Tom Robbins Quotes

Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows, as the winds of change begin to blow, signaling the later days of autumn.

We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost.

There is a time in the last few days of summer when the ripeness of autumn fills the air.

I have come to regard November as the older, harder man's October. I appreciate the early darkness and cooler temperatures. It puts my mind in a different place than October. It is a month for a quieter, slightly more subdued celebration of summer's death as winter tightens its grip.

I tend to like the last sentence I just wrote, which is: 'It was late in the fall and the trees lining our driveway had turned red like a row of burning matches.'

The spring, summer, is quite a hectic time for people in their lives, but then it comes to autumn, and to winter, and you can't but help think back to the year that was, and then hopefully looking forward to the year that is approaching.

I am the host with the challah French toast.

In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, The regiments of autumn stood: I saw their gold and scarlet glowing From every hillside, every wood.

Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.

You ought to know that October is the first Spring month.

I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know.

Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.

The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;- Old age, begin sighing!

I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope and is always thrilling.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen.

And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood.

I can love October in September. September doesn’t care.

What if the leaves were to fall a-weeping, and say, "It will be so painful for us to be pulled from our stalks, when autumn comes?" Foolish fear! Summer goes, and autumn succeeds. The glory of death is upon the leaves; and the gentlest breeze that blows takes them softly and silently from the bough, and they float slowly down, like fiery sparks, upon the moss.

And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

Autumn is full of leave-taking. In September the swallows are chattering of destination and departure like a crowd of tourists.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.