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"I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod."
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"If Spring came but once in a century, instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake, and not in silence, what wonder and expectation there would be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change! But now the silent succession suggests nothing but necessity. To most men only the cessation of the miracle would be miraculous and the perpetual exercise of God's power seems less wonderful than its withdrawal would be."

"And they left the mellow light of the dandelion wine and went upstairs to carry out the last few rituals of summer, for they felt that now the final day, the final night had come. As the day grew late they realized that for two or three nights now, porches had emptied early of their inhabitants. The air hard a different, drier smell and Grandma was talking of hot coffee instead of iced tea; the open, white-flutter-curtained windows were closing in the great bays; cold cuts were giving way to steamed beef. The mosquitos were gone from the porch, and surely when they abandoned the conflict the war with Time was really done, there was nothing for it but that humans also forsake the battleground."

"Winter makes a bridge between one year and another and, in this case, one century and the next."

"Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth. It has no day."

"Nevertheless during these two seasons, Chapman impressed me a lot because he had the faculty to pull himself out of the most critical situations."

"Spring beckons! All things to the call respond; the trees are leaving and cashiers abscond."

"I came from Mechanicsville, Virginia, where you have four seasons."

"Autumn is leaving its mellowness behind for its spiky, rotted stage. Don't remember summer even saying goodbye."

"When it is summer, enjoy it, but you must also prepare for winter."
Explore more quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson

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

"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."

"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."

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

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