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  • Fresh October brings the pheasant, / Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

    • Sara Coleridge,
    • "The Months," Pretty Lessons in Verse for Good Children ()
  • O suns and skies and clouds of June, / And flowers of June together, / Ye cannot rival for one hour / October's bright blue weather ... Love loveth best of all the year / October's bright blue weather.

  • What of October, that ambiguous month, the month of tension, the unendurable month?

  • The October breeze catches the cold wet sheets you are hanging on the line. Leaves fall, and trees keep up a gentle undulating dance of branches, like old people nodding their heads in resignation as the children leave home.

  • October is a symphony of permanence and change, of one rich mood played off against another, of silence played off against earth's flutes and trumpets and violins.

    • Bonaro Overstreet,
    • "Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness," in Jean Beaven Abernethy, Meditations for Women ()
  • The forest's afire! / The forest's afire! / The maple is burning, / The sycamore's turning / The beech is alight!

  • October was always the least dependable of months ... full of ghosts and shadows.

  • Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.

  • October arrives in a swirl of fragrant blue leaf smoke, the sweetness of slightly frosted MacIntosh apples, and little hard acorns falling. We are in the midst of cool crisp days, purple mists, and Nature recklessly tossing her whole palette of dazzling tones through fields and woodlands.

  • As golden, as mature, as voluptuous as a Roman matron fresh from the bath, the October morning swept with indolent dignity across the land.

  • The fields are harvested and bare, / And Winter whistles through the square. / October dresses in flame and gold / Like a woman afraid of growing old.

    • Anne Mary Lawler,
    • "October," in George William Douglas, ed., The American Book of Days ()