Top Maple Quotes

Browse top 74 famous quotes and sayings about Maple by most favorite authors.

Favorite Maple Quotes

1. "Many caterpillars defend themselves not by striking fear in the hearts of their predators, but rather indifference. The large maple spanworm looks like a twig; the viceroy caterpillar looks like a bird dropping. This is not as exciting as looking like an anaconda, but when you are very small, and wingless, one of your main goals in life is to not be exciting. And speaking of unexciting—I think it is safe to say that woolly bears have one of the least advanced defense mechanisms among insects, although theirs is the reaction with which I most strongly identify: when distressed, the woolly bear rolls up into a ball."
Author: Amy Leach
2. "Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England."
Author: Archibald MacLeish
3. "It was evening and would be when I woke. No matter. From the maple tree the Red-tail spoke."
Author: Cameron Conaway
4. "When I go to the woods now, I always head out along the brook and go straight to the big maple. I run there, like Toby must have done on that stormy night, then I bend down and crawl on the earth. Because what if there's a clue? What if there's a piece of chunky strawberry bubble gum still bundled up in its waxy wrapper, or a weather-faded matchbook, or a fallen button from somebody's big gray coat? What if buried under all those leaves is me? Not this me, but the girl in a Gunne Sax dress with the back zipper open. The girl with the best boots in the world. What if she's under there? What if she's crying? Because she will be, if I find her. Her tears tell the story of what she knows. That the past, present, and future are just one thing. That there's nowhere to go from here. Home is home is home."
Author: Carol Rifka Brunt
5. "How do I let go of Maplewood? It's like Shangri-la. It's so culturally diverse, and all my children are adopted - a transracial family. And we're not the freaks. Everybody flies their freak flag high in Maplewood!"
Author: Christine Ebersole
6. "Leaf fans loyalty is unshakeable. The fans keep coming back and it hurts, I have been there. I have lost in game six to go to the finals with the Maple Leafs, against Carolina and what a great final that would have been."
Author: Curtis Joseph
7. "The rinsed foam swirled into one drain that always clogged come October when the maples dropped Canadian propaganda over everything."
Author: Daniel Handler
8. "I asked her, dreamily, if we had met, and when she told me that we had not, I gave her a little finger wave, the type a leprechaun might offer a pixie who was floating by on a maple leaf. "Well, hi there," I whispered."
Author: David Sedaris
9. "Hope wasn't a cottage industry; it was neither a product that she could manufacture like needlepoint samplers nor a substance she could secrete, in her cautious solitude, like a maple tree producing the essence of syrup. Hope was to be found in other people, by reaching out, by taking risks, by opening her fortress heart."
Author: Dean Koontz
10. "Our memories and the events of our lives are untidy things. We wish that we could file them away and shut the door, or we wish the opposite - that they would stay with us forever. You want to banish the remembrance of a tight hold on your ankle, a rope under a bed, the amber-colored medicine bottles of your father, the door your mother slams after a night of too much wine and jealousy. You want to keep close to you always that first sweet kiss, a maple leaf, that growing sense of yourself; you want to hold the sight of your dying father on that last boat trip, the calm you remember as your mother held you. Her voice."
Author: Deb Caletti
11. "We don't want you convicted for condiment theft. You go to that prison, you'll meet big-time operators. Maple syrup stealers."
Author: Deb Caletti
12. "Ox Cart ManIn October of the year,he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,counting the seed, countingthe cellar's portion out,and bags the rest on the cart's floor.He packs wool sheared in April, honeyin combs, linen, leathertanned from deerhide,and vinegar in a barrelhoped by hand at the forge's fire.He walks by his ox's head, ten daysto Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,and the bag that carried potatoes,flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goosefeathers, yarn.When the cart is empty he sells the cart.When the cart is sold he sells the ox,harness and yoke, and walkshome, his pockets heavywith the year's coin for salt and taxes,and at home by fire's light in November coldstitches new harnessfor next year's ox in the barn,and carves the yoke, and saws planksbuilding the cart again."
Author: Donald Hall
13. "A frustrated friend once told me that I couldn't comment on a new traffic light at Maple and Arkansas without starting with the Magna Carta. Explanations do indeed seem to seep backward in all directions. The hard part is keeping them under control and giving them some focus."
Author: Elliott West
14. "An alder tree can't become an oak at will. A maple can't pick up its roots like legs, and stride, step by powerful step, along the shore to find the sun. And everything that ever said otherwise--all those years of school, and the plays and moving pictures that promise you can be someone else, something more--they were all lies."
Author: Emily Whitman
15. "To me, the summer wind in the Midwest is one of the most melancholy things in all life. It comes from so far away and blows so gently and yet so relentlessly; it rustles the leaves and the branches of the maple trees in a sort of symphony of sadness, and it doesn't pass on and leave them still. It just keeps coming, like the infinite flow of Old Man River. You could -- and you do -- wear out your lifetime on the dusty plains with that wind of futility blowing in your face. And when you are worn out and gone, the wind -- still saying nothing, still so gentle and sad and timeless -- is still blowing across the prairies, and will blow in the faces of the little men who follow you, forever."
Author: Ernie Pyle
16. "A gentleman in those days consulted his heirs about tree planting. Should you plant a group of copper beeches against a group of white maples over against the ha-ha a quarter of a mile from the house so that the contrast seen from the ball-room windows should be agreeable—in thirty years' time? In those days thought, in families, went in periods of thirty years, owner gravely consulting heir who should see that development of light and shade that the owner never would."
Author: Ford Madox Ford
17. "For the author as for God, standing outwith his creation, all times are one; all times are now. In mine own country, we accept as due and right – as very meet, right, and our bounden duty – the downs and their orchids and butterflies, the woods and coppices, ash, beech, oak, and field maple, rowan, wild cherry, holly, and hazel, bluebells in their season and willow, alder, and poplar in the wetter ground. We accept as proper and unremarkable the badger and the squirrel, the roe deer and the rabbit, the fox and the pheasant, as the companions of our walks and days. We remark with pleasure, yet take as granted, the hedgerow and the garden, the riot of snowdrops, primroses, and cowslips, the bright flash of kingfishers, the dart of swallows and the peaceful homeliness of house martins, the soft nocturnal glimmer of glow worm and the silent nocturnal swoop of owl."
Author: G.M.W. Wemyss
18. "October's PartyOctober gave a party;The leaves by hundreds came -The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,And leaves of every name.The Sunshine spread a carpet,And everything was grand,Miss Weather led the dancing,Professor Wind the band."
Author: George Cooper
19. "Sugar maple!" Mary-Todd Holt knelt over her husband. "Are you all right?"Eisenhower sat up, and egg-size lump blooming on his crown. "Of course I'm all right!" he managed, his words slurred. "You think a little insect can stop me?"Reagan was unconvinced. "I don't know, Dad. She brained you with a baseball bat!""Hockey stick," Dan corrected."Those could be your last words, brat–"
Author: Gordon Korman
20. "A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground; its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isn't it strange? The saddest and deadest of things is yet so like the gayest and most vital of creatures?"
Author: Ivan Turgenev
21. "I had looked around. I'd seen all the things she'd spoken of and more besides. I'd seen a bear cub lift its face to the drenching spring rains. And the silver moon of winter, so high and blinding. I'd seen the crimson glory of a stand of sugar maples in autumn and the unspeakable stillness of a mountain lake at dawn. I'd seen them and loved them. But I'd also seen the dark of things. The starved carcasses of winter deer. The driving fury of a blizzard wind. And the gloom that broods under the pines always. Even on the brightest of days."
Author: Jennifer Donnelly
22. "...I see myself at crossroads in my life, mapless, lacking bits of knowledge - then, the Moon breaks through, lights up the path before me..."
Author: John Geddes
23. "...all winter the acorns and red Maple leaf moldered in silence - in the same way grief is gnawing at me - slowly, imperceptibly... consuming..."
Author: John Geddes
24. "Books fall from Garry Wills like leaves from a maple tree in a sort of permanent October."
Author: John Leonard
25. "Cigars, of course, are made of trail mix, of crushed cashews and Granola and raisins, soaked in maple syrup and dried in the sun. Why not eat one tonight at bedtime?"
Author: Kurt Vonnegut
26. "Anne was curled up Turk-fashion on the hearthrug, gazing into that joyous glow where the sunshine of a hundred summers was being distilled from the maple cordwood."
Author: L.M. Montgomery
27. "...raised herself on one round elbow and looked out on a tiny river like a gleaming blue snake winding itself around a purple hill. Right below the house was a field white as snow with daisies, and the shadow of the huge maple tree that bent over the little house fell lacily across it. Far beyond it were the white crests of Four Winds Harbour and a long range of sun-washed dunes and red cliffs."
Author: L.M. Montgomery
28. "Marilla, look at that big star over Mr. Harrison's maple grove, with all that hold hush of silvery sky about it. I gives me a feeling that is like a prayer. After all, when one can see stars and skies like that, little disappointments and accidents can't matter so much, can they?"
Author: L.M. Montgomery
29. "Anne reveled in the world of color about her."Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills?"
Author: L.M. Montgomery
30. "I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers."
Author: Leif Enger
31. "Maple thought optimistically that human beings, on their good days, weren't much dimmer than sheep. Or at least, not much dimmer than dim sheep."
Author: Leonie Swann
32. "VespersIn your extended absence, you permit meuse of earth, anticipatingsome return on investment. I must reportfailure in my assignment, principallyregarding the tomato plants.I think I should not be encouraged to growtomatoes. Or, if I am, you should withholdthe heavy rains, the cold nights that comeso often here, while other regions gettwelve weeks of summer. All thisbelongs to you: on the other hand,I planted the seeds, I watched the first shootslike wings tearing the soil, and it was my heartbroken by the blight, the black spot so quicklymultiplying in the rows. I doubtyou have a heart, in our understanding ofthat term. You who do not discriminatebetween the dead and the living, who are, in consequence,immune to foreshadowing, you may not knowhow much terror we bear, the spotted leaf,the red leaves of the maple fallingeven in August, in early darkness: I am responsiblefor these vines."
Author: Louise Glück
33. "The cicadas pierce the air with their searing one-note calls; dust eddies across the roads; from the weedy patches at the verges, grasshoppers whir. The leaves of the maples hang from their branches like limp gloves; on the sidewalk my shadow crackles."
Author: Margaret Atwood
34. "I admit that I treed a rheumatic grandfather of mine in the winter of 1850. He was old and inexpert in climbing trees, but with the heartless brutality that is characteristic of me I ran him out of the front door in his night-shirt at the point of a shotgun, and caused him to bowl up a maple tree, where he remained all night, while I emptied shot into his legs. I did this because he snored. I will do it again if I ever have another grandfather."
Author: Mark Twain
35. "Where'd that world go, that world when you're a kid, and now I can't remember noticing anything, not the smell of the leaves or the sharp curl of dried maple on your ankles, walking? I live in cars now, and my own bedroom, the windows sealed shut, my mouth to my phone, hand slick around its neon jelly case, face closed to the world, heart closed to everything."
Author: Megan Abbott
36. "It may also be that, quite apart from any specific references one food makes to another, it is the very allusiveness of cooked food that appeals to us, as indeed that same quality does in poetry or music or art. We gravitate towards complexity and metaphor, it seems, and putting fire to meat or fermenting fruit and grain, gives us both: more sheer sensory information and, specifically, sensory information that, like metaphor, points away from the here and now. This sensory metaphor - this stands for that - is one of the most important transformations of nature wrought by cooking. And so a piece of crisped pig skin becomes a densely allusive poem of flavors: coffee and chocolate, smoke and Scotch and overripe fruit and, too, the sweet-salty-woodsy taste of maple syrup on bacon I loved as a child. As with so many other things, we humans seem to like our food overdetermined."
Author: Michael Pollan
37. "My end goal in the piano is to play Scott Joplin's 'Maple Leaf Rag.'"
Author: Miranda Leek
38. "If it's not 100 per cent pure maple syrup, it can't be called 'pure maple syrup.'"
Author: Nancy Greene
39. "We're going to get a couple pretty, fluffy inches in the morning for a gorgeous December evening wedding. Go get ready for rehearsal." "I'm afraid of rehearsal. My voice is going to squeak. I think I'm getting a zit right in the middle of my chin. I'm going to trip coming down the aisle. It's okay if Carter trips. People expect it. But –" … "Carter isn't nervous. "Mac narrowed her eyes in a scowl. "I could hate him for that." "Mackensie." Parker turned from the computer. "I was in the kitchen this morning when Mrs. G made him sit down and eat some breakfast. He put maple syrup in his coffee." "He did?" She threw up her arms in a cheer. "He is nervous. I feel better."
Author: Nora Roberts
40. "Pedaling down the maple lined drive, quicksilver temper ebbed, her resilient spirits were lifted with the beauty of the day. The valley was stirring with life. Small clusters of fragile violets and red clover dotted the rolling meadows. Lines of fresh laundry waved in the early breeze. The boundary of mountains was tooped by a winter's coat, not yet the soft, lush green it would be in a month's time, but patched with stark black trees and the intermittent color of pines. Clouds scudded thin and white across the sky, chased by the teasing wind which whispered of spring and fresh blossoms."
Author: Nora Roberts
41. "The End of the Most Amazingest Trip in the History of Time "We're heading home after checkout, Enzo," Dad told me one morning in the restaurant of a Sacramento hotel as I was busy scarfing down French toast stuffed with cheese and drenched in maple syrup. I will never eat stuffed French toast again. The trip was over? How did this happen? All six weeks couldn't possibly have come and gone so fast. Time is so unfair. It whizzes by when you're having the most incredible fun of your life, then drags when you're totally miserable, like, say, when you're stuck at the wedding of people you're not even sure you know. Dad and his boss, Evan, set their hands on my shoulders, to steady me. I was feeling pretty wobbly. Then they took turns tousling my hair. I hate having my hair tousled. "Don't!" I whined like a little kid, and pushed their hands away. Evan laughed. "Don't take it so hard. Even the most awesome things have to come to an end"
Author: Patrick Jennings
42. "There she is, lying in front of me, smoking a cigarette, thinking of something or someone else. And that's how she is stuck in my mind forever.We are two explorers in the dark. Mapless and hopeless. Alone together."
Author: Pete Wentz
43. "Tell me again about the girl whose handshave no color. Whose hands are completelywhite. This time make them damned, oruntouched, or have her open a red umbrellaor point at some maple leaves and damnednear cry. Those hands. As freakish goes,I wish I had a tail. Maybe then you'd knowhow much I like you. It shakes me through,damn through. It shakes me. When she carriesa peacock feather. When she touches her neckor thighs. You're a person. It's not so bad.You have hands. You are a person with handsto hold things. Things you like. Tremendousthings. Tell me what you will hold today. Iknow there is room for everything. There is noneed to be ceremonious. Tell what gets let go."
Author: Rebecca Wadlinger
44. "The territory through which we passed had been overbuilt in the days over the Secular Ancients, but only a few traces of that exuberant time remained, and a whole forest had grown up since then, maple and birch and pine, its woody roots no doubt entwined with artifacts from the Efflorescence of Oil and with the bones of the artifacts' owners. What is the modern world, Julian once asked, but a vast Cemetery, reclaimed by nature? Every step we took reverberated in the skulls of our ancestors, and I felt as if there were centuries rather than soil beneath my feet."
Author: Robert Charles Wilson
45. "But truth be told, I'm not as dour-looking as I would like. I'm stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there's my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me 'Hon."
Author: Sarah Vowell
46. "Ma and God God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your fork."God gave us voices--Ma says, "Don't scream."Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Use your hanky."God gave us puddles--Ma says, "Don't splash."Ma says, "Be quiet, your father is sleeping."But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Put your gloves on."God gave us raindrops--Ma says, "Don't get wet."Ma says be careful, and don't get too near toThoses strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.God gave us fingers--Ma says, "Go wash 'em."But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.And I ain't too smart, but there's one thing for certain--Either Ma's wrong or else God is."
Author: Shel Silverstein
47. "And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart--a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there--and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples."
Author: Steven Millhauser
48. "She sat very still, listening to a stream gurgling, the breeze soughing through upper branches, the melodious kloo-klack of ravens, the nyeep-nyeep of nuthatches - all sounds chokingly beautiful. She felt she could hear the cool clean breath of growing things - fern fronds, maple leaves, white trillium petals, tree trunks, each in its rightful place."
Author: Susan Vreeland
49. "We are born to love as we are born to die, and between the heartbeats of those two great mysteries lies all the tangled undergrowth of our tiny lives. There is nowhere to go but through. And so we walk on, lost, and lost again, in the mapless wilderness of love."
Author: Tim Farrington
50. "NOW the final copper light of afternoon fades; now the street beyond the low maples and the low signboard is prepared and empty, framed by the study window like a stage."
Author: William Faulkner

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Golf without bunkers and hazards would be tame and monotonous. So would life."
Author: B. C. Forbes

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