September Quotes

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

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

September: it was the most beautiful of words, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.

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.

Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.

And the sun took a step back, the leaves lulled themselves to sleep, and Autumn was awakened.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house.

Autumn... the year's last, loveliest smile.

Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

The tints of autumn... a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

There is something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.

It was a lovely afternoon—such an afternoon as only September can produce when summer has stolen back for one more day of dream and glamour.

The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools.

The quiet sound of leaves falling in autumn is the lullaby of the Earth.

Autumn, the season that teaches us that change can be beautiful.

Autumn is the season to find contentment at home by paying attention to what we already have.

Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go.

Autumn carries more than just golden leaves; it carries the joyful scent of life.

September is the month that fulfills summer's promise and brings autumn's rich harvest.

Autumn is a dance of contrasts – vibrant and mellow, busy and peaceful, abundant and reflective.

In autumn, nature shows us how beautiful it is to let things go.

The magic of autumn comes alive when the leaves dance in the wind.

Autumn paints in colors that summer has never seen.

September is the month of renewal, a new chapter, and a fresh start.

The leaves are changing; I feel poetry in the air.

Autumn's melody is like a symphony of rustling leaves and soothing breezes.

Autumn carries grace in its heart, and paints beauty in every corner.

September's song is the whisper of the falling leaves.

Autumn is a symphony of serenity, and the rustle of leaves is its lullaby.

The crisp air of September is a reminder to embrace change like the trees embrace new colors.

Autumn is the artist; the leaves are its masterpiece.

September: the bridge between summer's end and autumn's beginning.

Autumn teaches us how beautiful it is to let things go.

The magic of autumn lies in the beauty of transformation.

Autumn's embrace is the promise of renewal after the stillness of summer.

September is the month to take a step back and admire the rich palette of nature.

September: the gateway to the golden season.

Autumn, the season of cozy sweaters and warm beverages.

September is the pause between the harmony of summer and the symphony of autumn.

Autumn carries the whisper of winter, but it also carries the promise of spring.

September, where the shadows grow longer and the nights become a symphony of stars.

In September, the world softens its edges and lets you see its true colors.

Autumn is the canvas, and the falling leaves are the strokes of nature's paintbrush.

September's breeze whispers secrets of change to the trees.

Autumn is the time when nature takes a deep breath before exhaling winter.

September's song is the melody of transformation.

Autumn is a second spring when leaves turn into flowers.

September: the month that holds a perfect sunset in each of its evenings.

Autumn is the season that teaches us that letting go can be beautiful.

September is the bridge between the long days of summer and the crisp days of fall.

Autumn is like a symphony where every leaf is a note, and the earth is the grand conductor.

September is a love letter written to the earth.

Autumn's beauty is a reminder that even things that fade can hold incredible grace.

September is the month when life slowly retreats, allowing the world to prepare for its grand encore in spring.

Autumn is a dance of colors as nature embraces change.

September: a month of mellow mornings and golden afternoons.

Autumn carries the nostalgia of summer's warmth and the anticipation of winter's embrace.

September brings the promise of new beginnings, like a blank page waiting to be written.

Autumn is a symphony of colors, each leaf a note that composes a breathtaking melody.

September's beauty lies in its ability to remind us that transitions can be both gentle and profound.

Autumn is the season that reminds us to slow down and appreciate the simple moments.

In September, the earth releases its treasures in a cascade of falling leaves.

Autumn's palette is made of dreams – the dreams of leaves as they turn into brilliant works of art.

September invites us to witness the poetry of change as leaves surrender to gravity's gentle pull.

Autumn is the time when the earth turns its pages of life, revealing chapters of transformation.

In September, the world whispers secrets of transformation to those who listen.

Autumn is a season of gratitude, where the earth offers its bountiful harvest as a gift to all.

September's winds carry the stories of summer's adventures and autumn's promises.

Autumn is a season of contrasts – the warmth of a cozy sweater against the crispness of the air.

In September, the sun kisses the earth with a gentler touch, as if bidding a fond farewell.

Autumn's beauty lies not just in its vibrant colors, but also in the quiet moments between the leaves' fall.

September paints the landscape with the colors of change, reminding us that transformation is a natural rhythm.

Autumn's rhythm is like a slow, graceful dance where leaves let go and drift to the ground.

In September, nature's artistry is on full display, capturing our hearts with its vibrant hues.

Autumn is a season of harvest, of gathering the fruits of a year's growth.

In September, the earth is kissed by the gentle sun, creating a tapestry of colors that soothes the soul.

Autumn is a dance of transformation, where leaves let go of the familiar branches and embrace the wind's embrace.

September's beauty is in its subtle shifts, as the world prepares for its quiet transition into a new chapter.

Autumn's arrival is like a whispered promise that change can be beautiful, even in letting go.

In September, the sun lowers its head, casting long shadows that weave stories of fading warmth.

Autumn is a master artist, painting the world with shades of gold, orange, and red.

September's breeze is like a gentle sigh, carrying the secrets of summer and the whispers of fall.

Autumn is a season of reflection, where the mirrored waters and falling leaves remind us of life's impermanence.

In September, the days begin to cool, inviting us to cozy up and savor life's simple pleasures.

Autumn teaches us that change is a constant companion, and beauty can be found in every transition.

September is a bridge between the warmth of summer and the cool embrace of autumn's arrival.

Autumn's colors are the earth's poetry, written in leaves and shared with the wind's gentle touch.

In September, the world dons its coat of many colors, embracing the changing rhythm of the seasons.

September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn.

The old summer's-end melancholy nips at my heels. There's no school to go back to; no detail of my life will change come the onset of September; yet still, I feel the old trepidation.

There is a time in late September when the leaves are still green, and the days are still warm, but somehow you know that it is all about to end, as if summer was holding its breath, and when it let it out again, it would be autumn.

How smartly September comes in, like a racing gig, all style, no confusion.

September is the month of maturity; the heaped basket and the garnered sheaf. It is the month of climax and completion. September! I never tire of turning it over and over in my mind. It has warmth, depth and color. It glows like old amber.

Outside the leaves on the trees constricted slightly; they were the deep done green of the beginning of autumn. It was a Sunday in September.

Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul...but I must confess that I love you only because you are a prelude to my beloved October.

The windows are open, admitting the September breeze: a month that smells like notepaper and pencil shavings, autumn leaves and car oil. A month that smells like progress, like moving on.

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.

And then the sun took a step back, the leaves lulled themselves to sleep, and autumn awakened.

In many ways, September feels like the busiest time of the year: The kids go back to school, work piles up after the summer’s dog days, and Thanksgiving is suddenly upon us.

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed.

It must be September, July sun has disappeared

Come September, children return to school, grownups to work, and the brain to the head.

Happily we bask in this warm September sun, which illuminates all creatures.

…there is a clarity about September. On clear days, the sun seems brighter, the sky more blue, the white clouds take on marvelous shapes; the moon is a wonderful apparition, rising gold, cooling to silver; and the stars are so big. The September storms…are exhilarating…

The September storms—the hurricane warnings far away, the sudden gales, the downpour of rain that we have so badly needed here for so long—are exhilarating, and there's a promise that what September starts, October will carry on, catching the torch flung into her hand.

Tonight I miss you like the sky misses his moon; a delicate epiphany growing on grass. I serenade the breeze into dancing a cha cha cha; the mountains echo in the background. September sky never looked more charming; or the sublime petals of the rose looked so graceful.

Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air —moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh—felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing.

I guess I'm just feeling all September-ish...All the trees change color, the days get very clear—with little smoke on the horizon from burning leaves. Pumpkins begin to come out.

September is dressing herself in showy dahlias and splendid marigolds and starry zinnias.

I used to love September, but now it just rhymes with remember.

Autumn is the antidote to stifling summer.

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.

September tries its best to have us forget summer.

Wine is the divine juice of September.

All the months are crude experiments, out of which the perfect September is made.

It was September, and there was a crackly feeling to the air.

September showed up right on schedule, and lasted a whole month.

Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul.

September is the other January.

I love September, especially when we're in it.

Let's strive to be better in September!

But the days grow short when you reach September.

Let’s all be nice to September.

O sweet September, thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter, The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And promise of exceeding joy hereafter.

September has come, it is hers Whose vitality leaps in the autumn, Whose nature prefers Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.

September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets – Crows – and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming – An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.

Nostalgia—that's the Autumn, Dreaming through September Just a million lovely things I always will remember.

On a certain day in the blue-moon month of September Beneath a young plum tree, quietly I held her there, my quiet, pale beloved In my arms just like a graceful dream.