How quietly the year has passed away
Into that nothingness from whence it came,
And now the slowly drifting days are gray
Like powdered ashes near a dying flame;
The maple trees bewail their fallen crown
And autumn trails away like smoke at dawn—
The grass has faded to a dusty brown,
And I am lonely for a summer gone.

Louis L’Amour, Lines To A Season, Smoke From This Altar

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When I first moved to the village of Warren, I was asked to judge the Christmas decorations on the houses.  After touring miles of roads lined with houses decorated by plastic Santas that flashed on and off, and even one neon-lighted Virgin Mary, we came upon a place that truly breathed the spirit of the first Nöel.  It was a long, dimly lit structure, completely void of cheap ornaments, nestling into a snowy hillside with an almost holy dignity.  “That’s it!” I said. “First prize!”

“My lands,” said my guide, “that isn’t anyone’s home—that’s just an old chicken house.”

Eric Sloane, A Reverence for Wood

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My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!

Edna St. Vincent Millay, “First Fig”,
A Few Figs From Thistles
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I’d like to call back summertime
Have her stay for just another month or so

But she’s got the urge for going
So I guess she’ll have to go…

Joni Mitchell,  Urge for Going

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KELLING (participial vb.)
A person searching for something, who has reached the futile stage of re-looking in all the places they have looked once already, is said to be kelling.

Douglas Adams and John Lloyd, The Meaning of Liff

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Not a quote as such…

My reading time has been a bit short this week.  How short, you ask?

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We are so used to having a lot of comfort in our lives—to being clean, warm, and well fed—that we forget how recent most of that is.  In fact, achieving these things took forever, and then they mostly came in a rush.

Bill Bryson, At Home: A Short History of Private Life

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Then I thought: What if there actually was an Idea Monster that stole good ideas? It would sit blocking the road, and kidnap all the fresh, original ideas that came rolling along. It would let through only the stale, tired old clichés.

James Gurney, “The Idea Monster”
(Blog post, November 6, 2011)

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The antiquarian might argue that his interest in antiques is an appreciation of historic atmosphere, a love of the beauty of pleasing decay.  More often, however, his interest in antique art boils down to a reverence for the individuality of the past, what man once stood for, the way he lived and the thoughts he thought.

Eric Sloane, A Reverence for Wood

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Unpredictable and unrepentant, Halloween also remains stubbornly unofficial and underground, and this may be the key to understanding the tumult that regularly erupts in its name.  Despite the considerable cultural space Halloween now occupies, despite the billions of dollars it annually spins, and despite the passionate commitment millions devote to the holiday, no legislative body has ever seriously considered making it legal.

-David J. Skal, Death Makes A Holiday,
A Cultural History of Halloween

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