Best 33 of Vanessa Diffenbaugh quotes - MyQuotes

Follow
Vanessa Diffenbaugh
By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

I’m talking about the language of flowers. It’s from the Victorian era, like your name. If a man gave a young lady a bouquet of flowers, she would race home and try to decode it like a secret message. Red roses mean love; yellow roses infidelity. So a man would have to choose his flowers carefully.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

If it was true that moss did not have roots, and maternal love could grow spontaneously, as if from nothing, perhaps I had been wrong to believe myself unfit to raise my daughter. Perhaps the unattached, the unwanted, the unloved, could grow to give love as lushly as anyone else.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

This time, there was no escape, I could not turn away, could not leave without accepting what I had done. There was only one way to the other side, and that was through the pain.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

She was perfect. I knew this the moment she emerged from my body, white and wet and wailing. Beyond the requisite ten fingers and ten toes, the beating heart, the lungs inhaling and exhaling oxygen, my daughter knew how to scream. She knew how to make herself heard. She knew how to reach out and latch on. She knew what she needed to do to survive. I didn’t know how it was possible that such perfection could have developed within a body as flawed as my own, but when I looked into her face, I saw that it clearly was.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Your behavior is a choice; it isn’t who you are.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

These flowers are starwort," she said. "Starwort means 'welcome.' By giving you a bouquet of starwort, I'm welcoming you to my home, to my life." She twirled buttery pasta on her fork and looked into my eyes without a glimmer of humor. "They look like daisies to me," I said. "And I still think they're poisonous." "They aren't poisonous, and they aren't daisies. See how they only have five petals but it looks like they have ten? Each pair of petals is connected in the center." Picking up the small bouquet of flowers, I examined the little white bundle. The petals grew together before attaching to the stem, so that each petal was the shape of a heart. "That's a characteristic of the genus 'Stellaria,'" Elizabeth went on, when she could see that I understood. "Daisy is a common name, and spans many different families, but the flowers we call daisies typically have more petals, and each petal grows separate from the others. It's important to know the difference or you may confuse the meaning. Daisy means 'innocence', which is a very different sentiment than 'welcome.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Nothing you could do would make me send you away. Nothing.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

The open forgiveness in her eyes, the uncensored love, terrified me.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

There was only one way to the other side, and that was through the pain.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Mistletoe. I surmount all obstacles.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

At the end of each day, Elizabeth read to me. She had shelves and shelves of children's classics, dusty hardcovers with stamped gold titles: 'The Secret Garden', 'Pollyanna', and 'A Tree Grows in Brooklyn'. But I preferred her viticulture textbooks, the illustrations of plants and chemical equations clues to the world that surrounded me. I memorized vocabulary- nitrate leaching, carbon sequestration, integrated pest management- and used them in casual conversation with a seriousness that made Elizabeth laugh.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

For eight years I dreamed of fire. Trees ignited as I passed them; oceans burned. The sugary smoke settled in my hair as I slept, the scent like a cloud left on my pillow as I rose. Even so, the moment my mattress started to burn, I bolted awake. The sharp, chemical smell was nothing like the hazy syrup of my dreams; the two were as different as Carolina and Indian jasmine, separation and attachment. They could not be confused. Standing in the middle of the room, I located the source of the fire. A neat row of wooden matches lined the foot of the bed. They ignited, one after the next, a glowing picket fence across the piped edging. Watching them light, I felt a terror unequal to the size of the flickering flames, and for a paralyzing moment I was ten years old again, desperate and hopeful in a way I had never been before and never would be again. But the bare synthetic mattress did not ignite like the thistle had in late October. It smoldered, and then the fire went out. It was my eighteenth birthday.

By Anonym 14 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Perhaps the unattached, the unwanted, the unloved, could grow to give love as lushly as anyone else.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

What're you reading?" "Gertrude Stein." I shook my head. I'd never heard of her. "The poet?" he asked. "You know, 'A rose is a rose is a rose'?" I shook my head again. "During the last year of her life, my mother became obsessed with her," Grant said. "She'd spent most of her life reading the Victorian poets, and when she found Gertrude Stein, she told me she was a comfort." "What does she mean, 'A rose is a rose is a rose'?" I asked. Snapping the biology book shut, I was confronted with the skeleton of a human body. I tapped the empty eye socket. "That things just are what they are," he said. " 'A rose is a rose.' " " 'Is a rose,' " he finished, smiling faintly. I thought about all the roses in the garden below, their varying shades of color and youth. "Except when it's yellow," I said. "Or red, or pink, or unopened, or dying." "That's what I've always thought," said Grant. "But I'm giving Ms. Stein the opportunity to convince me.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Her eyes were open, taking in my tired face... Her face twitched into what looked like a squinty smile, and in her wordless expression I saw gratitude, and relief, and trust. I wanted, desperately, not to disappoint her.

By Anonym 20 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

While I worked, I thought about Earl's wife, tried to bring forth an image of the once-passionate woman: her tired, withdrawn, unsuspecting face. Would she react to the wild bouquet of mums and periwinkle, truth and tender recollections? I felt sure she would, and imagined the relief and gratitude on Earl's face as he boiled water for tea, provoking the opinionated woman he had missed into a discussion of politics or poetry.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Over time, we would learn each other, and I would learn to love her like a mother loves a daughter, imperfectly and without roots.

By Anonym 20 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

When my hunger grew to the point of distraction, I climbed onto buses and rode to the Marina, Fillmore Street, or Pacific Heights. I toured high-end delis, lingering at polished marble countertops and sampling an olive, a slice of Canadian bacon, or a sliver of Havarti. I asked the questions Elizabeth would have asked: which olive oils are unfiltered; exactly how "fresh" was the albacore, the salmon, the sole; how sweet were the season's first blood oranges?

By Anonym 17 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Lui la abbracciò stretta, e quando lei cominciò a tremare, per il freddo o il pianto o entrambi, la avvolse nella coperta e la strinse a sè ancora di più. Per la prima volta, rimpianse profondamente la sua decisione, si pentì di averla lasciata ad affrontare il liceo da sola, mentre avrebbe potuto essere al suo fianco. Non l'aveva mai considerata debole perché non lo era, ma era vulnerabile e lui l'aveva abbandonata.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Now, as an adult, my hopes for the future were simple: I wanted to be alone, and to be surrounded by flowers. It seemed, finally, that I might get exactly what I wanted.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Anyone can grow into something beautiful.

By Anonym 13 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Hate can be passionate or disengaged; it can come from dislike but also from fear.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

The relentlessness with which these women tried to repair their relationships was foreign to me; I didn’t understand why they didn’t simply give up.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

The rapid growth of Message- combined with an outpouring of florists offering consultations in the language of flowers to the streams of brides Marlena and I turned away- caused a subtle but concrete shift in the Bay Area flower industry. Marlena reported that peony, marigold, and lavender lingered in their plastic buckets at the flower market while tulips, lilac, and passionflower sold out before the sun rose. For the first time anyone could remember, jonquil became available long after its natural bloom season had ended. By the end of July, bold brides carried ceramic bowls of strawberries or fragrant clusters of fennel, and no one questioned their aesthetics but rather marveled at the simplicity of their desire. If the trajectory continued, I realized, Message would alter the quantities of anger, grief, and mistrust growing in the earth on a massive scale. Farmers would uproot fields of foxglove to plant yarrow, the soft clusters of pink, yellow, and cream the cure to a broken heart. The prices of sage, ranunculus, and stock would steadily increase. Plum trees would be planted for the sole purpose of harvesting their delicate, clustered blossoms and sunflowers would fall permanently out of fashion, disappearing from flower stands, craft stores, and country kitchens. Thistle would be cleared compulsively from empty lots and overgrown gardens.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

The more I read, the more I felt my understanding of the universe slip away from me. Columbine symbolized both 'desertion' and 'folly'; poppy, 'imagination' and 'extravagance'. The almond blossom, listed as 'indiscretion' in Elizabeth's dictionary, appeared in others as 'hope' and occasionally 'thoughtlessness'. The definitions were not only different, they were often contradictory. Even common thistle- the staple of my communication- appeared as 'misanthropy' only when it wasn't defined as 'austerity'.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

Sitting under a tree, I studied my options. The fall flowers were in full bloom: verbena, goldenrod, chrysanthemum, and a late-blooming rose. The carefully tended city beds around the park held layers of textured evergreen but little color. I set to work, considering height, density, texture, and layers of scent, removing touch-damaged petals with careful pinches. When I had finished, spiraling white mums emerged from a cushion of snow-colored verbena, and clusters of pale climbing roses circled and dripped over the edge of a tightly wrapped nosegay. I removed every thorn. The bouquet was white as a wedding and spoke of prayers, truth, and an unacquainted heart.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

I studied the way the individual flowers clustered around the single stalk, their sharp points fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Something about the configuration of the petals made me believe that forgiveness should come naturally, but in this family, it hadn't. I thought about the decades of misunderstandings, from the yellow rose to the fire, the thwarted attempts at forgiving and being forgiven.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanessa Diffenbaugh

I believe you can prove everyone wrong, too, Victoria. Your behavior is a choice; it isn't who you are.