Quotes About Leaves

Autumn blew, leaves fell, flames flickered, and song turned to war.

Have a salad at every meal. Once you adopt this habit, lunch or dinner without a raw vegetable seems incomplete. If you tire of lettuce, there are lots of leaves: watercress, radicchio, endive, escarole, dandelion, purslane. Try salads of shaved fennel and orange slices or lightly cooked vegetables, as in celeriac remoulade. At the farm, we have a plate of sliced tomatoes at every summer meal.

Landscape is my religion. ...God in a green legend, I lean over the pool In a testament of leaves. I dangle my twinkling mood Before me in a cool cave roofed with branches And floored with a skin of water.

You know why?" Suzie says. "Because it's autumn. The leaves are falling. The woods open up. Anytime things are moving out, you're in love with moving in.

Ripe strawberries hung from the little plants, row after row. They gleamed like baubles, bright and red among the leaves, weighing down their stalks.

Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; A mother's secret hope outlives them all.

Thanksgiving is the winding up of autumn. The leaves are off the trees, except here and there on a beech or an oak; there is nothing left on the boughs but a few nuts and empty birds' nests. The earth looks desolate, and it will be a comfort to have the snow on the ground, and to hear the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells.

The hidden secret of fall: the leaves don't actually "turn" colors. With the winter season coming, and the process of photosynthesis being without the key ingredients of warmth and sunshine, trees begin to break down chlorophyll. With the "green" gone, the other colors that have been there all along — the magical reds, golds, and oranges — begin to express themselves.

The points of difference that matter are the shape and appearance of the leaves – the depth of the indentations, the appearance of the veins – the hairiness of the shoot tips, the shape and tightness or looseness of the bunches, the

Today is Thanksgiving, and an icicle breeze nips at your window and whips up the leaves. Ah, what a morning! The cold autumn haze brings visions of Pilgrims and Indians…and maize! So wrap in a blanket and don your warm socks and pretend you're descending an old Plymouth rock.

In the morning light, I remembered how much I loved the sound of wind through the trees. I laid back and closed my eyes, and I was comforted by the sound of a million tiny leaves dancing on a summer morning.

On the sidewalk, dead leaves. Or burned pages from an old Gaffiot dictionary. It's the neighborhood of colleges and convents.

There was a rustling through the monster's leaves, like the wind stirring them in a long, slow sigh. I did not come to heal her, the monster said. I came to heal you.

She smelled faintly of wildflowers. But beneath that she smelled like autumn leaves. Like the dark smell of her own hair, like road dust and the air before a summer storm.

brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves.

Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels, I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for.

The brilliant trees burned through the heavy mist and he climbed them to pluck leaves of gold, cramming fistfuls inside his sweater, imagining the wealth that would be his.

A sudden gust of wind shakes the branches of trees scattering a swirl of leaves that shimmer eerily in the bright filtered light. Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels. I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for. The language of the lesser gods. But what of God himself? What is his language? What is his pleasure? Does he meld with the lines of Wordsworth, the musical phrases of Mendelssohn, and experience nature as genius conceives it?

Falling autumn leaves gave the air an amber hue as though seen through a jar of honey.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves deadAre driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,Pestilence-stricken multitudes.

Seeing a fig tree by the road, He went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. “May you never bear fruit again!” He said. And immediately the tree withered.

Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its branches become tender and sprout leaves, you know that summer is near.

Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, He went to see if there was any fruit on it. But when He reached it, He found nothing on it except leaves, since it was not the season for figs.

Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its branches become tender and sprout leaves, you know that summer is near.