Fall Foliage Quotes & Sayings

We should wait six-seven months. Maybe, upon spring's arrival, our love would blossom. As of now, dry-lifeless-forlorn, it resembles the fall foliage. Beautiful, nonetheless!
#BeyondAutumn — Saru Singhal

What voices overheard, flinders of luminescent gods glimpsed among the wallpaper's stained foliage, candlestubs lit to rotate in the air over him, prefiguring the cigarette he or a friend must fall asleep someday smoking, thus to end among the flaming, secret salts held all those years by the insatiable stuffing of a mattress that could keep vestiges of every nightmare sweat, helpless overflowing bladder,viciously,tearfully consummated wet dream, like the memory bank to a computer of the lost? — Thomas Pynchon

The torchlit garden was redolent with the colors and scents of autumn... gold and copper foliage, thick borders of roses and dahlias, flowering grasses and beds of fresh mulch that made the air pleasantly pungent. — Lisa Kleypas

Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious. — Sylvia Plath

She felt strong and blissfully empty gliding through the crisp November air, enjoying the intermittent warmth of the sun as it filtered down through the overhanging trees, which were mostly stripped of their foliage. It was that trashy, post-Halloween part of the fall, yellow and orange leaves littering the ground — Tom Perrotta

Below her, fall was just starting to work its magic on the foliage, creating a blaze of rust and amber stretching into the foothills and up the mountains. It was her favorite time of the year and normally she loved this view. Today, it only reminded her of how much she had to lose. — Kate Fargo

What a contrast between the stern and desolate poetry of Ossian, and that of Chaucer, and even of Shakespeare and Milton, much more of Dryden, and Pope, and Gray! Our summer of English poetry, like the Greek and Latin before it, seems well advanced towards its fall, and laden with the fruit and foliage of the season, with bright autumnal tints, but soon the winter will scatter its myriad clustering and shading leaves, and leave only a few desolate and fibrous boughs to sustain the snow and rime, and creak in the blasts of age. — Henry David Thoreau

She kept silent for fifty miles as he looked out his window at the last gasps of fall in the distant hills - pretty red and yellow swaths of foliage surrounded by sad patches of gray, like an unfinished oil painting. — Drew Magary

The eyes closed. Cammed each night out of that safe furrow the bulk of this city's waking each sunrise again set virtuously to plowing, what rich soils had he turned, what concentric planets uncovered? What voices overheard, flinders of luminescent gods glimpsed among the wallpaper's stained foliage, candlestubs lit to rotate in the air over him, prefiguring the cigarette he or a friend must fall asleep someday smoking, thus to end among the flaming, secret salts held all those years by the insatiable stuffing of a mattress that could keep vestiges of every nightmare sweat, helpless overflowing bladder, viciously, tearfully consummated wet dream, like the memory bank to a computer of the lost? She was overcome all at once by a need to touch him, as if she could not believe in him, or would not remember him, without it. — Thomas Pynchon

You fall into thought while staring at the green foliage back here - so much damn green that it envelops you in its cruddy fist - and the thoughts aren't too good, either - thoughts of sitting on the toilet - eating a sandwich - standing in line at a grocery store - watching an episode of Cheaters - doing laundry - staring at your face in a mirror - shaving it - snorting crushed pills - falling in love - death - all death - and the green shrubbery carries you away with it. — Brian Alan Ellis

The islands above the falls are covered with foliage as beautiful as can be seen anywhere. Viewed from the mass of rock which overhangs the fall, the scenery was the loveliest I had seen. — David Livingstone

God is wild; I am tame ... Night falls and an age ends ... We call and are answered through the thick foliage, by voices too strange to be our own ... — Whitley Strieber