Top 100 Quotes About Green Leaves
#1. Man is smart - If money would have grown on trees, we would have used green leaves as money.
Amit Kalantri
#2. Let all the green leaves be mine
as long as the trees define
shades created by their limbs
for the soil made with victims
of atrocity's vileness
to redeem the fragileness
Munia Khan
#3. Trees were made of vibrant green leaves sitting on the shoulders of shy green leaves too embarrassed to show themselves.
Kevin James Moore
#4. I told her how many things on earth have a fixed colour. Let us say, the green leaves. In our eyes, a red or a yellow leaf is beautiful. Even better if the leaf is shaded in several hues. So we paint the yellows and reds in our paintings oftener. And we forget the ordinary green, the best in nature.
Anuradha Bhattacharyya
#5. Well, it's funny because, "The Green Leaves of Summer" and "The Alamo" theme are the same thing. There's just - the Brothers Four was a different recording of it.
Quentin Tarantino
#6. The tree I had in the garden as a child, my beech tree, I used to climb up there and spend hours. I took my homework up there, my books, I went up there if I was sad, and it just felt very good to be up there among the green leaves and the birds and the sky.
Jane Goodall
#7. Come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.
Felicia Hemans
#8. Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot towards heaven.
William C. Bryant
#9. The once green leaves have faded to blood-red and autumn herself has wrapped her crisp cloak around your shoulders
Unknown
#10. I would have run away
Into the forest
To live in a nest
Made of dreams
And green leaves
Margarita Engle
#11. Flowers are red, and green leaves are green. There's no need to see flowers any other way than the way they always have been seen.
Harry Chapin
#12. The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only the oleanders thrived, their delicate poisonous blooms, their dagger green leaves. We could not sleep in the hot dry nights, my mother and I.
Janet Fitch
#13. The feathery palms that lined the drainage canals, the acacia thorns and sycamores, all glistened with the sheen of new, pale-green leaves, and in Khaemwaset's gardens the vivid clusters of flowers had begun to bloom with an abandon that assaulted the eyes and filled the nostrils with delight.
Pauline Gedge
#14. The sincerity of the art worker must permeate the song as naturally as the green leaves break through the dead branches in springtime.
Alma Gluck
#16. Don't under-rate the scope of your influence in your youth. Don't think you have all the time to make a difference in this world. Recognize that both brown and green leaves fall to the ground.
Nana Awere Damoah
#17. Thus night with all her snares passed through the upper world and baited all heads sweetly, fed all foolish hopes, for night can bring to men all shrewish day denies, wrapped as a gift in the green leaves of opiate dream.
Nikos Kazantzakis
#18. What child has ever known the country and has not twined hundreds of fragrant wreaths with the yellow shining cowslip and the more frail and delicate violet - mingling here and there green leaves culled from the odorous eglantine, or, as we more commonly call it, sweetbriar.
Dorothea Dix
#19. Green leaves on a dead tree is our epitaph-green leaves, dear reader, on a dead tree.
Cyril Connolly
#20. Eustace remembered a day like this one: spring on the cusp of summer, the earth unclenching its fist, thick green leaves, rich with fragrance, fattening the trees. A
Justin Cronin
#21. Suddenly nothing in the world seemed to Guy more glamorous than homosexuality, as romantic as heady white gardenias nested in polished green leaves.
Edmund White
#22. Somewhere within sight of the tree of poetry that is eternity wearing the green leaves of time .
R.S. Thomas
#23. She's a manner of speaking.
Even the flowers don't come back, or the green leaves.
There are new flowers, new green leaves.
There are other beautiful days.
Nothing comes back, nothing repeats itself, because everything is real.
Alberto Caeiro
#24. Yet here, this night, you might repose with me, On green leaves pillowed: apples ripe have I, Soft chestnuts, and of curdled milk enow. And, see, the farm-roof chimneys smoke afar, And from the hills the shadows lengthening fall!
Virgil
#25. I know there will be spring, as surely as the birds know it when they see above the snow two tiny, quivering green leaves. Spring cannot fail us.
Olive Schreiner
#26. My wind is turned to bitter north, That was so soft a south before; My sky, that shone so sunny bright, With foggy gloom is clouded o'er My gay green leaves are yellow-black, Upon the dank autumnal floor; For love, departed once, comes back No more again, no more.
Arthur Hugh Clough
#27. In plants, vitamin K is found principally in all kinds of green leaves; leaves which have grown in the dark and therefore have not formed chlorophyll are poor sources.
Henrik Dam
#28. Oh for a book and a shady nook, Either indoors or out, with the green leaves whispering overhead, or the street cries all about. Where I may read at all my ease both of the new and old, For a jolly good book whereon to look is better to me than gold
John Wilson
#29. And there were ruined castles covered with ivy - the badge of the old order, clinging to its own; and into the ivy doves dived, seeming to leave in their wake a trail of amethyst, just as a clump of bottle-green leaves is shot with purple by the knowledge that it hides violets.
Hope Mirrlees
#30. The dew seemed to sparkle more brightly on the green leaves the air to rustle among them with a sweeter music and the sky itself to look more blue and bright. Such is the influence which the condition of our own thoughts, exercise, even over the appearance of external objects.
Charles Dickens
#31. I look out my window at the blue sky,
The white clouds,
and the green leaves of the Rustling trees,
And I realize i'm already in Heaven
Michelle Geaney
#32. Back home Chinars sniff autumn breeze,
and green leaves blush to crimson frangibility;
Yet it is me here drinking coffee, thinking airplanes;
Ashfaq Saraf
#33. And so a barrow to this hero was raised in that land, and there stands a token for men of later days to see, the trunk of a wild olive tree, such as ships are built of; and it flourishes with its green leaves a little below the Acherusian headland. And
Apollonius Of Rhodes
#34. You can't make a frog richer who already have a great sun and have a pretty lake with green leaves, insects and flowers! He is already the richest of the richest!
Mehmet Murat Ildan
#35. In your arms was still delight,
Quiet as a street at night;
And thoughts of you, I do remember,
Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,
Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
Rupert Brooke
#36. Alone in the clearing, I rediscover your sighs in the notes of turgid and green leaves
Luca Ferrarini
#37. The monster towered ten or twelve feet tall. Its bright green leathery skin was covered in dirt,
moss, leaves, and patches of grass, the stench repulsive. His teeth gleamed brown. Evidently he
wasn't aware of the multitude of whitening products on the market.
A&E Kirk
#38. There is a time in late September when the leaves are still green, and the days are still warm, but somehow you know that it is all about to end, as if summer was holding its breath, and when it let it out again, it would be autumn.
Sharyn McCrumb
#39. Interesting fact from the front lines: raw grief smells like ripped leaves and splintered branches, a jagged green shriek.
Tana French
#40. We drove ten miles in silence, the country road canopied in electric green. I pressed my head against the glass to watch the new maple leaves curling in the breeze. Every few turns offered a tempting glimpse of Lake Champlain's choppy waters.
Miranda Beverly-Whittemore
#41. Wag the world how it will, Leaves must be green in Spring.
Herman Melville
#42. A living tree is a changing, sleeve shape, a wet, thin, bright green creature that survives in the thin layer between heartwood and bark. It stands waiting for light, which it catches in the close-woven sieves of its leaves.
Alice Oswald
#43. Nor do I try to keep a garden, only
An avocado in a glass of water --
Roots pallid, gemmed with air. And later,
When the small gilt leaves have grown
Fleshy and green, I let them die, yes, yes,
And start another. I am earth's no less.
James Merrill
#44. In this part of California, there is no fall or spring. Summer drops right into winter, into summer, back and forth. Our idea of autumn is October, where the leaves rapidly go from green to gold to on-the-ground, and it's suddenly freezing.
Kelley York
#45. I love your eyes, did you know that? I have never seen eyes as green as yours. They put the leaves of the Amazon Forest to shame. And your unbelievably long and dark lashes make them even more startling.
Cristiane Serruya
#47. The courtyard kept changing, dazzling her with the flowers that bloomed between one day and the next, with the bare branches of trees that were swollen with the buds of new leaves and then fuzzed with green. Every day, she drove a familiar road through a new place.
Anne Bishop
#48. 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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
#49. In the Ondariva gardens the branches spread out like the tentacles of extraordinary animals, and the plants on the ground opened up stars of fretted leaves like the green skins of reptiles, and waved feathery yellow bamboos with a rustle like paper.
Italo Calvino
#50. It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye.
("For The Rest Of Her Life")
Cornell Woolrich
#51. We cannot make the Kingdom of God happen, but we can put out leaves as it draws near. We can be kind to each other. We can be kind to ourselves. We can drive back the darkness a little. We can make green places within ourselves and among ourselves where God can make his Kingdom happen.
Frederick Buechner
#52. Landscape is my religion.
... God in a green legend, I lean over the pool
In a testament of leaves. I dangle my twinkling mood
Before me in a cool cave roofed with branches
And floored with a skin of water.
Norman MacCaig
#53. The leaves had edges of silver that trembled and rippled like a river of green and fire flowing high above us.
Ayn Rand
#54. We came to woodlands, with leaves unfurling on every branch, as if one blow of spring's green hammer had set them exploding from the bud.
Mark Lawrence
#55. Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood Let the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace Let me die in my footsteps Before I go down under the ground.
Bob Dylan
#56. Joy could be found everywhere. A hollow on the trunk of a tree could not spoil its beauty, as the little caterpillars eating some of its leaves could not spoil it either. It was still green and offered shade to those in need.
Irina Serban
#57. Freddie Green has been my right arm for thirty years. And if he leaves the band one day, I'll probably leave with him.
Count Basie
#58. The breadfruit is a superb tree, about 60 feet high, with deep green, shining leaves, a foot broad, sharply and symmetrically cut, worthy, from their exceeding beauty of form, to take the place of the acanthus in architectural ornament, and throwing their pale green fruit into delicate contrast.
Isabella Bird
#59. You could hear the wind in the leaves, and on that wind traveled the screams of the kids on the playground in the distance, little kids figuring out how to be alive, how to navigate a world that wasn't made for them by navigating a playground that was.
John Green
#61. When I listen to you, God
when I do what you ask me to,
I am like a tree
planted by a river,
a tree full of fruit
with leaves that are always green. Ps 1(paraphrased)
Marie-Helene Delval
#62. Watch, how the sun
slowly rises
from behind my ear
new lines, new countries
spring up in my palms
my rough hair
become swaying silk
and all the leaves
in my body
become lusher than fruits.
Sanober Khan
#63. My meal arrived. It was a bowl of tepid, green curried water with two spinach leaves floating in it. The waiter called it 'vegetable soup'. I called it inedible slop.
Frank Kusy
#64. Wild steep mountains floating in a haze of cloud...a sea of green trees swallowing the hills and valleys, and curling around the trails and rivers, with the wind in the leaves as its tide.
Sharyn McCrumb
#65. I made myself a glass of chocolate milk using enough syrup for three normal glasses. I also made myself four peanut butter crackers. Then I walked out the living room door to our terrace. The trees were coming! New green was all over ... green so new that it was kissing yellow.
E.L. Konigsburg
#66. 2 grilled chicken breasts, diced 1 avocado, peeled and diced 5-6 green lettuce leaves, cut in stripes 3-4 green onions, finely chopped 5-6 radishes, sliced 7-8 grape tomatoes 2 tbsp lemon juice 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 1 tsp dried mint salt and black pepper, to taste
Alissa Noel Grey
#67. The light faded slowly, retreating through the trees. The thick mossy trunks grew dense with shadow, edges still rimmed with a fugitive light that hid among the leaves, green shadows shifting with the sunset breeze.
Diana Gabaldon
#68. There was a rustle of chirruping sparrows in the green lacquer leaves of the ivy, and the blue cloud-shadows chased themselves across the grass like swallows.
Oscar Wilde
#69. This is a green world, with animals comparatively few and small, and dependent on the leaves. By leaves we live.
Patrick Geddes
#70. She turned back to inspect a bank of greens: olive, jade, leaf, kiwi, lime, a silver-green like the back of birch leaves, a bright pistachio.
Anne Bartlett
#71. Relations are like leaves in a plant. Some green, some dried. Just shook yourself, and all the dried ones will fall.
Alok Jagawat
#72. As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill
So my body leaves no scar
On you and never will
Leonard Cohen
#73. The common hill-flowers wither, but they blossom again. The laburnum will be as yellow next June as it is now. In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and year after year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars. But we never get back our youth.
Oscar Wilde
#74. Summer was over in twenty minutes that day. Finished. At four o'clock in the afternoon the roses were quiet on their stems, full-blown, fulfilled; the water in the pool was warm; the leaves on the trees quiet, too, and green. The cat lay with his belly to the sun, steeped in heat.
Elizabeth Enright
#75. Though the leaves fall from the trees like brown tears, for him everything must be as green as fresh grass, as white as May blossom, as if to convince us all that the seasons are upside down and we are all Tudors now. A
Philippa Gregory
#76. The irony is that the more we fight age, the more it shows. Paint on a 50-year-old face brings to mind a Gilbert and Sullivan comic figure. Smooth the cheeks, and suddenly the ear lobes and hands look out of place. Do we run around in October, painting the gold leaves green?
Karen DeCrow
#77. A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.
E. Nesbit
#78. Where is the soul? ... I refuse to believe anything of that kind without proof. The idea that, as soon as a man's breath leaves his body, the soul flops out like a chicken's head and flies off into space to find a lodgment where there [are] harps and haloes. Too much for me.
Robert Green Ingersoll
#79. A great acacia, with its slender trunk
And overpoise of multitudinous leaves.
(In which a hundred fields might spill their dew
And intense verdure, yet find room enough)
Stood reconciling all the place with green.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
#80. But you know what they say about Gutshot: the population never goes up and never goes down, because every time a woman gets pregnant, a man leaves town.
John Green
#81. Wait a minute," he says, holding up one of his large handa. "A green bomb?"
"I'm not making this up."
"Why green, though?"
"Because green is the color of money, grass, oak leaves, and alien bombs. How the hell would I know why it was green?
Rick Yancey
#82. Love is this sudden crash in your path, quick and to the point, and nearly always it leaves someone slain on the green.
Daniel Handler
#83. The wind fights in the treetops; the leaves move in a hundred dialects of green...
p.17
Fredrik Backman
#84. The light filtered throught the leaves and pine needles above as if through lace, the ground spotted in shadow.
John Green
#85. When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold, Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold;
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!
J.R.R. Tolkien
#86. Enormous and solid but swaying, beaten by the wind but chained, murmur of a million leaves against my window. Riot of trees, surge of dark green sounds. The grove, suddenly still, is a web of fronds and branches.
Octavio Paz
#87. Above us hung a tapestry of silver and gold and palest green that in my world had faded into white: a great oak so entwined with ivy it had died, its bare branches pushing through the leaves like bone. I stared at the roses, wanting to hold my hands to such red, but like the light, they burned cold.
Patricia A. McKillip
#88. The leaves that are green turn to brown. And they wither with the wind. And they crumble in your hand.
Paul Simon
#89. Experiments upon vegetation give reason to believe that light combines with certain parts of vegetables, and that the green of their leaves, and the various colors of flowers, is chiefly owing to this combination.
Antoine Lavoisier
#90. I have never really thought of him as a person, either ... A guy whose strings were broken, who didn't feel the root of his leaves of grass connected to the field, a guy who was cracked. Like me.
John Green
#91. No, not officially. But you know what they say about Gunshot: the population never goes up and never goes down, because everytime a woman gets pregnant, a man leaves the town.
John Green
#92. Such a dark green, his eyes. They reminded her of the forest, of all the dangers lying dormant behind that verdant cloak of leaves.
Nenia Campbell
#93. People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It's triumphant. It's heroic. Isn't that the real heroism? Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.
John Green
#94. Its composure thoroughly disrupted, the little treelet, the picture of arboreal distress, let its branches droop a little, and its green birch leaves fluttered anxiously.
Lev Grossman
#95. We can hear others, and we can travel with them without moving, and we can imagine them, and we are all connected one to the other by a crazy root system, like so many leaves of grass. But the game makes me wonder wheter we can really ever fully become another.
John Green
#96. In the trees the night wind stirs, bringing the leaves to life, endowing them with speech; the electric lights illuminate the green branches from the under side, translating them into a new language.
E.B. White
#97. A single slim trunk
Branches that bow in a storm
Green, leathery leaves with a soft centre
Glittering against blue sky
White bark scarred, bleeding
Heart wide-open
Bandaged, but upright she stands... (225)
Fadia Faqir
#98. Lo, and I have discovered
how soft bloom
turns to green fruit,
which turns to sweet fruit.
Lo, and I have discovered
all winds blow cold
at last,
and the leaves,
so pretty, so many,
vanish
in the great, black
packet of time
Mary Oliver
#99. A simple dream, set in a city park, along an avenue of mature elms, whose overarching branches turned the avenue into a green tunnel into which the sky and the sunlight were dripping, here and there, through the perfect imperfections in the canopy of leaves.
Salman Rushdie
#100. We went on, cutting through the branches, and it was as if we were swimming through a sea of leaves, with the bushes as waves rising and falling and rising around us, and flinging their green sprays high to the treetops.
Ayn Rand
