Quotes About Leaves

October's Party October gave a party; The leaves by hundreds came - The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, And leaves of every name. The Sunshine spread a carpet, And everything was grand, Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.

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.

I had always planned to make a large painting of the early spring, when the first leaves are at the bottom of the trees, and they seem to float in space in a wonderful way. But the arrival of spring can't be done in one picture.

We all know that any thing which retards in any way the free circulation of the sap, also prevents to a certain extent the formation of wood and leaves.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

We fill the woods with invasive primates camouflaged to look like piles of leaves who sneak around, sprinkling estrus doe urine and manipulating gadgets that sound like antlers clashing.

With its distinctly rural feel, the New York band Woods makes an ideal soundtrack for balmy walks amidst mammoth trees and crunchy beds of dead leaves.

Growing older I descend November. The asymptotic cycle of the year plummets to now. In crystal reveries I pass beneath a fixed white line of trees where dry leaves lie for footsteps to dismember. They crackle with a muted sound like fear. That and the wind are all that I can hear. I ask cold air, "What is the word that frees?" The wind says, "Change," and the white sun, "Remember." —from Electra

Make scented geranium cream-Leaves steamed in cream, cream cheese and sugar. When cool-Eat with berries or poached peaches.

She looked like autumn, when leaves turned and fruit ripened.

Naelin loved the forest, all the layers and shades of green, so many shades that there weren't words to describe them all - a spectrum of green, from the hopeful green of new leaves to the contemplative moss green on the forest floor, so dark it was nearly black.

Time burns but leaves no ashes.

Now is the time of the illuminated woods ... when every leaf glows like a tiny lamp.

Went looking for faith on the forest floor, and it showed up everywhere. In the sun, and the water, and the falling leaves, the falling leaves of time.

A narrow pond would form in the orchard, water clear as air covering grass and black leaves and fallen branches, all around it black leaves and drenched grass and fallen branches, and on it, slight as an image in an eye, sky, clouds, trees, our hovering faces and our cold hands.

Fear and comfort could be the same thing. It was strange, when she thought of it. The wind always somewhere, trifling with the leaves, troubling the firelight. And that smell of damp earth and bruised grass, a lonely, yearning sort of smell that meant, Why don't you come back, you will come back, you know you will.

The immense water thunked and thudded beneath my head, and I felt that our survival was owed to our slightness, that we danced through ruinous currents as dry leaves do, and were not capsized because the ruin we rode upon was meant for greater things.

The sun was brightly mild. There was the crisp sound of maple leaves just ripe enough to fall, and leather oak leaves that would cling until a wind took them, and the smell from the fields of all the life that had burned through all those crops until it spent itself down like a fire. It was almost the smell of smoke.

Autumn settled itself down over the land like a colorful skirt. Dusk came earlier and touched the leaves with sharp breath. The hills were filled with the smoke from smoldering patches of forest fires.

The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever!

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooksIn Vallombrosa.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door. I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened.

When time marches on, it steps on your nose and tail, and leaves boot prints down your back.