Joe L. Wheeler famous quotes

There is something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.
-- Joe L. Wheeler

#Autumn #Nostalgic #Significant

Time remorselessly rambles down the corridors and streets of our lives. but it is not until autumn that most of us become aware that our tickets are stamped with a terminal destination.
-- Joe L. Wheeler

#Autumn #Tickets #Destination

Love may precede respect but it cannot survive the loss of it.
-- Joe L. Wheeler

#Loss #May

Man's glory lies not, Lincoln thought, in 'his goodness,' for this is often nonexistent. He derives glory, instead, from his being made in the image of the Living God.
-- Joe L. Wheeler

#Lying #Men #Glory

Lincoln grew immeasurably as he came to think of himself as an “instrument of God's will.
-- Joe L. Wheeler

#Thinking #Instruments #Grew

Uneasily the leaves fall at this season, forgetting what to do or where to go; the red amnesiacs of autumn drifting thru the graveyard forest. What they have forgotten they have forgotten: what they meant to do instead of fall is not in earth or time recoverable the fossils of intention, the shapes of rot.

A life is a moment in season. A life is one snowfall. A life is one autumn day. A life is the delicate, rapid edge of a closing door's shadow. A life is a brief movement of arms and of legs.

In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves bestrew the road, and you can feel the breath of winter, morning and evening - no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and with such a reverent meekness in the air.

Let whoever wants to, relax in the south, And bask in the garden of paradise. Here is the essence of north—and it's autumn I've chosen as this year's friend.

Deep inside, we're still the boys of autumn, that magic time of the year that once swept us onto America's fields.

The gray-green stretch of sandy grass,Indefinitely desolate;A sea of lead, a sky of slate;Already autumn in the air, alas!One stark monotony of stone,The long hotel, acutely white,Against the after-sunset lightWithers gray-green, and takes the grass's tone.

I began a lifelong affair with nostalgia, with only the vaguest notions of what I was nostalgic for.

I'm terribly nostalgic, but I'm with the Elizabethans who thought nostalgia was a disease. It's a dangerous place to be because you can get caught up in it.

Every significant artist is a metaphysician, a propounder of beauty-truths and form-theories.

The process by which civilization, as an abstract entity distinct from the societies in which it is embodied, dies or is reborn is a very significant one.