Vita Sackville-West Quotes

The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year - the days when summer is changing into autumn - the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.

Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.

Autumn is leaving its mellowness behind for its spiky, rotted stage. Don't remember summer even saying goodbye.

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead thuds of logs below falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.

Surely 't is better, when summer is over To die when all fair things are fading away.

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

The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.

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

'Boys of Summer,' to me, is like the end of the summer, man. That heartbreaking feeling where you have to go back to school, your summer love is coming to an end, and the leaves are changing. That was always such an emotional time for me as a kid, because I loved summer so much.

When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of autumn.

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

The Summer had died peacefully in its sleep, and Autumn, as soft-spoken executrix, was locking life up safely until Spring came to claim it.

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!

But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.

Melancholy is kind of sweet sometimes, I think. It's not a negative thing. It's not a mean thing. It's just something that happens in life, like autumn.

Autumn is a season followed immediately by looking forward to spring.

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.

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

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.

Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.

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.

The end-of-summer winds make people restless.