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Leaf Quotes

Browse 58 quotes about Leaf.

Leaf Quotes

“Take what you have of what remains, take the colors of what is still left, for this is the flame that will set your soul ablaze before that moment comes when the leaf trembles shuddering in its last joy, the robin cries knowing it is the last song. Sing, Sing, O Sojourner, no season is meant to stay. The deeps are filled with a bitter sweet nostalgia... the cinnamon, nutmeg, cider roast smell, the earth sparkling, feasting on the colors, the grounds merry making as the leaves softly play, for this is the life's sacred performance art, as the earth is playing the grand finale before it slips in the winter's white silence....”

“Why?" He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she'd just asked him to count every leaf on every tree in the Old Place. "Because... you're you.”

“Let me ask you.... what pulls you into life ...when you gulp inside the hardest of ache...let me ask you.....how you still go on living... knowing the roots have grown so dull....let me ask you ....how you continue living...knowing every walk has become the hardest slog..... for beneath the leaves are the memories... you carefully pushed aside...let me ask you how you meet your eyes when all that you housed inside....is still breathing and burning you alive.....could it be a joy on the other side of loss....could it be a dream on the other side of despair.....”

“Filled with Autumn The earth, drowned in colors, I am the river-born soul of rippling water, when the sky breaks down in torrents, I am the color-bathed soul of feasty meadows. With baskets of gold in autumn fields. The spark, the fire, the seed of life, Let the earthly desires burn and burn. The sun rises, and the sky is painted with gold. The sun drowns, and the forest wears a face of red and russet The drowning sun brings dusky dreams. On the fields, I walk to capture autumn's fragrance. October has brought colorful dreams. The fall footsteps have enlivened the earth, The blank pages of my book fill up with poems of light, For colors break through the cloudy skies. Summer left, and I drowned in silence at its hushed goodbye. But in the forest, I heard the footsteps of autumn, Suddenly, verses float, for the quiet evenings now feast in colors, The cinnamon smell fills the home, and the scent of nutmeg wafts in the air.”

“A soft, tender leaf fell off the branch of a tree. I picked it up—it looked at me, as if to whisper; “How did I grow? How did I dance with wind and breeze, Play with birds, and laugh with fellow leaves?” How much had it endured—rain, storms, blazing sun, Noisy roads and shivery winter nights? What were its favourite tastes, its dearest friends, The family that cradled it? None could help it to stay a little longer. At last, it was time to say goodbye. I held it with all the care my hands could offer. It smiled, resting in my palm— Not an end, but a journey to a new universe, Eager to taste fresh wonders. Yet I could not let it go. I restored it, a tiny, radiant fragment of nature, A messenger of joy and love. I gazed once more, and it glimmered quietly, A universe held in a single leaf.”

“I've lived to see my longings die" I've lived to se my longings die: My dreams and I have grown apart; Now only sorrow haunts my eye, The wages of a bitter heart. Beneath the storms of hostile fate, My flowery wreath has faded fast; I live alone and sadly wait To see when death will come at last. Just so, when the winds in winter moan And snow descends in frigid flakes, Upon a naked branch, alone, The final leaf of summer shakes!”

“I fetched a pair of metal tweezers from my pack and carefully plucked a leaf from the frost. It was lovely, segmented like a maple and white as the trunk and boughs, though it also had a coating of short white hairs, like some sort of beast. I placed the leaf within a small metal box I habitually use to collect such samples, many of which have found their place in the Museum of Dryadology and Ethnofolklore at Cambridge.”

“Every tree in the forest has a story to tell. Some of them were burnt but they endured the fire and got revived; some of them were cut, their barks injured, some people pick up their leaves to make medicines for their sicknesses, birds used their leaves to make their nests, etc. Upon all these, the tree is still tree!”

“As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.”