November 13th, 2009


On Leaves -- Henry David Thoreau

"It is pleasant to walk over the beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves.

How beautifully they go to their graves! -- how gently they lay themselves down and turn to mould! -- painted of a thousand hues, and fit to make the beds of us living.

So they troop to their last resting-place, light and frisky."
    ~ Henry David Thoreau