Best 3 259 of Flower quotes - MyQuotes
Change is a continuous process. You cannot assess it with the static yardstick of a limited time frame. When a seed is sown into the ground, you cannot immediately see the plant. You have to be patient. With time, it grows into a large tree. And then the flowers bloom, and only then can the fruits be plucked.
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla. 'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.' 'And our own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla.
I can grow cameras!" she had shrieked at the Brill brothers during one briefing. "Who's to say that despicable centaur Foaly hasn't succeded in splicing surveillance equiptment to plants? So get rid of all the flowers. Rocks, too. I don't trust them. Sullen little blebers.
Happy those early days when I Shined in my Angel-infancy. Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walked above A mile or two from my first love, And looking back (at that short space) Could see a glimpse of His bright face. When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Love is flower like; Friendship is like a sheltering tree.
Antoine De Saint-exupery
What have you come to Earth for?' 'I'm having difficulties with a flower,' the little prince said. 'Ah!' said the snake. And they were both silent.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea - What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?
Ralph Waldo Emerson
To the young mind every thing is individual, stands by itself. By and by, it finds how to join two things and see in them one nature; then three, then three thousand; and so, tyrannized over by its own unifying instinct, it goes on tying things together, diminishing anomalies, discovering roots running under ground whereby contrary and remote things cohere and flower out from one stem.
It’s easy to plant a seed and sprinkle it with water, but once the sun scorches the ground, and the earth soaks up all the moisture, you’re left with nothing but a thirsty little flower trying desperately to make it out of the dirt.
Nature's ways are wonderful and unfathomable. The grain swells in the soil, the sprout grows and flowers when the time comes and then it bears new fruit and so does not die. We are like grain. We never die because we are One with Nature. To understand this is to comprehend Immortality--the Apotheosis of the Human Race. It is with this conviction that I have lived my Life. My Life is a store of my experience, a Life of aspirations, sorrows, joys and triumphs.
I did not know the woman I would be nor that blood would bloom in me each month like an exotic flower, nor that children, two monuments, would break from between my legs.
One person's weed is another person's wildflower.
Be like a flower and turn your face to the sun.
Flowers are prettiest where they are watered the most.
If I am allowed to give a metaphorical allusion to the future state of the blessed, I should imagine it by the orange-grove in that sheltered glen on which the sun is now beginning to shine, and of which the trees are at the same time, loaded with sweet golden fruit and balmy silver flowers. Such objects may well portray a state in which hope and fruition become one eternal feeling.
Two years ago, I was saying as I planted seeds in the garden, "I must believe in these seeds, that they fall into the earth and grow into flowers and radishes and beans." It is a miracle to me because I do not understand it. The very fact that they use glib technical phrases does not make it any less a miracle, and a miracle we all accept. Then why not accept God's miracles?
Virginia C. Andrews
It is so appropriate to color hope yellow, like the sun we seldom saw. And as I begin to copy from the old memorandum journals that I kept for so long, a title comes as if inspired. 'Open the Window and Stand in the Sunshine.' Yet, I hesitate to name our story that. For I think of us more as flowers in the attic.
There's a flame of magic inside every stone & every flower, every bird that sings & every frog that croaks. There's magic in the trees & the hills & the river & the rocks, in the sea & the stars & the wind, a deep, wild magic that's as old as the world itself. It's in you too, my darling girl, and in me, and in every living creature, be it ever so small. Even the dirt I'm sweeping up now is stardust. In fact, all of us are made from the stuff of stars.
Artificial intelligence has the same relation to intelligence as artificial flowers have to flowers.
True variety is in that plenitude of real and unexpected elements, in the branch charged with blue flowers thrusting itself, against all expectations, from the springtime hedge which seems already too full, while the purely formal imitation of varietyis but void and uniformity, that is, that which is most opposed to variety.
Transitions are a part of life, allowing for perpetual renewal. When you experience the end of one chapter, allow yourself to feel the emotions of loss and rebirth. A bud gives way to a new flower, which surrenders to the fruit, which gives rise to a seed, which yields a new sprout. Even as you ride the roller coaster, embrace the centered internal reference of the ever-present witness.
My heart is a flower blossoming out of my mouth.
A flower doesn't lose its beauty because weeds mocked it.
One who loves roses cannot avoid its thorns.
William E. Gladstone
All the wonders of the Greek civilization heaped together are less wonderful than the single book of Psalms. Greece had all that this world could give her; but the flowers of Paradise blossomed in Palestine alone.
The miracle of your being cannot escape itself. Your thoughts blossom into events. Your beliefs grow as surely in time and space as flowers do.
Colour is the ultimate in art. It is still and will always remain a mystery to us, we can only apprehend it intuitively in flowers.
As a plant produces its flower, so the psyche creates its symbols.
Buttercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours. When the trees are leafless; When the fields are bare; Buttercups and daisies Spring up here and there.
The tear, down childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
The wild-flower wreath of feeling, the sunbeam of the heart.
Love Has a way of wilting Or blossoming At the strangest, Most unpredictable hour. This is how love is, An uncontrollable beast In the form of a flower.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather.
Christopher Paul Curtis
A bud is a flower-to-be. A flower in waiting. Waiting for just the right warmth and care to open up. It's a little fist of love waiting to unfold and be seen by the world. And that's you.
In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.
I'm right here right now and I want now to be the Golden Age ...if only each generation would realize that the time for greatness is right now when they're alive ... the time to flower is now.
Watch the indolent butterfly playing on the tall flower in the yard and think about the sun going down. It always does you know.
There is not one pink flower, or even fifty pink flowers, but hundreds. Snowflakes, of course, are the ultimate exercise in sheer creative glee. No two alike. This creator looks suspiciously like someone who just might send us support for our creative ventures.
George Augustus Henry Sala
The future is always fairyland to the young. Life is like a beautiful and winding lane, on either side bright flowers, and beautiful butterflies and tempting fruits, which we scarcely pause to admire and to taste, so eager are we to hasten to an opening which we imagine will be more beautiful still. But by degrees, as we advance, the trees grow bleak; the flowers and butterflies fail, the fruits disappear, and we find we have arrived--to reach a desert waste.
Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.
One flower may slay the winter and meet death.
Memphis—it’s just a bird. Birds fly around, brother. It’s what they do. It’s not following you, and it’s not a sign. Unless you really did give it candy and flowers, in which case you are one strange brother.
Neale Donald Walsch
Must you know that yours will be the “better” picture before you pick up the brush and paint? Can it not simply be another picture? Another expression of beauty? Must a rose be “better” than an iris in order to justify it’s existence? I tell you this: you are all flowers in the Garden of the Gods.
It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.
But look around at this world, how perfectly it's made. Flowers can't move, yet the insects come to them and spread their pollen. Trees can't move either, but birds and animals eat their fruit and carry their seeds far and wide.
This is the divine moment when we can hold the fairest blossom of spring in one hand and the sweetest flowers of early summer in the other.
William Carlos Williams
Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end — of roses It is at the edge of the petal that love waits.
Michael Joseph Oakeshott
Poetry is a sort of truancy, a dream within the dream of life, a wild flower planted among our wheat.
Niké, après quelques minutes d’escalade, abandonna la compétition pour admirer les fleurs sauvages qui diapraient la montagne comme une mosaïque. …Si elle tressait une guirlande ? Elle leva vers Nicias, qui continuait l’ascension, son visage lisse comme une olive, ou brillait un regard malicieux : — Quand tu seras en haut, ne t’envole pas ! Le garçon s’arrêta : — Tu ne joues plus ? — Je préfère cueillir des fleurs pour Artémis. — La statue de la déesse ? — Oui. Sur le mont Mangone, giroflées, asphodèles, mauves, géraniums, œillets, marjolaines, absinthes, croissaient à plaisir. L’air surchauffé entêtait comme une cassolette. Niké, les bras surchargés, pensa : « Ce n’est pas étonnant que les chiens perdent la trace du gibier quand ils sont en montagne… » Elle hésita à cueillir les ombelles du sélinon en pensant que la plante sécrétait un suc qui était un poison pour les oiseaux. Or, Artémis trônait dans un bois où chardonnerets, pinsons et serins étaient nombreux. S’ils allaient picorer la guirlande ? La fillette renonça au léger nuage des ombelles pour lui préférer une touffe de silènes d’un rose d’aurore. La guirlande devenait ravissante.