“The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark”
“The tree leaves rustled like that noise e-books make when you turn the page.”
“I felt so lonesome I most wished I was dead. The stars were shining, and the leaves rustled in the woods ever so mournful; and I heard an owl, away off, who-whooing about somebody that was dead, and a whippowill and a dog crying about somebody that was going to die;”
“It seems to leave the darkness rather blacker than before.”
“Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, lost souls mourn beauty, insignificance surrounds us. Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends, one hears the wind outside, autumn leaves rustle and take flight, the cat sleeps in a warm pool of light. And, with each swallow, time is sublimed.”
“Death always leaves one singer to mourn.”