from the pillow book, my edit.

In spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creeps over the mountains, their edges are burnished red and wisps of purplish cloud trail over them.

In summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on dark nights too, when countless fireflies mingle in flight. Even the appearance of one or two charms the eye. Rainy nights even too, how beautiful are they!

In autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edges of the hills and the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos; while more charmings still is a line of wild geese, flying far overhead, tiny in the distant sky. And after the sun has set, the heart is moved immeasurably too by the crying of insects and the sound of the wind.

In winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is simply white with frost; or even when there is no snow or frost, but it is simply very cold and there is a flurry of activity to stir up the fire and bring heat to the rooms in which we live.