Leaves Quotes

“It’s not that we have to quit
this life one day, but it’s how
many things we have to quit
all at once: music, laughter,
the physics of falling leaves,
automobiles, holding hands,
the scent of rain, the concept
of subway trains... if only one
could leave this life slowly!”
― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

“To hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;
To fly and find pure ethereal substances
That are not of matter
But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;
To be a lantern in the darkness
Or an umbrella in a stormy day;
To feel much more than know.
To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;
To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;
To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;
To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets
Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.
To be a smile on the face of a woman
And shine in her memory
As a moment saved without planning.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

“In every change, in every falling leaf there is some pain, some beauty. And that's the way new leaves grow.”
― Amit Ray

“I was drinking in the surroundings: air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers and greens in every lush shade imaginable offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow.”
― Wendy Delsol, Stork

“Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?”
― John Banister Tabb

“Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn't making any sound. There was no sound to express thid kind of pain.
I didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.”
― James Patterson, Fang

“Come, little leaves," said the Wind one day, "Come to the meadows with me and play. Put on your dresses of red and gold; For Summer is past, and the days grow cold.”
― George Cooper

“FALLING IN LOVE WITH OCTOBER

Leaves descending to the ground,
Orange, magenta, green & brown
The cool crisp breezes in the air,
Autumn season must be here”
― Charmaine J Forde

“He'd grown unused to woods like this. He'd become accustomed to the Northwest, evergreen and shaded dark. Here he was surrounded by soft leaves, not needles; leaves that carried their deaths secretly inside them, that already heard the whispers of Autumn. Roots and branches that knew things.”
― Michael Montoure, Slices

“I made myself a glass of chocolate milk using enough syrup for three normal glasses. I also made myself four peanut butter crackers. Then I walked out the living room door to our terrace. The trees were coming! New green was all over ... green so new that it was kissing yellow.”
― E.L. Konigsburg, Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth

“No matter what I feel, I hold the assurance that God never leaves me.”
― Craig Groeschel, The Christian Atheist: Believing in God but Living As If He Doesn't Exist

“Do not underestimate the muteness of a tree. The rustling leaves of it can sing with the rival wind that many of us cannot do.”
― Munia Khan

“This is a green world, with animals comparatively few and small, and dependent on the leaves. By leaves we live.”
― Patrick Geddes

“She was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. She was fair skinned and golden haired, full-blood Italian. The air was suddenly filled with banana leaves. We started talking and my head started to spin. Cupid’s arrow had whistled past my ears before, but this time it hit me in the heart and the weight of it dragged me overboard.”
― Bob Dylan, Chronicles, Volume One

“The dawn light’s swimming through the trees, making the leaves gleam. A glisk, I think, tattooed on my wrist, maybe my favourite word of all. Because ultimately and ideally, isn’t that what life is: a fleeting glance at a glittering sight.”
― Jandy Nelson, When the World Tips Over

“falling into the mist
through colorful trees
on wings of love

becoming a part
of colors ablaze
in autumn's leaves

holding each color
with floating kisses
on sighs of feathers”
― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography

“Bird of Paradise, feather among leaves,
To the earthy soil I am bound and tied.
Anchored by claws of roots and weighty sheaves,
My spirit flies among the birds that glide.
My sprawled pinions verdant, tail feathers pied,
A crest of orange crowned is my disguise.
As winds breathe hope and new life, then subside,
Seeds are sown and grown right before my eyes.
My vision is centered, strong are my arms,
I feed the hungry and withstand their sting,
I greet the sunrise, and bathe in rainstorms.
Wildflowers fret and speak of blight all spring,
But Paradise shuns foreboding such plight.
Proud is my nature, I stand strongly bright.”
― Marie Helen Abramyan

“It was an endless monologue, like that we sometimes hear from inanimate nature in deep secret places where water flows, or where ivy leaves flap against stones; but by degrees she was convinced that the voice was Winterborne's.”
― Thomas Hardy, The Woodlanders

“Trees are sentient. That’s why I pet their leaves. They have feelings, but it’s not like they read books.”
― Jarod Kintz, Me and memes and memories

“Below me and above me and in the woods stretching thick and endless, their leaves made sugar out of nothing but light.”
― Rebecca Makkai, I Have Some Questions for You

“Autumn makes me take off my shoes and walk on the crunchy leaves of time.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya

“A small meadow of dill and lemon thyme, tarragon and lemon verbena, set amidst Attar of Roses and Prince of Orange pelargoniums. I create a pretty enough landscape that is culinary and medicinal, tucking in pots of marigolds and nasturtiums here and there.
The sun hangs low, a breeze sets in and my work is done, I run my hands through the tallest fronds and gently ruffle the leaves-- trails of aniseed and pepper, chocolate and lavender, rose and lemon dance on the breeze. There are hints of cinnamon and curry, camphor and orange, mint and something I can't quite put my finger on. My hands smell of Greek hillsides and Provençal fields, an Elizabethan knot garden and a Parisian apothecary, but they also smell of long lunches in the garden. As I head in to make supper it dawns on me that spring has finally slipped into summer.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts

“Under the brush of the autumn wind, the leaves dance, painted in hues of orange and gold, a visual symphony that sings in every corner of the forest.”
― David Passarelli, Mountain poems: Musings on stone, forest, and snow

“Here, every creature finds a sanctuary and peace, in a green embrace of leaves and rustles”
― David Passarelli, Mountain poems: Musings on stone, forest, and snow

“Thoughts swirled around her head like the leaves in the breeze.”
― Diana Jaques, The Falling Leaves

“The cloudless sky was gray. The trees had started to shed their leaves. A cold wind was blowing, rendering our winter layers inadequate.”
― Ekamjit Ghuman, Train to Mumbai

“The trees' free-flowing asymmetry fascinates me. Their cluster of leaves, through which the sunlight filters gently in, makes me dream.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya

“A storm tests the strength of roots, not the beauty of leaves.”
― Aloo Denish Obiero

“He who leaves his Country does violate all Laws.


legally or illegally !”
― Dipti Dhakul, Quote: +/-

“Their petals are as delicate as antique lace but I grow them for their leaves, which are scented-- lemon, camphor and rose.
There is Edna Popperwell's Ashby, whose leaves smell not of the advertised rose but (to this nose at least) of frankincense. Attar of Roses has furry leaves which remind me of Turkish delight, Orsett smells of balsam whilst Prince of Orange and Queen of the Lemons speak for themselves, the latter of sherbet lemons rather than the fruit. At the top of the garden is a wayward, rambling Copthorne, whose clusters of marshmallow-pink flowers are entangled amongst the bars of the old iron gate. Others are here not for their scent but for the delicate flowers. The diminutive Shannon sends her frilly parsley leaves and straggle of wandering stems over the table. She has no scent at all, but flowers that resemble salmon-pink stars, which twinkle against the watery-grey zinc of the garden table.
The leaves are nothing to look at but show their magic once you rub them between finger and thumb. I use them for a spritz of inspiration as I write, but I occasionally take them into the kitchen too. If you layer their leaves amongst caster sugar in a jam jar they will infuse the crystals with the essence of lemon, orange or rose. Pick the right leaves and you have delicate, scented sugar with which to crown a summer sponge cake or to infuse in a jug of cream for raspberries.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts