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— Rupert Brooke"I shall desire and I shall find The best of my desires; The autumn road, the mellow wind That soothes the darkening shires. And laughter, and inn-fires."
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She smashes her knuckles into winter As autumn's wind fades into black She is the saint of all the sinners, the one whose fallen through the cracks... (iViva la Gloria!)
— Billie Joe Armstrong
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But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.
— Khalil Gibran
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