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#john autumn
wintercorrybriea · 6 days
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mask by john autumn
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john-noe · 19 days
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the mirror of the soul
By John Noe
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enchantedbook · 2 months
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Autumn Leaves by John Everett Millais, 1856
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sapphicseance · 13 days
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john galliano autumn/winter 2009
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peaceinthestorm · 2 months
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William John Hennessy (1839-1917, Irish) ~ Woman in an Autumn Landscape, 1868
[Source: artvee.com]
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thebluesthour · 2 months
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Truly a sumptuous autumn day, all Byzantine coppers and golds under a Tiepolo sky of enamelled blue, the countryside all fixed and glassy, seeming not so much itself as its own reflection in the still surface of a lake.
John Banville, The Sea
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apoemaday · 2 months
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To Autumn
by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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saintlopezlov3r · 2 months
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Dead Poets Society
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Mood board
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soracities · 1 year
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John Banville, The Sea
[Text ID: “What a little vessel of sadness we are, sailing in this muffled silence through the autumn dark.”]
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thunderstruck9 · 5 months
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John Atkinson Grimshaw (British, 1836-1893), In the Golden Glow of Autumn, 1884. Oil on canvas, 20 x 30 in.
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mahrn · 2 months
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"We'll have a cow," said George. "An' we'll have maybe a pig an' chickens… an' down the flat we'll have a... little piece alfalfa- " "For the rabbits," Lennie shouted. "For the rabbits," George repeated. "And I get to tend the rabbits." "An' you get to tend the rabbits."
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tygerland · 3 months
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Autumn Leaves (1856) by John Everett Millais
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john-noe · 1 month
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under the trees
By John Noe
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knitepercival · 2 months
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🍂Happy First Day of Autumn! 🍂
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horror-lesbians · 3 months
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The jolly woodsman, over the garden wall (2014)//Hamlet illustrated by John Austen, 1922
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oldshrewsburyian · 2 months
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Any suggestions for books that have a cozy fall feel to them? I'm trying to read my way to cooler weather :P
I sympathize with this endeavor! I have a double confession to make, though. 1) I am never sure what people on Tumblr mean when they say "cozy." 2) Even though I am fairly certain what "cozy" means when applied to subgenres of light fiction, this is not what I seek when I turn to seasonal fall reading. What I am usually looking for in autumnal fiction is some combination of:
death and decay are inevitable; they can also be beautiful
autumn is a time simultaneously of hope and of reckoning with that hope's disappointment
the academic calendar and academic communities (see also above, tbh)
With, um, all that in mind... some recommendations.
Gaudy Night, Dorothy L. Sayers. "Let us go now, and have the truth at all hazards" and also "epic actions are all fought by the rearguard" and "if it ever occurs to people to value the honor of the mind equally with the honor of the body, we shall get a social revolution of a quite unparalleled sort."
Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh (for its gorgeous descriptions of all seasons, and also everything else)
Embers, Sándor Márai (the end of a life and the end of an empire... but maybe not the end of love)
On the Edge of Reason, Miroslav Krleža (I'm pretty sure this opens in September; it is beautiful and poignant and savage)
Lolly Willowes, Sylvia Townsend Warner (this actually might come quite close to what you are looking for; this is a lovely and tender and melancholy and hopeful book)
A Small Town in Germany, John Le Carré (small town, large stakes, and Le Carré's customary insight and humor)
Radetzkymarsch, Joseph Roth (this is another end-of-empire one)
Georgics and Eclogues, Virgil (his birthday is in October! lots of lovely harvest poetry and also poetry about destructive love.)
Summer in the Country, Edith Templeton (summer must end, empire must end, deceptions... may or may not)
The Last September, Elizabeth Bowen (the last because in the autumn of 1920, in County Cork, old certainties and old loyalties are about to go up in flames.)
The Salzburg Connection, Helen MacInnes (not only is this that too-rare thing, an espionage novel written by a woman, but the thing I remember best about it is the male protagonist's quotation of/meditation on Rilke's "Herbsttag.")
The Dig, John Preston (this takes place, of course, over a summer, from May to September. But this is 1939, so September is always, always on the horizon. I did not particularly like the beautiful film as an adaptation, but I want a motivational poster of Ralph Fiennes saying "We all fail! every day!")
I hope that at least some of these may be interesting! I also always think Ellis Peters does a lovely job of evoking seasons in her Cadfael novels, and you could do worse than going through and reading the autumnal ones.
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