Simon Schama Quotes

October is nature's funeral month. Nature glories in death more than in life. The month of departure is more beautiful than the month of coming - October than May. Every green thin loves to die in bright colors.

February is a suitable month for dying. Everything around is dead, the trees black and frozen so that the appearance of green shoots two months hence seems preposterous, the ground hard and cold, the snow dirty, the winter hateful, hanging on too long.

Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the winter's snow.

Autumn. Pretty leaves, pumpkin pie and sweaters. Perfect weather for reading. Winter is great but I hate shoveling.

I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.

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

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. . . .

Behold congenial Autumn comes, the Sabbath of the Year.

Magnificent autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds; not like a hermit, clad in gray; but like a warrior with the stain of blood in his brazen mail.

Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.

Suddenly it was fall, the season of death, the anniversary of things-going-to-hell.

And if there are no cars or planes, and if no one’s Uncle John is out in the wood lot west of town banging away at a quail or pheasant; if the only sound is the slow beat of your own heart, you can hear another sound, and that is the sound of life winding down to its cyclic close, waiting for the first winter snow to perform last rites.

Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

Dull winter will re-appear.

Autumn truly is what summer pretends to be: the best of all seasons. It is as glorious as summer is tedious; as subtle as summer is obvious; as refreshing as summer is wearying. Autumn seems like paradise.

Autumn is really the best of the seasons; and I'm not sure that old age isn't the best part of life.

Autumn is full of leave-taking.

Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter!

All in November's soaking mist We stand and prune the naked tree, While all our love and interest Seem quenched in the blue-nosed misery.

A world without pain, loss, betrayal, hate, death, loneliness? Impossible!

There is a harmony In autumn, and a luster in its sky...

The last dregs of winter spoiling the taste of everything.

Autumn is a hint from God to Old Age.