Every blade in the field, every leaf in the forest, lays down its life in its season, as beautifully as it was taken up. It is the pastime of a full quarter of the year. Dead trees, sere leaves, dried grass and herbs—are not these a good part of our life? And what is that pride of our autumnal scenery but the hectic flush, the sallow and cadaverous countenance of vegetation? its painted throes, with the November air for canvas?
—Henry David Thoreau, letter to Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1842
September is dressing herself in showy dahlias and splendid marigolds and starry zinnias. October, the extravagant sister, has ordered an immense amount of the most gorgeous forest tapestry for her grand reception.
—Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809–1894), “Autumn,” The Atlantic Almanac, 1868
The sun declined, and we both fell into twilight silence. Night, which in autumn seems to fall from the sky at once, it comes so quickly, chilled us, and we rolled ourselves in our cloaks…
—Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly (1808-1889)
Fiery colors begin their yearly conquest of the hills, propelled by the autumn winds. Fall is the artist.
— Takayuki Ikkaku, Animal Crossing: Wild World (Nintendo video game)
hide the path
—John Bailey, a haiku year, 2001