Best 3249 quotes in «flower quotes» category

When you hire a person to plan your wedding, this does not include securing the groom. Plan to get married on Friday the 13th. In years to come this will make it much easier to explain why things turned out badly. To look beautiful at your wedding, take time to plan it. It took me a long time to find two ugly bridesmaids and a frumpy little flower girl.

When you have done your best for a flower, and it fails, you have some reason to be aggrieved.

When you like a flower, you just pluck it. But when you love a flower, you water it daily.

When you really want to show some love, keep the flowers and say it with spaghetti.

When you recognize the sacredness, the beauty, the incredible stillness and dignity in which a flower or a tree exists, you add something to the flower or the tree. Through your recognition, your awareness, nature too comes to know itself. It comes to know its own beauty and sacredness through you.

When you're humble it's like wearing a beautiful flower. It inspires others. It generates energy and power.

When you're surrounded by flowers, you breath better.

When you see the flower of happiness on your way, don't take it immediately; sit and watch it and realise how rare it is!

When your witnessing is ninety percent, your mind is reduced to ten percent. And when your witnessing is one hundred percent - total, absolute - the screen is empty, the film has disappeared. This is the state of meditation: when there are no thoughts, no feelings - nothing moves, everything stops. There is tremendous serenity. Out of this serenity, silence, peace, a new kind of experience arises, new flowers blossom.

When you take your step your dream comes true,you see the sky with fluffy clouds you take your breath-the flowers bloom you belth your way to the top of the mountain you see the sky it leaves you nothing but bumps the rain comes down the lighting hits you are the thunder and Im your lighting just deal with everything Naturally.

When you wear the weed of impatience in your heart instead of the flower Acceptance-with-Joy, you will always find your enemies get an advantage over you.

Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

Where have all the flowers gone

Where flowers bloom so does hope.

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.

Where has thou been all the dumb winter days When neither sunlight was nor smile of flowers, Neither life, nor love, nor frolic, Only expanse melancholic, With never a note of thy exhilarating lays?

Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.

Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day and night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and space, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust. Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your palpitating heart. The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother- dust.

Where roads are made I lose my way.In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track.The pathway is hidden by the birds' wings, by the star-fires, by the flowers of the wayfaring seasons.And I ask my heart if its blood carries the wisdom of the unseen way.

Wherever God has planted you, you must know how to flower - translated from a French saying

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.

Where the most beautiful wild flowers grow, there mans spirit is fed and poets grow.

Wherever men are noble, they love bright colour; and wherever they can live healthily, bright colour is given them—in sky, sea, flowers, and living creatures.

Whether the flower looks better in the nosegay than in the meadow where it grew and we had to wet our feet to get it! Is the scholastic air any advantage?

Whether you are cooking, cleaning house, or planting flowers, try to concentrate on the textures, the smells, colors, tastes, sounds, all Zen moments of focused joy.

While Maddox now believed the demon did not want to hurt Ashlyn, he wasn't willing to take a chance. He would talk about flowers and moonbeams - he cringed - if it meant maintaining this delectable inner peace. "Is there a way to break your death-curse?" Ashlyn asked. So much for flowers and moon-beams.

While the flowers, pale and unreal in the moonlight, floated away upon the river; and thus do greater things that once were in our breasts, and near our hearts, flow from us to the eternal sea.

While we may not be able to control all that happens to us, we can control what happens inside us.

While we only look at Nature it is fair to say that Autumn is the end of the year; but it is still more true that Autumn is the beginning of the year.... Autumn is the time when in fact the leaves bud. Leaves wither because winter begins; but they also wither because spring is already beginning, because new buds are being made, as tiny as percussion caps out of which the spring will crack.... It is only an optical illusion that my flowers die in autumn; for in reality they are born.

Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?

White dew- one drop on each thorn

Who can describe the transports of a beam truly parental on beholding a daughter shoot up like some fair and modest flower, and acquire, day after day, fresh beauty and growing sweetness, so as to fill every eye with pleasure and every heart with admiration?

Who can fear Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll- Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year? Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear, To love me also in silence, with thy soul.

Whoever uses psychedelics should treat them with greatest respect. When Aldous and I used them, we prepared the ambience and ourselves the day before. The day of the session was kept as a holy day, and there were beautiful fruits and flowers around. The result was, that we had no negative experiences.

Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.

Whoever will cultivate their own mind will find full employment. Every virtue does not only require great care in the planting, but as much daily solicitude in cherishing as exotic fruits and flowers; the vices and passions (which I am afraid are the natural product of the soil) demand perpetual weeding. Add to this the search after knowledge. . . and the longest life is too short.

Who has told you that the fruit belies the flower? For the fruit you have not tasted, and the flower you know but by report.

Who is a god? A god is one who has learned the secret of being happy with the whole universe, with every flower and with every river and with every rock and every star; who has become one with this continuous eternal celebration; who celebrates, who doesn't bother whose celebration this is. And wherever there is a celebration, he participates.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.

Who is wiser: the man who plants flowers along life's way or the man who makes it bristle with thorns?

Who, of men, can tell That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail, The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale, The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones, The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones, Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet, If human souls did never kiss and greet?

Why are women wearing perfumes that smell like flowers to attract men? Men don't like flowers. I have a great idea for a scent that will attract men - how about "New Car Interior"?

Why always "not yet"?  Do flowers in spring say "not yet"?

Why do people give each other flowers? To celebrate various important occasions, they’re killing living creatures? Why restrict it to plants? 'Sweetheart, let’s make up. Have this deceased squirrel.

Why can't we all just acknowledge that 'nature' - that is, 'sex' or 'erotic' images, which are really just 'attracters' are everywhere. Of course a flower looks like what it looks like - that's what it is - to a bee.

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?

Why, flowers are violent, cruel, terrible and splendid... like love!

Why does the past look so enticing to us? For the same reason why from a distance a meadow with flowers looks like a flower bed.