I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

But great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood.

If I can do one hundredth part for the Indian that Mrs. Stowe did for the Negro, I will be thankful.

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.

O month when they who love must love and wed.

Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.

As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote faster than I would write a letter - two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.

Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.

Love has a tide!

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget.

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.

I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.

If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.

The goldenrod is yellow The corn is turning brown The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.

Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.

Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.

I came back out here from England and I was there for a while and it was beautiful and it is just great to see London going from Spring to Summer and Autumn.

We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it. Yet our opinions have no permanence; like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away.

In spring they lie flat at the first warmth, they ruin my summer and in autumn they smell of women.

It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.

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?

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.

My Department has already recognised this and has been working specifically on the technical support issue since January and will offer advice to schools during the Autumn term.

As early as the autumn of 1862, I was made very happy by being sent to school.

Autumn's the mellow time.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

The sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.

And getting married this autumn was certainly an additional incentive to spend rather more time in England.

My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

Cheyenne Autumn was received not too successfully. I still think it was a very good movie. It was kinda Ford's apology for the way he had treated Indians in his past pictures.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

I put quite a few trees in last autumn. A lot of silver birch and a couple of native trees - just generally doing gardening, putting plants in and hedges in. It takes quite a lot of time and I love it.

In California in the early Spring, There are pale yellow mornings, when the mist burns slowly into day, The air stings like Autumn, clarifies like pain - Well, I have dreamed this coast myself.

But I do feel a little teeny right now that I'm just about ready to start, and winter is entering. Half past autumn has arrived.

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.