Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Leaves. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Leaves Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Maithy Vu,Toni Morrison,Natsuki Takaya,Sarah Chauncey Woolsey,Mehmet Murat Ildan for you to enjoy and share.
Fallen leaves grow back come spring.
he left her like a skunk leaves a smell.
To be left behind ... or to leave behind. I wonder which hurts more.
Dry leaves upon the wall, Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape, A single frosted cluster on the grape Still hangs
and that is all.
Is it possible that a tragedy can look so beautiful? The death of the leaves is the answer for this question!
Don't be in temper, to leave so quickly, that I may be dying. But all too soon, the leaves and debris will gather elsewhere.
There are people who leave and people who know how to be left.
Leaves lift trees.
Leaves," Ronan Lynch's voice said, full of intention.
"Dust," Adam Parrish said.
"Wind," Blue Sargent said.
"Shit," Henry Cheng added.
The leaves of our blessed lives fall to the ground and if we're wise like my grandfather, we gather them in a pile and keep them safe lest the winds of forgetfulness blow them away.
I let the dogs out.
off the leaves and straightened my clothes, wishing there was
What is life, but the gentle effacement of a tree shedding its leaves?
Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.
Leaving would imply suitcases and empty drawers, and late birthday cards with ten-dollar bills stuffed inside.
Leaves hung in the stillness like hands of the newly dead.
There is something so special in the early leaves drifting from the trees - as if we are all to be allowed a chance to peel, to refresh, to start again.
A human being sheds its leaves like a tree. Sickness prunes it down; and it no longer offers the same silhouette to the eyes which loved it, to the people to whom it afforded shade and comfort.
The leaves that are green turn to brown. And they wither with the wind. And they crumble in your hand.
When the beauty and warmth of summer is here,
then dancing leaves with colors are not too far.
People either leave or they stay.
The gardener hath gathered up this autumn's leaves. Who shall see them again, or who wot of them? And who shall say what hath befallen in the days of long ago?
Leave me now as one leaves a corpse ... with regret, and memories, but without a second look.
Spring, the snow must go; fall, the leaves can't stay.
I've felt the hate rise up in me ...
Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves ...
I wander out where you can't see ...
Inside my shell I wait and bleed ...
Love life's weariness leavens.
A chaplet of leaves crowns the victor.
There is so much to learn from leaves who graciously dance in thunder, rain and storm, in heat and merciless cold, dance to a song of their own indifferent that in time they will curl and die for it is not for them to know but only to dance and be happy.
The leaves and the light are one.
Love as air loves the leaves.
Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, Unnerves his strength, invites his end.
Around and around the house the leaves fall thick, but never fast, for they come circling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow.
After the leaves have fallen, we return
To a plain sense of things. It is as if
We had come to an end of the imagination,
Inanimate in an inert savoir.
He leaves. Just like that. No final good-bye, no last, lingering glance.
Like we never loved each other at all.
The scattered tea goes with the leaves and every day a sunset dies.
Goodbye don't mean gone.
The leaving happened slowly, gradually, as these things do, and before we knew it, we were lost to each other, as if a magician had whisked a cloth off the table, leaving the dishes there, jolted. And when we looked back it was all a blur, time on fast forward, hurtling to an inevitable conclusion.
Goodbye is a strange concept - if the person being left behind resents it and refuses to accept it, is it still goodbye, or simply a departure?
Sigh of leaves and waves, waiting, awaiting the fullness of their times,
Death is a departure.
A red leaf danced from a branch like a dropping flame, down into the calm blue lake. A gust had broken it free. There was a cold bite in the wind.
It was now deep autumn in the mountains.
Autumn is full of leave-taking.
So many leaves have fallen on my life. Some settled nicely to rest, but most fell, withered to bitter cold and drifted on. But, after all that, I would brave all the coldness of humanity again for the sight of a few more beautiful yellow leaves falling on Aspen, and the birds....
What will happen to the flowers, now that you are gone? The earth that clings to the steps, the tulsi that begins to sprout. The colors that brighten the darkness of the stairs, the scents that perfume the air. Must I climb alone the petal-strewn trail of your descent?
I am leaving.
Not where but whom.
How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.
leave me. And it was a great sense of relief. The
The maple leaves grow restless.
Ah! well away! Seasons flower and fade.
He did not say goodbye, but she felt him leave. In the shadows of her closed eyes, she saw the forest path and saw him there. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. He had simply ceased to be.
Exit, pursued by a bear.
Leaves turned to soil beneath my feet. Thus it is, trees eat themselves.
Leaves skirled past, clattering like tiny bones.
Abandoned like an empty beer bottle, cigarette butt, worn-out shoe.
I'll turn over a new leaf.
When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.
The year is ended, and it only adds to my age;
Spring has come, but I must take leave of my home.
Alas, that the trees in this eastern garden,
Without me, will still bear flowers.
It is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
Though leaves are many, the root is one.
When the going gets tough, everyone leaves.
Autumn teaches us that fruition is also death; that ripeness is a form of decay. The willows, having stood for so long near water, begin to rust. Leaves are verbs that conjugate the seasons.
Leaves in the light of red flames; the wind laughs out of golden clouds.
Unless you leave a person both physically and mentally, you are still with that person and there is no real departure!
We leave as four.
The autumn leaves, arranged in two or three scarlet terraces among the pine-trees, have fallen like ancient dreams.
You're here. So how can I leave?
It was only leaves and branches.
Some dry leaf blows into a campfire well-stoked and drawing well. What follows? That leaf catches at once, swiftly is consumed, a shadow withering briefly in the fierce light, and thereafter little remains, not cinder and ash so much as smudges of char.
It is fading away.
October passed. Leaves that his mother had once looked at loosened from the trees and twisted through the air, gathering in a slippery carpet at Byron's feet.
Yellow leaves were falling all through the forest and the river was filled with them, shuttling and winking, golden leaves that rushed like poured coins in the tailwater. A perishable currency, forever renewed.
Departures should be sudden.
So they shouldn't say they won't
Soon all the leaves would fall, leaving this spot bare and brown. I felt like I was looking at the pinnacle of a particularly dazzling firework as it filled the night sky, just before it lost its shape and faded into darkness.
I popped out of a bamboo, fallen from the sky.
Leave no leaf ripped, don't you ruin the nature.
It makes me bitter, remembering inhuman past.
The leaves were half-gone now. The Norway maples still hung on to their yellow, but most of the orangey-red of the sugar maples had found their way to the ground, leaving behind the stark branches that seemed to hang like stuck-out arms and tiny fingers, skeletal and bleak.
In spring, the snow must go; in fall, the leaves can't stay.
To leave, after all, was not the same as being left.
Do not leave without saying good bye.
For the time being
Are they fallen leaves?
We all do fade as a leaf.
He stood backlit
by windows full of winter,
a shade thrown over his face.
What a waste, I thought.
It was not that kind of leaving. I am not that kind of gone.
To leave a book is like leaving the better part of oneself.
One cannot in the nature of things expect a little tree that has been turned into a club to put forth leaves.
What you leave
isn't always there when you come back.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
You leave behind your fine poems.
You leave behind your beautiful flowers. And the earth that was only leant to you. You ascend into the Light, O Quechomitl, you leave behind the flowers and the singing and the earth. Safe journey, O friend.
Remember you must live.
remember you most love.
remainder you mist leaf.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.
The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.
In November, the trees are standing all sticks and bones. Without their leaves, how lovely they are, spreading their arms like dancers. They know it is time to be still.
Each day is a dry leaf, which never comes back to life again.
No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
The leaves were still on the trees, but were becoming dry, perched like birds ready to fly off.
The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown.
A wind has blown the rain away & the sky away & all the leaves away, & the trees stand. i think i, too, have known autumn too long.
Gone, but only until we get there
-- Jo Royston
Prudently, night flees the scene.
Just dandelion leaves trod all down his path with this going away and the coming back. Some great ending it feels like. For now though, just go through his broke door.