Harvest Time Quotes

Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.

My favourite season is autumn, and I love walking through woods.

It will not always be summer; build barns.

Unlike the fast-paced world of racing, there is nothing rushed about growing grapes. They take their time lazily basking in the summer sun, and come fall, as I watch them impatiently, waiting for that perfect balance needed to harvest, I swear they call out to me, 'What's the hurry?'

The hard work of sowing seed in what looks like perfectly empty earth has a time of harvest. All suffering, pain, emptiness, disappointment is seed: sow it in God and He will, finally, bring a crop of joy from it.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.

I'm an October baby, yes.

Depending on when vegetables are picked, they might take different lengths of time to cook.

November is auspicious in so many parts of the country: the rice harvest is already in, the weather starts to cool, and the festive glow which precedes Christmas has began to brighten the landscape.

Of faire things, the Autumne is faire.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.

Lord, it is time. The summer was very big. Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose. Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them on to fulfillment and drive the last sweetiness into the heavenly wine.

What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.

But like of each thing that in season grows.

My Grandmother standing wordless fifteen minutes Between rows of loganberries, clippers poised in her hand.

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?

Autumn's the mellow time.

In season, all is good.

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

In the old days of America when communities were separated by hundreds of miles, why were they able to thrive? Because if it was harvest time and the farmer was up in the tree picking apples and fell down and broke his leg, everybody pitched in and harvested his crops for him. If somebody got killed by a bear, everybody took care of their family.

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

Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.