Books fall from Garry Wills like leaves from a maple tree in a sort of permanent October.

In October, a maple tree before your window lights up your room like a great lamp. Even on cloudy days, its presence helps to dispel the gloom.

October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!

The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.

October proved a riot a riot to the senses and climaxed those giddy last weeks before Halloween.

Ye are the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch.