That September was a month of golden mists and purple hazes.
quotes about September - by women writers.
A love letter to one of my favorite months of the year: September.
Chillier days, sometimes caressed by the rain, sometimes kissed by the sun…the perfect weather combo I would like to have all year round.
Enjoy!
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That September was a month of golden mists and purple hazes [...] a month of sun-steeped days and of nights that were swimming in moonlight or pulsating with stars.
― Anne's House of Dreams by L.M. Montgomery
September, it seems suddenly that the years accelerate and move faster and faster
― Sylvia Plath
This is September, and you were coming September. Come! Our parting is too long. There has been frost enough. We must have summer now, and "whole legions" of daisies. The gentian is a greedy flower, and overtakes us all. Indeed, this world is short, and I wish, until I tremble, to touch the ones I love before the hills are red - are gray - are white - are "born again"! If we knew how deep the crocus lay, we never should let her go. Still, crocuses stud many mounds whose gardeneres till in aguish some tiny, vanished bulb.
― Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Elizabeth Holland written c. September 1859
Five days buried. Sleeping, eating, resting, Insentient. Surfeited with pain. Could read, think, only chaotically.
― Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 2 September 1928
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.
― The Whole Story and Other Stories by Ali Smith
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
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
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.
― Time Enough for Drums by Ann Rinaldi
The first flash of color always excites me as much as the first frail, courageous bloom of spring. This is, in a sense, my season--sometimes warm and, when the wind blows an alert, sometimes cold. But there is a clarity about September. On clear days, the sun seems brighter, the sky more blue, the white clouds take on marvelous shapes; the moon is a wonderful apparition, rising gold, cooling to silver; and the stars are so big. The September storms--the hurricane warnings far away, the sudden gales, the downpour of rain that we have so badly needed here for so long--are exhilarating, and there's a promise that what September starts, October will carry on, catching the torch flung into her hand.
― Evening Star by Faith Baldwin
I imagined that winter was watching, waiting, crouching not far away.
― Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 7 September 1928
I must not die of pity; I must live;
Grow strong, not sicken; eat, digest my food,
That it may build me, and in doing good
To blood and bone, broaden the sensitive
Fastidious pale perception: we contrive
Lean comfort for the starving, who intrude
Upon them with our pots of pity: brewed
From stronger meat must be the broth we give.
Blue, bright September day, with here and there
On the green hills a maple turning red,
And white clouds racing in the windy air! —
If I would help the weak, I must be fed
In wit and purpose, pour away despair
And rinse the cup, eat happiness like bread.
― Sonnet 139 by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Under a moon waning and worn, broken, tired with summer.
― from "September Midnight" by Sara Teasdale
September marched through smearing everything with oil paint: acres of cardamom yellow, burnt orange, miles of sienna, blue ravines both cerulean and midnight, along with heartbreakingly violet skies.
— Paradise by Toni Morrison
Good-night. I will go look at the stars. They are eternal, so is he, so am I.
— Mary Shelley in a letter to Maria Gisborne written c. September 1822
The people marvelled: September is passing and where are the chill, damp days? The murky canal waters turned emerald, the nettles smelled like roses, only stronger. The air was sultry with sunsets, unbearable, devilish, crimson.
— from "Little Song" by Anna Akhmatova
I hope you enjoyed this collection of quotes about September.
Wishing you a wonderful rest of the week,
Nicole.