It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Autumn's the mellow time.
Long afterward, many would remember those two days in the first week of October with vividness and anguish.
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.
An English summer's day is wonderful, but sometimes you have to look hard to find one!
A strangely reflective, even melancholy day. Is that because, unlike our cousins in the northern hemisphere, Easter is not associated with the energy and vitality of spring but with the more subdued spirit of autumn?
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
It was a somber place, haunted by old jokes and lost laughter. Life, as I discovered, holds no more wretched occupation than trying to make the English laugh.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
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.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.