Blake pulled Livia close. "I'll miss the hell out of you," he whispered.
Livia leaned into his ticklish breath. "I'll never look at fall leaves the same way.
- Debra Anastasia
The pull toward him came from her center. Her eyes never left his face as she moved to her hands and knees. She crawled slowly over the blanket, the breakfast, his legs, until her hands rested on either side of his hips. His smile lifted only on one side. He took care to stay very still, but his mouth opened slightly as she approached. This close to Blake she could smell him. Fresh, sweet fall leaves and mint.
- Debra Anastasia
One Sunday, near the end of my time at St. Lucy's, the sisters gave me a special pass to go visit the parents.... We crunched through the fall leaves in silence, and every step made me sadder.
- Karen Russell
Fall leaves are brilliant with gold and red. You can cup them in your hand and wonder at them, be amazed at their uniqueness and glory. But eventually they are gone, brown, crumbling, scattered on the wind. But the tree remains. The tree is what is important. The tree lives on. That was a difficult knowledge to bear, and an even more difficult life to live. Of course, being the leaf wasn't exactly desirable either.
- Rob Thurman
Livia leaned into his ticklish breath. "I'll never look at fall leaves the same way.
- Debra Anastasia
The pull toward him came from her center. Her eyes never left his face as she moved to her hands and knees. She crawled slowly over the blanket, the breakfast, his legs, until her hands rested on either side of his hips. His smile lifted only on one side. He took care to stay very still, but his mouth opened slightly as she approached. This close to Blake she could smell him. Fresh, sweet fall leaves and mint.
- Debra Anastasia
One Sunday, near the end of my time at St. Lucy's, the sisters gave me a special pass to go visit the parents.... We crunched through the fall leaves in silence, and every step made me sadder.
- Karen Russell
Fall leaves are brilliant with gold and red. You can cup them in your hand and wonder at them, be amazed at their uniqueness and glory. But eventually they are gone, brown, crumbling, scattered on the wind. But the tree remains. The tree is what is important. The tree lives on. That was a difficult knowledge to bear, and an even more difficult life to live. Of course, being the leaf wasn't exactly desirable either.
- Rob Thurman
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