
I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content.
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death be like autumn leaves. Rabindranath Tagore What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.
My granda always told me that fall's the time to root up something you don't want coming back to trouble you.' Kote mimicked the quaver of an old man's voice. 'Things are too full of life in the spring months. In the summer, they're too strong and won't let go. Autumn...' He looked around at the changing leaves on the trees. 'Autumn's the time. In autumn everything is tired and ready to die.
While we only look at Nature it is fair to say that Autumn is the end of the year; but it is still more true that Autumn is the beginning of the year.... Autumn is the time when in fact the leaves bud. Leaves wither because winter begins; but they also wither because spring is already beginning, because new buds are being made, as tiny as percussion caps out of which the spring will crack.... It is only an optical illusion that my flowers die in autumn; for in reality they are born.
The falling leaf that tells of autumn's death is, in a subtler sense, a prophecy of spring.
All of us must be saints in this world. Holiness is a duty for you and me. So let's be saints and so give glory to the Father.
There are the saints of every day, the 'hidden' saints, a sort of 'middle class of holiness'... to which we can all belong.
There is something tenderly appropriate in the serene death of the old. Nothing is more touching than the death of the young, the strong.
Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows, as the winds of change begin to blow, signaling the later days of autumn.
Designers want me to dress like Spring, in billowing things. I don't feel like Spring. I feel like a warm red Autumn.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
Life and death are nothing but the mind. Years, months, days, and hours are nothing but the mind. Dreams, illusions, and mirages are nothing but the mind. The bubbles of water and the flames of fire are nothing but the mind. The flowers of the spring and the moon of the autumn are nothing but the mind. Confusions and dangers are nothing but the mind.
In spring when maple buds are red, We turn the clock an hour ahead; Which means, each April that arrives, We lose an hour out of our lives. Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks Fly southward, back we turn the clocks, And so regain a lovely thing That missing hour we lost in spring.
We are reformers in the spring and summer, but in autumn we stand by the old. Reformers in the morning, and conservers at night.
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