Best 977 quotes in «rose quotes» category

Love and a red rose can't be hid.

Love is a rose But you better not pick it. It only grows When it's on the vine. Handful of thorns And you'll know you missed it. You lose your love When you say the word MINE.

Love is both Creator's and Saviour's gospel to mankind; a volume bound in rose-leaves, clasped with violets, and by the beaks of humming-birds printed with peach-juice on the leaves of lilies.

LOVE is like a burden ROSE, but a burden LOVE is never been a beautiful ROSE.

Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth.

Love laid his sleepless head On a thorny rose bed: And his eyes with tears were red, And pale his lips as the dead.

Love lies bleeding in the bed whereover Roses lean with smiling mouths or pleading: Earth lies laughing where the sun's dart clove her: Love lies bleeding.

Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.

Love thou rose, yet leave it on its stem.

Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.

Match me such marvel, save in Eastern clime, A rose-red city'half as old asTime'!

Moonlight, white satin, roses. A bride.

Mengistu seemed to symbolize the revolution. He was the baria, the slave who overthrew the master, the member of the conquered tribe who got even with the conquerors, the poorly educated son of a servant who rose against the intellectual elite.

My desk is covered with talismans: pieces of rose quartz, wishing stones from a favorite beach.

My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unknown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I exhaled into the promise of more to come, calling it to me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn’t care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was.

My dear October, we are bound by an enchanted rose made from the hair of a Duchess, and my blood is covering your hand. You can learn anything you wish to know about me merely by licking you fingers." Tybalt laughed a little. "Yes, you may ask me a question.

Most fathers don't threaten to disembowel their daughter's boyfriends." "That's not true. And anyway, that's not what I actually said. It was much worse.

My parents had come from Mexico, a short road in my imagination. I felt myself as coming from a caramelized planet, an upside-down planet, pineapple-cratered. Though I was born here, I came from the other side of the looking glass, as did Alice, though not alone like Alice. Downtown I saw lots of brown people. Old men on benches. Winks from Filipinos. Sikhs who worked in the fields were the most mysterious brown men, their heads wrapped in turbans. They were the rose men. They looked like roses.

My God, I have never thanked Thee for my 'thorn!' I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my 'thorn;' I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the glory of my cross; teach me the value of my 'thorn.' Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow.

My heart, far too sensitivefor this human world.My heart, so easily wounded, sheds rose tears of compassion.

My lady's presence makes the roses red, because to see her lips they blush for shame.

My life is part humor, part roses, part thorns.

My garden all is overblown with roses,/ My spirit all is overblown with rhyme.

Negativland through rose colored glasses. If 'mice are from Mars,' Greek Buck is from Venus.

My thoughts hold mortal strife, I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries, Peace to my soul to bring, Oft calls that prince which here doth monarchize; But he, grim-grinning king, Who caitiffs scorns and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams; And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams.

Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.

My teacher, my great cello teacher Leonard Rose, was such a great cellist, and nurturing man, very patient. But I grew up not only admiring him, but obviously Casals, Rostrotovich, Jacqueline du Pre, and many others, including many of my peers and contemporaries.

Nature, left to her own devices, finds it hard to produce anything that is ugly. The work of the plant breeder should always be to enhance nature, not to detract from it....we should strive to develop the rose's beauty in flower, growth and leaf.

No matter how irrelevant social class now is, even the most eager egalitarian must be quietly proud that the posh English rose is still an industry standard for peerlessly sophisticated beauty.

No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.

New Year's Day probably is not going to work. And one of the main reasons it's not going to work is that the Rose Bowl is on New Year's Day, and it's not moving.

Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. Pass all the pebbles in your path and you will find you have crossed the mountain. The mind does not create what it perceives, anymore than the eye creates the rose.

No star ever rose or set without influence somewhere.

Nothing is wrong about giving a rose to someone you like or love.

Not even the most heavily-armed police state can exert brute force to all of its citizens all of the time. Meme management is so much subtler; the rose-tinted refraction of perceived reality, the contagious fear of threatening alternatives.

Now and then it is a joy to have one's table red with wine and roses.

No time to grieve for roses when the forests are burning.

Now get that Rose, get that get that Rose A little Hennessy & Louis the Thirteenth

Now I know a refuge never grows from a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose gotta tend the earth if you want a rose.

Numquam enim audiendi quod aliquis monachus super puerum incubuisset, quin statim post ipsum surrexisset puer. I have heard before of a monk throwing himself on a boy, but the boyalways rose again afterwards.

Oh, but Paris isn’t for changing planes, it’s… it’s for changing your outlook, for… for throwing open the windows and letting in… letting in la vie en rose.

Objects and their functions no longer had any significance. All I perceived was perception itself, the hell of forms and figures devoid of human emotion and detached from the reality of my unreal environment. I was an instrument in a virtual world that constantly renewed its own meaningless image in a living world that was itself perceived outside of nature. And since the appearance of things was no longer definitive but limitless, this paradisiacal awareness freed me from the reality external to myself. The fire and the rose, as it were, became one.

Oh never star Was lost here but it rose afar.

Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.

O friend, my bosom said, Through thee alone the sky is arched. Through thee the rose is red; All things through thee take nobler form, And look beyond the earth, The mill-round of our fate appears A sun-path in thy worth. Me too thy nobleness has taught To master my despair; The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair.

Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses.

Oh, but a real princess would know that hard work ennobles the soul,' Rose objected. 'That would be one of the signs.

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year.

Oh, this is the joy of the rose; That it blows, And goes.