But then to part! to part when Time Has wreathed his tireless wing with flowers, And spread the richness of a clime Of fairy o'er this land of ours; When glistening leaves and shaded streams In the soft light of Autumn lay, And, like the music of our dreams, The viewless breezes seemed to stray- 'T was bitter then to rend the heart With the sad thought that we must part; And, like some low and mournful spell, To whisper but one word-farewell!
Park Benjamin, Sr.Related topics
autumn bitter clime glistening heart land lay leaves light low music sad soft spell spread thought wingRelated quotes
We catched fish, and talked, and we took a swim now and then to keep off sleepiness. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big still river, laying on our backs looking up at the stars, and we didn't ever feel like talking loud, and it warn't often that we laughed, only a kind of low chuckle. We had mighty good weather, as a general thing, and nothing ever happened to us at all, that night, nor the next, nor the next.
Mark Twain
/p>He did a forty-two minute
cosmic rise in future shocks
Star Spangled Banner
in the back of CBGB's He stopped every clock in New York state
and every heart that heard him
and time itself was beaten and confused
and fell lamb-like under the spell of his
fabulous flashing fingers He played an encore at the Bitter End
a heartburst Little Wing
even the waiters cried
and then we fell outside
and in the dusty dawn of Bleeker street
a sweet rain fell
and Jimi died.
Mike Scott (musician)
To paint an autumn landscape I will not try to remember what colors suit this season, I will only be inspired by the sensation that the season gives me; the icy clearness of the sour blue sky will express the season just as well as the tonalities of the leaves. My sensation itself may vary, the autumn may be soft and warm like a protracted summer or quite cool with a cold sky and lemon yellow trees that give a chilly impression and announce winter.
Henri Matisse
I Have often thought if the minds of men were laid open, we should see but little difference between that of the wise man and that of the fool. There are infinite reveries, numberless extravagances, and a perpetual train of vanities which pass through both. The great difference is, that the first knows how to pick and cull his thoughts for conversation, by suppressing some, and communicating others; whereas the other lets them all indifferently fly out in words.
Joseph Addison
How sad, ye gods, how sad the world is at evening, how mysterious the mists over the swamps. You will know it when you have suffered greatly before dying, when you have walked through the world carrying an unbearable burden. You know it too when you are weary and ready to leave this earth without regret; it's mists, it's swamps and it's rivers; ready to give yourself into the arms of death with a light heart, knowing that death alone can comfort you.
Mikhail Bulgakov