Leafs Quotes (page 6)
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Since the first human eye saw a leaf in Devonian sandstone and a puzzled fingerreached to touch it, sadness has lain over the heart of man. By this tenuousthread of living protoplasm, stretching backward into time, we are linked forever to lost beaches whose sands have long since hardened into stone. The stars that caught our blindamphibian stare have shifted far or vanished in their courses, but still that naked, glistening thread winds onward. No one knows the secret of its beginning or its...
Loren Eiseley
Lay down these words. Before your mind like rocks. placed solid, by hands. In choice of place, set. Before the body of the mind in space and time: Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall riprap of things: Cobble of milky way. straying planets, These poems, people, lost ponies with. Dragging saddles -- and rocky sure-foot trails. The worlds like an endless four-dimensional. Game of Go. ants and pebbles. In the thin loam, each rock...
Gary Snyder
They shoot the white girl first, but the rest they can take their time. No need to hurry out here. They are 17 miles from a town which has 90 miles between it and any other. Hiding places will be plentiful in the convent, but there is time, and the day has just begun. They are nine. Over twice the number of the women, they are obliged to stampede or kill, and they have the paraphernalia for either requirement--rope, a palm leaf cross, handcuffs, mace, and sunglasses, along with clean,...
Toni Morrison
Her concern with landscapes and living creatures was passionate. This concern, feebly called, "the love of nature" seemed to Shevek to be something much broader than love. There are souls, he thought, whose umbilicus has never been cut. They never got weaned from the universe. They do not understand death as an enemy; they look forward to rotting and turning into humus. It was strange to see Takver take a leaf into her hand, or even a rock. She became an extension of it, it of her.
Ursula K. Le Guin
A poem should be palpable and mute. As a globed fruit. Dumb. As old medallions to the thumb. Silent as the sleeve-worn stone. Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -A poem should be wordless. As the flight of birds. A poem should be motionless in time. As the moon climbs. Leaving, as the moon releases. Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, Memory by memory the mind -A poem should be motionless in time. As the moon climbs. A poem should be...
Archibald MacLeish
There's always the possibility that you're going to come across a record that transforms your life. And it happens weekly. It's like a leaf on the stream. There are little currents and eddies and sticks lying in the water that nudge you in a slightly different direction. And then you break loose and carry on down the current. There's nothing that actually stops you and lifts you out of the water and puts you on the bank but there are diversions and distractions and alarums and excursions...
John Peel
(..)-Dr. G. would later say that the whole "my whole life flashed before me" phenomenon at the end is more like being a whitecap on the suface of the ocean, meaning that it's only at the moment you subside and start sliding back in that you're really even aware there's an ocean at all. When you're up and out there as a whitecap you might talk and act as if you know you're just a whitecap on the ocean, but deep down you don't think there's really an ocean at all. It's almost impossible to. Or...
David Foster Wallace
Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence [sic] ever, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror.
Truman Capote
