Quotes About Persimmon

Brilliant, windy day—cold. It is fall. It is the kind of day in October that Pop used to talk about. I thought about my grandfather as I came up through the hollow, with the sun on the bare persimmon trees, and a song in my mouth. All songs are, as it were, one's last. I have been grateful for life.

In the next life what would my career be? Oh, easy. Dried persimmon dealer.

I could be wrong, but she seemed to be one of those anti-gluten, pro-yoga, organic wine bar, Generation-Y echo boomers. A Gwyneth Paltrow type who would name her first daughter Persimmon or whatever.

But like so many things in Japan, behind the façade lay another view. So it was only after I had hiked into the woods far from the bridge that I found a fluttering world of persimmon, ocher, scarlet, and cabernet secreted away in a mossy garden of curving stone paths. When it began to rain, the colors deepened and the leaves, shaped like a baby's hands, spiraled down onto the plush green carpet and sleek dark rocks.