September Quotes

“But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.”
― Stephen King, ’Salem’s Lot

“[T]hat old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.”
― Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

“We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

“I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.”
― Oliver Herford

“The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.”
― Helen Bevington, When Found, Make a Verse of

“In his or her own way, everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really happy or just looked it, I couldn't tell. But they did look happy on this pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was not truly part of the scene.”
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

“Outside the leaves on the trees constricted slightly; they were the deep done green of the beginning of autumn. It was a Sunday in September. There would only be four. The clouds were high and the swallows would be here for another month or so before they left for the south before they returned again next summer.”
― Ali Smith, The Whole Story and Other Stories

“The summer ended. Day by day, and taking its time, the summer ended. The noises in the street began to change, diminish, voices became fewer, the music sparse. Daily, blocks and blocks of children were spirited away. Grownups retreated from the streets, into the houses. Adolescents moved from the sidewalk to the stoop to the hallway to the stairs, and rooftops were abandoned. Such trees as there were allowed their leaves to fall - they fell unnoticed - seeming to promise, not without bitterness, to endure another year. At night, from a distance, the parks and playgrounds seemed inhabited by fireflies, and the night came sooner, inched in closer, fell with a greater weight. The sound of the alarm clock conquered the sound of the tambourine, the houses put on their winter faces. The houses stared down a bitter landscape, seeming, not without bitterness, to have resolved to endure another year.”
― James Baldwin, Just Above My Head

“The last dying days of summer, fall coming on fast. A cold night, the first of the season, a change from the usual bland Maryland climate. Cold, thought the boy; his mind felt numb. The trees he could see through his bedroom window were tall charcoal sticks, shivering, afraid of the wind or only trying to stand against it. Every tree was alone out there. The animals were alone, each in its hole, in its thin fur, and anything that got hit on the road tonight would die alone. Before morning, he thought, its blood would freeze in the cracks of the asphalt.”
― Poppy Z. Brite

“Summer has no day,' she said. 'We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...it has no day.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

“September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn.”
― Rowland E. Robinson

“Why should I care about you first kiss,' he said. 'You can kiss anyone you like. But sometimes if you wanted to kiss me, that would be all right, too.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There

“Autumn is a poem - while you fall for everything, you remember that there is something worth dying for.”
― Laura Chouette

“Yeah – Sure I remember
Matter of fact it was just last September
She still calls it the fall to remember
Little Heather when it all came together
You remember the first time you met her?
She cried when it rained and blamed the weather
But inside she strained with suicide letters
The kind of cold you couldn’t warm with a sweater
Hardly lasted past December
She said she was headed down to defeat
That’s the last you’d seen and never had dreamed
That the same little Heather – It’s who you saw last week
In an instant you couldn’t have missed her gleam
As she listened she looked like a distant queen
With a difference, there for all to see
She found a different – A different kind of free”
― ZOEgirl, ZOEgirl: Different Kind of Free: Piano/Vocal/Guitar

“High up on Monte Salvatore the window of some shepherd's hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung their heads and dreamed under the still September clouds, and the water plashed and murmured softly among the pebbles of the shore.”
― E.L. Voynich

“As the alluring song of September begins to whisper in my ear, my passionate spirit yearns for the splendor of its promise.”
― Peggy Toney Horton

“Berapa harga sebuah Januari? Aku ingin memiliki Januari yang basah. Bulan yang menghapus gerah-gerah. Tapi Januari atau September bukan cincin yang dipajang dietalase toko, yang bisa kita beli kalau uang cukup dan kita jual atau kita tukar bila tidak suka. September adalah utusan Tuhan untuk menemani manusia yang memanggil dosa-dosa di pundaknya.”
― M. Aan Mansyur, Kukila

“It must be September,
July sun has disappeared”
― Charmaine J. Forde

“There comes a day each September when you wake up and know the summer is over and fall has arrived. The slant of the sun looks different and something is in the air--a coolness, a hint of frosty mornings to follow. I woke early on the morning of September 24 and reached for a warmer petticoat.”
― Ann Rinaldi, Time Enough for Drums

“Responsibility sucked rocks. Until a few months ago, I hadn’t been responsible for anything more than color-coordinating my wardrobe. But foil one vampire vixen bent on world domination and suddenly people expect all kinds of things. Some days it just didn’t pay to wake up dead. (teaser from ReVamped, coming September 1st)”
― Lucienne Diver

“September’s Baccalaureate
A combination is
Of Crickets — Crows — and Retrospects
And a dissembling Breeze

That hints without assuming —
An Innuendo sear
That makes the Heart put up its Fun
And turn Philosopher.”
― Emily Dickinson

“Autumn is the place to be - once you fell for everything yet know that there is something worth dying for.”
― Laura Chouette

“New adventures, new memories. New knowledge, every fall. But seeing you again, was the best of them all.”
― B.K. Sweeting

“FALLING FOR AUTUMN

That time of the year,
When September welcomes October,
They fall for each other,
And then they show their true colors.”
― Charmaine J. Forde

“Sweet September Blessings!
I am eternally grateful!!!”
― Charmaine J. Forde

“August was smoking hot, then September walked in as cool as a cucumber, and made her presence felt.”
― Charmaine J Forde

“I farm ducks like September swims in August. But that’s natural, because it’s too cold to go swimming in October. Buy eleven eggs, get the twelfth FREE.”
― Jarod Kintz, BearPaw Duck And Meme Farm presents: Two Ducks Brawling Is A Pre-Pillow Fight

“September
the golden threshold
between summer and winter”
― Meeta Ahluwalia

“Auld Reekie's sons blyth faces wear,
September's merry month is near,
That brings in Neptune's caller chere,
New oysters fresh;
The halesomest and nicest gear
Of fish or flesh.

Whan big as burns the gutters rin,
Gin ye hae catcht a drookit skin,
To Luckie Middlemist's loup in,
And sit fair snug
O'er oysters and a dram o' gin,
Or haddock lug.”
― Robert Fergusson, Poems of Fergusson

“It was September. Autumn only in advertisements. Cartoon orange leaves and red backpacks lining the signs for back to school sales. The warmth whittling down, but still keeping us in short sleeves.”
― Kyle Lucia Wu, Win Me Something