Fall Season Quotes

“When nature looks so philosophical, you know you're in the autumn!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“I searched among her crayons for a color that represented autumn and pulled out an orange-toned crayon, never used. It read “Bittersweet,” and I wondered why that particular name. Autumn was my favorite time of year… I was always ready for the change. I guess some people didn’t see it that way. Some people wanted to cling to summer... I loved both seasons, but I thought no one would ever call spring bittersweet, even though it was just another change, another new cycle, an end to one season and a beginning for another in an endless, never-ending spiral.”
― Janet Rebhan, Finding Tranquility Base

“Seeing Myself in a Season

Burgundy sweaters
Handwritten letters
If I were a season
I would be Fall

Brown curly hair
playing truth or dare
Adventures and change
Feelings all strange
If I were a season
I would be Fall

Messy notebooks filled with
All of my secrets
Looking out the windows
Like Mother Earth
I'd let out a breath and
The trees would shake

My blood would be an apricot color
I'd hide in the forest
Covered with bright yellow leaves
Branched out above two lovers
Because if I were a season
I would be Fall”
― Alice Tyszka, Finding My Light

“I think the seasons complete me-
for once autumn came
I could fall freely
along with every leave.
I do not have to bloom,
yet, I must die
in every delicate line of October.”
― Laura Chouette

“As the leaves fall and the trees hustle to let go of their summer finery, the sound of autumn is a reminder that sometimes letting go is necessary for growth.”
― Ajaz Ahmad Khawaja

“The hustling sound of the leaves in the autumn wind is a reminder to embrace change and let go of the things that no longer serve us, just like the trees let go of their leaves.”
― Ajaz Ahmad Khawaja

“In the turning of leaves and the hush of shorter days, we find the holy beauty of change”
― AshRawArt

“Like leaves released, we are free to dance in His breeze”
― AshRawArt

“The October air was crisp, brushing across the terrace, swaying the string lights above. The scent of autumn mixed with freshly brewed coffee.
Chapter 44”
― Irina Semikop, Voluntary pain