“The rooms were very still while the pages were softly turned and the winter sunshine crept in to touch the bright heads and serious faces with a Christmas greeting.”
~ Louisa May Alcott (b. November 29, 1832 – d. March 6, 1888), Little Women
“They came on one of April’s most brilliant days – a day as sparkling as a newly-washed lemon…a day when even the shadows were a melange of blue and orange and jade, like the shadows that poured from the tipsy brush of Monet.”
~ Beverley Nichols, British author (b. 9 September 1898 – d. 15 September 1983)
“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
‘Winter is dead.’”
~ A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young
“Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember but the story.”
~ Tim O’Brien (b. October 1, 1946), The Things They Carried
“It was November—the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.”
~ L.M. Montgomery (b. November 30, 1874 – d. April 24, 1942)
“To say it was a beautiful day would not begin to explain it. It was that day when the end of summer intersects perfectly with the start of fall.”
~ Ann Patchett (b. December 2, 1963)
“This morning, the sun endures past dawn. I realise that it is August—the summer’s last stand.”
~ Sara Baume (b. 1984)
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