A Quote by William Shakespeare
When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.
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When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
When death comes, it's just like winter. We don't say, "There ought not to be winter." That the winter season, when the leaves fall and the snow comes, is some kind of defeat, something which we should hold out against. No. Winter is part of the natural course of events. No winter, no summer. No cold, no heat.
The falling leaves drift by the window The autumn leaves of red and gold.... I see your lips, the summer kisses The sunburned hands, I used to hold Since you went away, the days grow long And soon I'll hear ol' winter's song. But I miss you most of all my darling, When autumn leaves start to fall.
Shall we all be saved? Shall we go to Heaven? Alas, my children, we do not know at all! But I tremble when I see so many souls lost these days. See, they fall into Hell as leaves fall from the trees at the approach of winter.
When she sees the leaves fall, they raise no other idea in her mind than that winter is approaching.
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.
Trees in winter lose their leaves. Some trees may even fall during storms, but most stand patiently and bear their fortune.
Autumn. Pretty leaves, pumpkin pie and sweaters. Perfect weather for reading. Winter is great but I hate shoveling.
California, where the spring comes in the fall and the fall comes in the summer and the summer comes in the winter and the winter never comes at all.
Leaves like rusty tin
for the desolate mind that has seen the end-
the barest glimmerings.
Leaves aswirl with gulls
made wild by winter.
Peace to these little broken leaves, That strew our common ground; That chase their tails, like silly dogs, As they go round and round. For though in winter boughs are bare, Let us not once forget Their summer glory, when these leaves Caught the great Sun in their strong net; And made him, in the lower air, Tremble - no bigger than a star!
The Bowery Hotel is always a great place to meet people for drinks. It's so cozy in there, especially in the late fall and winter.
So, timely you came, and well you chose, You came when most needed, my winter rose. From the snow I pluck you, and fondly press Your leaves 'twixt the leaves of my leaflessness.
My mother could never have said she loved fall, but as she walked down the steps with her suitcase in hand toward the red Monte Carlo her husband had been waiting in for nearly an hour, she could have said that she respected its place as a mediator between two extremes. Fall came and went, while winter was endured and summer was revered. Fall was the repose that made both possible and bearable, and now here she was was with her husband next to her, heading headlong into an early-fall afternoon with only the vaguest ideas of who they were becoming and what came next.
The leaves fall patiently
Nothing remembers or grieves
The river takes to the sea
The yellow drift of leaves.
Nightfall. “What a strange word. ‘Night’ I get. But ‘fall’ is a gentle word. Autumn leaves fall, swirling with languid grace To carpet the earth with their dying blaze. Tears fall, like liquid diamonds Shimmering softly, before they melt away. Night doesn’t fall here. It comes slamming down.
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