Autumn Leaves Quotes (page 2)

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• autumn
• leaving
• wind

Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable...the hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street...by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese. Hal Borland

• autumn
• memorial day
• memories

So the days, the last days, blow about in a memory, hazy autumnal, all alike as leaves: until a day unlike any other I've lived Truman Capote

• winter
• morning
• bright

The morning air of the pasture turned steadily cooler. Day by day, the bright golden leaves of the birches turned more spotted as the first winds of winter slipped between the withered branches and across the highlands toward the southeast. Stopping in the center of the pasture, I could hear the winds clearly. No turning back, they pronounced. The brief autumn was gone. Haruki Murakami

• manly
• contentment
• world

And in the years when your shadow leaned clear across the land as you lay abed nights with your heartbeat mounting to the billions, his invention must let a man drowse easy in the falling leaves like the boys in autumn who, comfortably strewn in the dry stacks, are content to be a part of the death of the world... Ray Bradbury

• sea
• purpose
• crying

as the slow sea sucked at the shore and then withdrew, leaving the strip of seaweed bare and the shingle churned, the sea birds raced and ran upon the beaches. Then that same impulse to flight seized upon them too. Crying, whistling, calling, they skimmed the placid sea and left the shore. Make haste, make speed, hurry and begone; yet where, and to what purpose? The restless urge of autumn, unsatisfying, sad, had put a spell upon them and they must flock, and wheel, and cry; they must spill... Daphne du Maurier

• leaving
• pain
• alone

Never let me lose the marvelof your statue-like eyes, or the accentthe solitary rose of your breathplaces on my cheek at night.I am afraid of being, on this shore,a branchless trunk, and what I most regretis having no flower, pulp, or clayfor the worm of my despair.If you are my hidden treasure,if you are my cross, my dampened pain,if I am a dog, and you alone my master,never let me lose what I have gained,and adorn the branches of your riverwith leaves of my estranged Autumn. Federico Garcia Lorca

• life
• meditation
• soul

Sit still with me in the shade of these green trees, which have no weightier thought than the withering of their leaves when autumn arrives, or the stretching of their many stiff fingers into the cold sky of the passing winter. Sit still with me and meditate on how useless effort is, how alien the will, and on how our very meditation is no more useful than effort, and no more our own than the will. Meditate too on how a life that wants nothing can have no weight in the flux of things, but a... Fernando Pessoa

• autumn
• dead
• leaving

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt. William Allingham