Cecil Day-Lewis

The river this November afternoon rests in an equipoise of sun and cloud. A glooming light, a gleaming darkness shroud. Its passage, all seems tranquil, all in tune. In June, we picked the clover. And seashells in July. There was no silence at the door, no word from the sky.

Terri Guillemets

Terri Guillemets: Phoenix, Arizone, USA American writer and poet. quotegarden.com The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination. The quiet of October is refreshing. The quiet of November, oppressing. October—the true heart of autumn—the perfect blend of daydream and reality, with amazing weather, a beautiful quiet, and… Lees verder Terri Guillemets

Rick Bass

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August. But here it is, July, and my life this year is July inside of July.