Even though I knew this might end in heartbreak, that he might make my life scary and complicated and unpredictable, I knew I couldn't let him walk away. Because I knew he'd also make my life happy and comforting and full.
HabĂa algo muy satisfactorio en una sonrisa que debĂa ser ganada
With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. [...] Part of you died each year when leaves fell from the tress and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.
I dream of the summers we kissed, winters we missed, spring that blossomed, withering of the autumn, with hope in my heart, I dream of getting you back.
Time remorselessly rambles down the corridors and streets of our lives. but it is not until autumn that most of us become aware that our tickets are stamped with a terminal destination.
Only what slips through one's fingers, only what is never expressed in words, has no thoughts, exists completely. That is the price of proximity: you don't see it. Don't know that it's there. Then it is over, then you see it.
Even those fallen leaves dance, on the musical wind cadence.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
There's something about FALL that makes me feel alive... that life somehow starts on that Indian summer, when leaves dance to kiss the ground, filling the earth with stars and the rustling of leaves beckons me to wander and get lost in its beauty.
Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay.
The sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.
No man can taste the fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of spring.
I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.