"Summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf."

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Of Nature itself upon the soul; the sunrise, the haze of autumn, the winter starlight seem interlocutors; the prevailing sense is that of an exposition in poetry; a high discourse, the voice of the speaker seems to breathe as much from the landscape as from his own breast; it is Nature communing with the seer.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson