Paramore will be the neighbor that comes over for tea and never leaves.
No lake is beautiful without the sky, without the mist or without the trees and the autumn leaves! No beauty is beautiful in itself!
The three girls were sitting and lying beside her, holding one another, weeping, their arms and legs and hair tangled like the roots of close trees, sobs shaking them like leaves in a high wind.
The word 'vegetable' has no precise botanical meaning in reference to food plants, and we find that almost all parts of plants have been employed as vegetables - roots (carrot and beet), stems (Irish potato and asparagus), leaves (spinach and lettuce), leaf stalk (celery and Swiss chard), bracts (globe artichoke), flower stalks and buds (broccoli and cauliflower), fruits (tomato and squash), seeds (beans), and even the petals (Yucca and pumpkin).
O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green; But as time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves.
Wisdom, prudence, forethought, these are essential. But not second to these that noble courage which adventures the right, and leaves the consequences to God.
A belief which leaves no place for doubt is not a belief; it is a superstition.
Happy, happy, happy for all that God hath done, Glad of all the little leaves dancing in the sun.
A person who is gifted sees the essential point and leaves the rest as surplus.
Unforgiveness denies the victim the possibility of parole and leaves them stuck in the prison of what was, incarcerating them in their trauma and relinquishing the chance to escape beyond the pain.
Trust arrives on foot but leaves in a Ferrari The Ferrari screeched out of the parking lot in 2008.
Wisdom prepares for the worst, but folly leaves the worst for the day when it comes.
To put one brick upon another, Add a third, and then a fourth, Leaves no time to wonder whether What you do has any worth.
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death be like autumn leaves. Rabindranath Tagore What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.
A man in a cave or in a camp, a nomad, will die with no more estate than the wolf or the horse leaves.
[Michael Hastings] has composed a dirge to incompatibility, which, because it raises expectations only to defeat them, leaves a taste of exhumed ashes.
What we agree with leaves us inactive, but contradiction makes us productive.
[T]he departing world leaves behind. . . not an heir, but a pregnant widow.
How our availability, our showing up, our presence, leaves us open to that violence. I think it's a question of language, as it arrives from one body to another. It becomes the thing in between the two bodies.
There's not much out there that people are fighting for that leaves them with nothing but honor.