Seasonal philosophical bullshit

As summer gives way to fall, I thought I'd offer up a passage from Chinese author and inventor Lin Yutang. I've taken the liberty of subtly modifying it, though. See if you can find the change...it's very subtle.

I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colors are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and it is content. But winter just sucks.