“A leaf, a star, a song, a laugh. Notice all the little things, because somebody is reaching out to you. Qualcuno ti ama. Somebody loves you.”

How many husbands were floating between life and death, clinging to their wives in this world? And how may millions and millions of people were there in the world like Charlie who wouldn’t let go of their loved ones when they’re gone?

There’s a reason for everything, you said, and though it’s a mystery to me now, I know it won’t always be so.

On the horizon, he saw the full moon. God dropped it there, he was sure, as a reminder of our small place in the world. A reminder that what is beautiful is fleeting.

That’s death and life, you see. We all shine on. You just have to release your hearts, alert your senses, and pay attention.

And I was even beginning to think home might be with you.

That is the inescapable math of tragedy and the multiplication of grief. Too many good people die a little when they lose someone they love.

There’s no such thing as a lost cause.

How many boys like him were out there in the ether, holding on to their big brothers and sisters who were still alive?

One death begets two or twenty or one hundred. It’s the same all over the world.

…like the 75 billion souls who lived before him, each and every one a treasure, he, too, will die.

In a critical sense, doing nothing can mean doing something. Inaction can be action and embracing this paradox can save your life.

Everytime the leaves are changing it’s the loneliest time of the year.

What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.

What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.

Tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!

What are the children of men, but as leaves that drop at the wind’s breath?

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars.

Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness like twin drums beating in the forest against the heavy wall of wet leaves.

A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles.