Best 3 259 of Flower quotes - MyQuotes
I've named a couple things after Edgar Allan Poe: the cat, and my garden upstate, where I only planted black flowers and purple flowers - and there's a raven statue.
The Primrose for a veil had spread The largest of her upright leaves; And thus for purposes benign, A simple flower deceives.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Once in a golden hour, I cast to earth a seed, And up there grew a flower, That others called a weed.
For the Infinite has sowed his name in the heavens in burning stars, but on the earth He has sowed his name in tender flowers.
Never did form more fairy thread the dance Than she who scours the hills to find it flowers; Never did sweeter lips chained ears entrance Than hers that move, true to its striking hours; No hands so white e'er decked the warrior's lance, As those which tend its lamp as darkness lours; And never since dear Christ expired for man, Had holy shrine so fair a sacristan.
I've been sleeping through my life Now I'm waking up And I want to stand in the sunshine I have never been ecstatic Had a flower but it never bloomed In the darkness of my wasted youth It was hiding in the shadows Learning to become invisible Uncover me
Like a child standing in a beautiful park with his eyes shut tight, there's no need to imagine trees, flowers, deer, birds, and sky; we merely need to open our eyes and realize what is already here, who we already are - as soon as we stop pretending we're small or unholy.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
If you are unknown, you can work better! Deserted soils of the mountains create the most beautiful flowers!
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.
Wherever I go, and whoever I encounter, I will bring them a gift. The gift may be a compliment, a flower, or a prayer. Today, I will give something to everyone I come into contact with, and so I will begin the process of circulating joy, wealth and affluence in my life and in the lives of others.
Thanks to the gods I didn't spend much time while growing up with my grandfather's mistress and preserved the flower of my youth, waiting for the proper time to demonstrate my virility.
You know how some people seem to think that their love for classical music makes them spiritual or at least something quite special? And others who think you are a monster if you don't 'love children,' however obnoxious the children may be? Well, I found out that many people who love flowers look down on those who don't.
Stretching his hand up to reach the stars, too often man forgets the flowers at his feet.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
You are me, and I am you. Isn't it obvious that we "inter-are"? You cultivate the flower in yourself, so that I will be beautiful. I transform the garbage in myself, so that you will not have to suffer.
Just as the bee takes the nectar and leaves without damaging the color or scent of the flowers, so should the sage act in a village.
Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth Happy who walks with him!
Marilyn Vos Savant
Loving behavior contributes to the group at the expense of the individual. Competition contributes to the survival of the individual at the expense of the group. In the garden of life, some people are more like flowers, and other people are more like weeds.
Things that influence me are my kids, their happiness, colorfulness, and vitality. My husband - he comes up with some great quotes and ideas. God - He is the Ultimate artist. And what I see around me - flowers, leaves, trees, birds, fruit, vegetables.
A rose does not lose sleep because it was mocked by weeds.
Tipani flower skies blazing rapture of color laced tree crowns silhouettes along the ocean diamond necklaced beach...of my heart in fragrance of love spilled by caressing kisses of the sun opening the gates to dive deep through away to horizons with no return...
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
There is a wonderful place where flowers grow in colors beyond the words of poets... trees sing with the songs of butterflies. And mythical tigresses look at you with fiery golden eyes... open your heart and feel the colors of magic blooming inside you.
Silent as a flower, her face fell in dismay, aware that the ghost of lust ate and left, sensing that there was a different scent of perfume consuming the room, and that she had numbered and counted the he loves me, he loves me not of each petal, where the lifeless dust had settle.
That quest for something pretty. A cheat. A cliche. Flowers and Christmas lights, it's what we're programmed to love.
All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like women too.
The color white is a blank canvas, just waiting to be written on. Compared to other more stimulating colors it is a refreshing change, a soothing and calm visual experience for the mind, which allows for imagination growth and creativity.
Where did love begin?What human being looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary,dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I love you? In the fossil record of our existence, there is no trace of love. You cannot find it held in the earth's crust, waiting to be discovered. The long bones of our ancestors show nothing of their hearts.
A passion for flowers, is, I think, the only one which long sickness leaves untouched with its chilling influence.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Sing a song of seasons; something bright in all, flowers in the summer, fires in the fall.
Everyone wants to understand art. Why not try to understand the song of a bird? Why does one love the night, flowers, everything around one, without trying to understand them? But in the case of a painting people have to understand. If only they would realize above all that an artist works of necessity, that he himself is only a trifling bit of the world, and that no more importance should be attached to him than to plenty of other things which please us in the world, though we can't explain them. People who try to explain pictures are usually barking up the wrong tree.
What should I take? Something that will not be missed. In the wood at midnight, a magic flower.
Deep within the self is the Light of God. It radiates throughout the expanse of His creation. Through the Guru's teachings, the darkness of spiritual ignorance is dispelled. The heart lotus flower blooms forth and eternal peace is obtained, as one's light merges into the Supreme Light.
Why do some people always see beautiful skies and grass and lovely flowers and incredible human beings, while others are hard-pressed to find anything or any place that is beautiful?
Happy indeed is the naturalist: to him the seasons come round like old friends; to him the birds sing: as he walks along, the flowers stretch out from the hedges, or look up from the ground, and as each year fades away, he looks back on a fresh store of happy memories.
Francesca Lia Block
the rain is coming. little sister, the night broke. the thunder cracked my brain finally. the rain is coming, i promise you. i didn’t mean to but your tears will bring life back. purple flowers grow, the colour blood looks in the veins. they’ll sprout out of my chest. i promise you they’ll crack the ground, grow over the freeways, down the slopes to the sea. i’ll be in their faces. i’ll be in the waves, coming down from the sky. i’ll be inside the one who holds you. and then i won’t be.
Three things see no end- A flower blighted ere it bloomed, A message that was wasted, And a journey that was doomed.
Man corrupt everything, say Shug. He on your box of grits, in your head, and all over the radio. He try to make you think he everywhere. Soon as you think he everywhere, you think he God. But he ain't. Whenever you trying to pray, and man plop himself on the other end of it, tell him to git lost, say Shug. Conjure up the flowers, wind, water, a big rock.
B. C. Forbes
Thomas Edison reads not for entertainment but to increase his store of knowledge. He sucks in information as eagerly as the bee sucks honey from flowers. The whole world, so to speak, pours its wisdom into his mind. He regards it as a criminal waste of time to go through the slow and painful ordeal of ascertaining things for one's self if these same things have already been ascertained and made available by others. In Edison's mind knowledge is power.
The mind is like a fertile garden in which anything that is planted, flowers or weeds, will grow.
The radiance in some places is so great as to be fairly dazzling... every crystal, every flower a window opening into heaven, a mirror reflecting the Creator.
It is necessary to reteach a thing its loveliness, to put a hand on its brow of the flower and retell it in words and in touch it is lovely until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.
Decades have a delusive edge to them. They are not, of course, really periods at all, except as any other ten years may be. But we, looking at them, are caught by the different name each bears, and give them different attributes, and tie labels on them, as if they were flowers in a border.
The Herbs ought to be distilled when they are in their greatest vigor, and so ought the Flowers also.
When you have done your best for a flower, and it fails, you have some reason to be aggrieved.
Our times might emphasize equality, which we then mistake for the need for everyone to be the same, but what we really mean by this is the equal chance for people to express their differences, to let a thousand flowers bloom.
When I listen to love, I am listening to my true nature. When I express love, I am expressing my true nature. All of us love. All of us do it more and more perfectly. The past has brought us both ashes and diamonds. In the present we find the flowers of what we've planted and the seeds of what we are becoming. I plant the seeds of love in my heart. I plant the seeds of love in the hearts of others.
He thinks he is a flower to be looked at And when he pulls his frilly nylon pants right up tight He feels a dedicated follower of fashion. When a waiter at Buckingham Palace spilled soup on her dress: Never darken my Dior again!
Every moment of this strange and lovely life from dawn to dusk, is a miracle. Somewhere, always a rose is opening its petals to the dawn. Somewhere, always, a flower is fading in the dusk.