Quotes About Leaves

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

I surrendered my beliefs and found myself at the tree of life injecting my story into the veins of leaves only to find that stories like forests are subject to seasons

It is people's movement that consoles us. If the leaves of a tree did not move, how sad would be the tree - and so should we.

The urban man is an uprooted tree, he can put out leaves, flowers and grow fruit but what a nostalgia his leaf, flower, and fruit will always have for mother earth!

The leaf of every tree brings a message from the unseen world. Look, every falling leaf is a blessing.

The proprietor had hair so red that pigmentation had flowed out into every visible inch of his skin and even into the pinks of his eyes, as the colour of flowering cherry trees stains their leaves.

But the trees were gorgeous in their autumnal leafiness - the warm odours of flowers and herb came sweet upon the sense.

The Blossoms and leaves in plenty From the apple tree fall each day; The merry breezes approach them, And with them merrily play.

General principles... are to the facts as the root and sap of a tree to its leaves.

There is, in the heart, the hard-rendering profit. As if we were plucking the leaves from the trees.

So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung.

Thoughts are roots

According to a new poll, the number of Americans who trust Hillary is dropping. Specifically into a hole that Hillary covered with leaves.

Maybe all the secrets of life were written on the surface of leaves, waiting to be translated. If I touched them long enough, I might be given some information no one else had.

You were not gazing at the fallen leaves. You went away from all the following seasons, feeling immortal. You loved tattoos and salt. Mariner, with two oars you knew the sea like a garden...then, you were gone.

I'm going to untangle her deadly scheme, even if it leaves my love affair hanging by a thread.

Late October Carefully the leaves of autumn sprinkle down the tinny sound of little dyings and skies sated of ruddy sunsets of roseate dawns roil ceaselessly in cobweb greys and turn to black for comfort. Only lovers see the fall a signal end to endings a gruffish gesture alerting those who will not be alarmed that we begin to stop in order to begin again.

Carefully the leaves of autumn sprinkle down the tinny sound of little dyings and skies sated of ruddy sunsets of roseate dawns roil ceaselessly in cobweb grey and turn to black for comfort.

The crumbling castle, looming among the mists, exhaled the season, and every cold stone breathed it out. The tortured trees by the dark lake burned and dripped, their leaves snatched by the wind were whirled in wild circles through the towers. The clouds mouldered as they lay coiled, or shifted themselves uneasily upon the stone skyfield, sending up wreathes that drifted through the turrets and swarmed up hidden walls.

Home is a room dappled with firelight: there are pictures and books. And when the rain sighs, and the acorns fall, there are patterns of leaves against the drawn curtains. Home is where I was safe. Home is what I fled from.

I looked up through a scatter of fluttering leaves silhouetted against the rosy autumn sunset.

My feet scuffed through the golden leaves carpeting the wide sidewalks. Sunlight and shadow danced on ivy-covered walls.

He was among trees then, spring trees tender with the new matchless green of young leaves, and a clear sun dappling them; summer trees full of leaf, whispering, massive; dark winter firs that fear no master and let no light brighten their woods. He learned the nature of all trees, the particular magics that are in oak and beech and ash.

Autumn was San Francisco's summer. The days were bright and warm, scented with drying leaves and fading flowers and the ever-present salt air.