Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
This dark brightness that falls from the stars.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again.
The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain.
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
If you look around, complacency is the great disease of your autumn years, and I work hard to prevent that.
There's always something going on, but thank goodness these days it's with a clear head, which helps me massively.
A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.