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'ever seen a leaf - a leaf from a tree?' 'yes.' i saw one recently - a yellow one, a little green, wilted at the edges. blown by the wind. when i was a little boy, i used to shut my eyes in winter and imagine a green leaf, with veins on it, and the sun shining ...' 'what's this - an allegory?' "no; why? not an allegory - a leaf, just a leaf. a leaf is good. everything's good.'

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

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'ever Seen A Leaf - A Leaf

Fyodor Dostoevsky

'ever seen a leaf - a leaf from a tree?' 'yes.' i saw one recently - a yellow one, a little green, wilted at the edges. blown by the wind. when i was a little boy, i used to shut my eyes in winter and imagine a green leaf, with veins on it, and the sun shining ...' 'what's this - an allegory?' "no; why? not an allegory - a leaf, just a leaf. a leaf is good. everything's good.'

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    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"&#039;ever seen a leaf - a leaf from a tree?&#039; &#039;yes.&#039; i saw one recently - a yellow one, a little green, wilted at the edges. blown by the wind. when i was a little boy, i used to shut my eyes in winter and imagine a green leaf, with veins on it, and the sun shining ...&#039; &#039;what&#039;s this - an allegory?&#039; &quot;no; why? not an allegory - a leaf, just a leaf. a leaf is good. everything&#039;s good.&#039;"</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— Fyodor Dostoevsky</footer>
    <p style="margin-top: 15px; font-size: 0.85rem;"><a href="https://www.pjdigitalmarketing.com/quote/ever-seen-a-leaf-a-leaf-from-a-tree-yes-zyr53" style="color: #8b5cf6; text-decoration: none;">View this quote on Www.pjdigitalmarketing.com</a></p>
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Eye Winter Boys

More From Fyodor Dostoevsky

We all know of course, that we should never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever fiddle around in any way with electrical equipment. never.

It's no fun to be yellow. maybe i'm not all yellow. i don't know. i think maybe i'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn if they lose their gloves. one of my troubles is, i never care too much when i lose something - it used to drive mother crazy when i was a kid. some guys spend days looking for something they've lost. i never seem to have anything that if i lost it i'd care too much. maybe that's why i'm partly yellow. it's no excuse, though. it really isn't. what you should be is not yellow at all.

Christians, of all people, should not be destroyers. we should treat nature with an overwhelming respect. we may cut down a tree to build a house, or to make a fire to keep the family warm. but we should not cut down the tree just to cut down the tree. we may, if necessary, bark the cork tree in order to have the use of the bark. but what we should not do is to bark the tree simply for the sake of doing so, and let it dry and stand there a dead skeleton in the wind. to do so is not to treat the tree with integrity.

It is not the high summer alone that is god's. the winter also is his. and into his winter he came to visit us. and all man's winters are his - the winter of our poverty, the winter of our sorrow, the winter of our unhappiness - even 'the winter of our discontent.

My daddy's face is a study. winter moves into it and presides there. his eyes become a cliff of snow threatening to avalanche, his eyebrows bend like black limbs of leafless trees. his skin takes on the pale cheerless yellow of winter sun; for a jaw he has the edges of a snowbound field dotted with stubble; his high forehead is the frozen sweep of the erie.

I was wondering about my eyes; one of my eyes--the left--saw everything golden and yellow and orange, and the other eye saw shades of blue and grey and green; perhaps one eye was for daylight and the other was for night. if everyone in the world saw different colors from different eyes there might be a great many new colors still to be invented.

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Somewhere, on the long road that wound through those four years, the girl with her sachet & dancing slippers had slipped away & there was left a woman with sharp green eyes, who counted pennies & turned her hands to many menial tasks, a woman to whom nothing was left from the wreckage except the indestructible red earth on which she stood.

Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to snape, and his eyes were full of tears. "after all this time?" "always," said snape.

The highest exercise of imagination is not to devise what has no existence, but rather to perceive what really exists, though unseen by the outward eye-not creation, but insight.

"we see the world as 'we' are, not as 'it' is; because it is the "i" behind the 'eye' that does the seeing."

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