Quotes About Oak Leaves

#1. I could lecture on dry oak leaves; I could, but who would hear me? If I were to try it on any large audience, I fear it would be no gain to them, and a positive loss to me. I should have behaved rudely toward my rustling friends.

Henry David Thoreau

#2. The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.

Anne Sexton

#3. Only a few leaves of deep red remain on the otherwise bare limbs of the maples; the oak leaves are russet and wrinkled; briefly through the trees is the glimpse of the bay, flat and steel-gray today with the overcast November sky.

Elizabeth Strout

#4. 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

#5. Since my stroke, I have begun to see so many miracles all around me. I look out of the window in my room: verdant grass, silver-tipped oak leaves, tall palm trees gentle swaying as they reach to the sky, masses and masses of roses. All colors, so many shapes, exquisite fragrances.

Kirk Douglas

#6. Some men are like oak leaves
they don't know when they're dead, but still hang right on; and there are others who let go before anything has really touched them.

George Horace Lorimer

#7. Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.

Gladys Taber

#8. I have kind of a personality defect in that I find the word 'no' hard to articulate.

Mal Peet

#9. When I was asked to do something good, I often say yes, I'll try, yes, I'll do my best. And part of that is believing, if God loves me, if God made everything from leaves to seals and oak trees, then what is it I can't do?

Maya Angelou

#10. I've been in so many good movies that I felt like nobody saw; it's a pretty dreadful feeling.

Woody Harrelson

#11. Though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana solitary in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,
I know very well I could not."
- from "I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing

Walt Whitman

#12. The naysayers are not only casting doubt on science and nonbelievers; they are also ignoring the billions of non-conflicted believers around the world, dismissing their views as unworthy.

Bill Nye

#13. I'm a designer, not a businesswoman.

Georgina Chapman

#14. The thing about perfection is that it is unknowable, it's impossible, but its also right in front of us, all the time

Kevin Flynn

#15. Thinking about such things soothed the creature as it dug at the base of a tall oak tree, deep into the ground, covering itself with dirt and leaves and moss; hiding, healing, waiting.

Joe DeRouen

#16. Percy grunted. 'Probably something to do with that creep Octavian. Maybe he was so bad at telling the future that he broke Apollo's powers.

Rick Riordan

#17. When people are in the midst of really heavy stuff and still have a sense of humor, I admire that.

Ted Danson

#18. Our lonely, gray mothers became visitors to a world in which they had no share.

Jens Christian Grondahl

#19. We'd get out of it." She stared at the huge bell for a moment and then added, "I hate the sound of that bell." A gusty breeze rustled the leaves and threw a lock of hair in her face. She brushed it back and turned away from the oak and the bell. "Over there" - she pointed

Michael J. Sullivan

#20. Coda
Perhaps to love is to learn
to walk through this world.
To learn to be silent
like the oak and the linden of the fable.
To learn to see.
Your glance scattered seeds.
It planted a tree.
I talk
because you shake its leaves.

Octavio Paz

#21. 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

#22. Jenny threw back her head and laughed, laughter that rang out through the leaves if the oak tree above them. Jack pulled her to him, to kiss her and whisper her name again. And the oak tree above them whispered back, of love and sacrifice, of a king and a queen, and a future made anew.

Ruth Frances Long

#23. I think that timing is everything. At first, it was too soon. And then, the time was right, but I was busy with other things, and the cast was busy with other things. By the time we sat down to work on the movie, enough time had passed that suddenly a different story emerged.

Mitchell Hurwitz

#24. Winter's here, and you feel lousy: You're coughing and sneezing; your muscles ache; your nose is an active mucus volcano. These symptoms
so familiar at this time of year
can mean only one thing: Tiny fanged snails are eating your brain.

Dave Barry

#25. Everything is strange. Things are huge and very small. The stalks of flowers are thick as oak trees. Leaves are high as the domes of vast cathedrals. We are giants, lying here, who can make forests quiver.

Virginia Woolf

#26. There's always the feeling of getting stronger. I think that's what keeps me going.

Frank Shorter

#27. She had lived among those oak and pine trees when their roots grew deep beneath her and their leaves thick above. Now he lived among them, too, only he lived among them cut and dead.

Louise Erdrich

#28. Here and there on the branch of an oak a congress of leaves still clung, rigid as flakes of bronze.

Martha Ostenso

#29. Village life is like an ivy vine climbing a great oak. You cut off the vine at the root, and all the way up the tree, the leaves wither. We're all connected." For

Julie Klassen

#30. I like to have my characters talking in an up-to-date way, and I like their essentially modern self-awareness, which means we can have lots of irony and jokes.

Jonathan Stroud

#31. Have no fear," the voice told her, "for in thee lies the hope of all. Only thou can deliver the land from darkness."
"How can I?" she asked. "I am just one against so many."
The eyes gleamed behind the dappling leaves. "Yet the smallest acorn may become the tallest oak," came the answer.

Robin Jarvis

#32. Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak.

Susan Lendroth

#33. For my life, I confess to you, feels to me today somewhat narrow and circumscribed.

Kenneth Grahame

#34. Sigh for me, night-wind, in the noisy leaves of the oak. / I am tired. Sleep for me, heaven over the hill. / Shout for me, loudly and loudly, joyful sun, when you rise.

Wallace Stevens