Seasonal Shift Quotes

Autumn arrives in the early morning.

Summer makes a silence after spring.

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

There comes a point in every season for every team that you start to separate yourself, and you see the league do that every year.

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

Summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf.

When the seasons shift, even the subtle beginning, the scent of a promised change, I feel something stir inside me. Hopefulness? Gratitude? Openness? Whatever it is, it's welcome.

When autumn comes, it doesn't ask. It just walks in, where it left you last. And you never know, when it starts; until there's fog inside the glass around your summer heart.

The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August

Don't you like when the winter's gone, And all of a sudden it starts gettin' warm? The trees and the grass start lookin' fresh, And the sun and sky be lookin' their best.

The course of the seasons is a piece of clockwork, with a cuckoo to call when it is spring.

Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

It is the thirtieth of May, the thirtieth of November, a beginning or an end, we are moving into the solstice and there is so much here I still do not understand.

For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe Folowen ful ofte a myrie someris day.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.

Spring came late, but when it came it was hand-in-hand with summer, and almost at once everything was baking and warm, and in the villages the people danced every night on concrete dancing floors under the plane trees.

And so the seasons went rolling on into summer, as one rambles into higher and higher grass.

Other seasons come abruptly but ask so little when they do. Winter is the only one that has to be relearned.

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.

Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.

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.