“...all winter the acorns and red Maple leaf moldered in silence - in the same way grief is gnawing at me - slowly, imperceptibly... consuming...”
“As the red leaf warns: winter will be with us soon enough. If only I could bottle a little of this sunshine up and open it in January, like jam”
“I moved forward in the trace of their footsteps as in a waking dream where the scent of a newly blown poppy is no longer a perfume but a blossoming: where the deep red of a maple leaf in autumn is no longer a colour but a grace; where a country is no longer a place but a lullaby.”
“As a moth gnaws a garment, so doth envy consume a [person].”
“He is no longer mine to lose, but the grief is there, a gnawing sense of disbelief.”
“Roses are red and violets are purple,sugar is sweet and so is maple surple.”