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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of waili

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit – William Cullen Bryant

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April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. – TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

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The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other. – Arthur Rubinstein

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The sun shines different ways in winter and summer. We shine different ways in the seasons of our lives. – Terri Guillemets

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