It was autumn, the springtime of death. Rain spattered the rotting leaves, and a wild wind wailed. Death was singing in the shower. Death was happy to be alive.
Tom Robbins, from Still Life with Woodpecker (Bantam Books, 1980)
I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.
John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America
It was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors.
Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex
In the end you can’t always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.
I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.
I believe that treating other people well is a lost art.
I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before. But it’s true – hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don’t love something, then don’t do it.
Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.