It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. The rich colours of grass and earth were intensified by the mellow light of a sun almost warm enough for spring… – P.D. James, A Taste for Death

[A]utumn… is mature, reasonable and serious, it glows moderately and not frivolously…. – Valentin

It was a late-October Sunday, the leaves tinged with brown, and the air crisp in a way that made you shiver if you stood still too long. – Joe Kita, “Growing Old and Staying Young,” Wisdom of Our Fathers, 1999

[T]he sun declined, and we both fell into twilight silence. Night, which in autumn seems to fall from the sky at once, it comes so quickly, chilled us, and we rolled ourselves in our cloaks… – Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly, Les Diaboliques