Autumn wins you best by this, its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay

I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colors are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and it is content.

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

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.

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

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.