Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
The year hastens to its close. What is it to me? That I am twenty-five or fifty-eight is as nothing. Should I mourn that the spring flowers are gone, that the summer fruit has ripened, that the harvest is reaped, that the snow has fallen?
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.