pandemo (pandemo) wrote,
pandemo
pandemo

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
Tags: quotation
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