It is comforting when one has a sorrow to lie in the warmth of one's bed and there, abandoning all effort and all resistance, to bury even one's head under the cover, giving one's self up to it completely, moaning like branches in the autumn wind. But there is still a better bed, full of divine odors. It is our sweet, our profound, our impenetrable friendship.
~Marcel Proust
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay
~Robert Browning
A lonely man is a lonesome thing, a stone, a bone, a stick, a receptacle for Gilbey's gin, a stooped figure sitting at the edge of a hotel bed, heaving copious sighs like the autumn wind
~John Cheever
Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn
~Umberto Eco
The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.
~William Shakespeare
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