Best 34 quotes in «weeds quotes» category

Awake! arise! the hour is late! Angels are knocking at thy door! They are in haste and cannot wait, And once departed come no more. Awake! arise! the athlete's arm Loses its strength by too much rest; The fallow land, the untilled farm Produces only weeds at best.

A flower doesn't lose its beauty because weeds mocked it.

Anger is the agro-chemical that makes the weeds of failure to germinate and compete with your crops of success. Don’t apply it.

Growing Literacy of the Heart and Mind Cultivates the Landscape of a Child's Future.

Becky was a weed.  Nobody ever wanted them taking over the bigger, prettier plants.  People went to all extremes to make them go away.  They sprayed poison, pulled until the roots gave way. They felt only like their garden was complete when every tendril was extirpated.  This was how she felt from birth.

Don't kill the high because you are low,Don't.

He saw the kind of beauty yellow flowers have growing over a carpet of dead leaves. The beauty of cracks forming a mosaic in a dry riverbed, of emerald-green algae at the base of a seawall, of a broken shard from a blue bottle. The beauty of a window smudged with tiny prints. The beauty of wild weeds.

If roses were not special weeds would not envy them.

If the weeds are removed and there is nothing planted, it is the weeds that will keep growing.

If you tend to a flower, it will bloom, no matter how many weeds surround it.

It's easy to take the time to stop and smell the roses but one must be willing to give of themselves enough to also stop to admire and understand life's weeds. Colleen Dougherty 10/2015

Mbegu zilizopandwa kwenye udongo wenye rutuba ni rahisi sana kuvamiwa na magugu iwapo mwenye bustani hataipalilia bustani yake kila siku. Kila siku tunapaswa kupalilia bustani zetu za kiroho, kuondoa magugu ambayo ni raha za dunia hii.

I've never written a quote I feel would be suitable for my gravestone. Wouldn't it be ironic if it were this one? Oh, and could you pull a few weeds while you're here?

i want to explode in a cloud and be like a lightning striking the earth i want to lift the world and throw it in the other way maybe create a path so much things to say and i will talk about my life now since my birth day well there is not so much to talk about besides a boring life with issues i was talking to the other day and since then i knew its not worth i named it "Ben", like all names here in this country they beggin with ben and all the power comes from "Ben" "Ben" , i mean "bennani", "ben kirane", "ben jalon", "ben chaquron" i can't understand me and you can't understand these things and i hope none of us will because this could make you another you , and you dont want to be another you but i will be another me anytime facing you , me and you we are we who we were and are like straires we are who we are but we are changng and we will still be who we are because changing is not bad no matter how you look deeply into this you will find it like a trap trying to kill you inside you an let your real you go out from that page you created you dont worry it dosent rhime but maybe it does if you look closely weed eternety and happiness from above can i fuck with your mind a little love

Naomi makes a face and points to the potted flowers near the front door of her houseboat. "Just look at that," she says, as if something upsetting has happened. She reaches into one of the pots and pulls out a green vine, a few feet long, with several bell-shaped flowers. "There," she says with a vindicated look in her eye, as if this vine has wronged her in some way. "What is it?" I ask. She flashes a patronizing smile. "An invasive weed," she says, tossing the vine into the lake. I watch the little white flowers flutter in the water. I want to kneel down and rescue them from drowning. "Morning glory," Naomi continues, shaking her head. "It'll take over if you let it." I watch as the vine drifts away on the lake. The little flowers bob up and down as if gasping for air. I consider that the vine might find its way to shore and wash up on a patch of soil, where it will start a new existence, maybe sink its roots and thrive. Maybe Naomi has set it free. I think of the bluebells that grew in my mother's garden when I was a child. Weeds, really. But I'd pick them by the handful, and when bunched together they looked stunning.

Mlaodikia ni mtu anayejua kwamba bustani yake ina magugu lakini anaona uvivu kwenda kuipalilia. Kinachofanya aone uvivu kwenda kuipalilia ni raha za dunia hii. Usiwe vuguvugu. Kama umeamua kuwa moto kuwa moto. Kama umeamua kuwa baridi kuwa baridi.

Our animal instincts can be compared with weeds that grow naturally but often harm the useful crops. Our human qualities are like the beautiful lawn or the fields of paddy. They don’t grow naturally but need human effort for growth. They bring pleasure to the world.

If you fail to sow good thoughts in your mind, the weeds of evil thoughts will take root there and eventually they will take up all the space and not let good thoughts flourish.

The fundamental metaphor of National Socialism as it related to the world around it was the garden, not the wild forest. One of the most important Nazi ideologists, R.W. Darré, made clear the relationship between gardening and genocide: “He who leaves the plants in a garden to themselves will soon find to his surprise that the garden is overgrown by weeds and that even the basic character of the plants has changed. If therefore the garden is to remain the breeding ground for the plants, if, in other words, it is to lift itself above the harsh rule of natural forces, then the forming will of a gardener is necessary, a gardener who, by providing suitable conditions for growing, or by keeping harmful influences away, or by both together, carefully tends what needs tending and ruthlessly eliminates the weeds which would deprive the better plants of nutrition, air, light, and sun. . . . Thus we are facing the realization that questions of breeding are not trivial for political thought, but that they have to be at the center of all considerations, and that their answers must follow from the spiritual, from the ideological attitude of a people. We must even assert that a people can only reach spiritual and moral equilibrium if a well-conceived breeding plan stands at the very center of its culture.

Religious dogma creates a perfect fertilizer for the weeds of hypocrisy.

The gardens surrounding the palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha were spectacularly beautiful, full of vibrant colors, the smell of jasmine pervading everything. Harry stopped in front of an exquisite flowering plant with delicate blooms of soft pink and white. "Orchids," he murmured. "They grew in the foliage around Changi, and I've seen them everywhere since I arrived in Bangkok. They are rare in England." "They are like weeds here," said Lidia. "Golly! I wish we had weeds at home like this," Harry said, thinking he must take some back to his mother.

Promises, like gardens need weeding from time to time to produce healthy results.

They're just weeds, love, they don't belong anywhere.' Her granddaughter stuck out her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. 'That doesn't seem very nice. Everything belongs somewhere.

The strongest and most mysterious weeds often have things to teach us.

The mind is the laboratory where products, both fake and genuine are manufactured. People grow wild weeds, others grow flourishing flowers!

Use the water of encouragement on someone else's flowers - especially the flowers that are wilted, trampled on, and taken for granted. But don't nourish the weeds.

This is what l love about flowers. Wherever possible, they just grow; in between the weeds, through a crack in a stone, in the middle of mud or moss - they just grow fearlessly, so confident of their short-lived beauty.

This garden is your life. Of course, there are the occasional weeds—but more than anything, this garden is filled with so much life!

This was my thought as I followed her to the cemetery, pausing every few minutes as she and the children stopped to pick a handful of roadside flowers- weeds, for the most part- dandelions; ragwort; daisies; poppies; a stray anemone from the verge; a fistful of rosemary from someone's garden, pushing its shoots through a dry stone wall. Of course, Vianne Rocher likes weeds. And the children- the young one especially- lent themselves to the game with glee, so that by the time we reached the place, she had a whole armful of flowers and herbs tied together with bindweed and a straggle of wild strawberry-

To say nothing of weeds—many of them being plants we used to value but no longer do. They don’t like to die out, you know. (From ‘The Extraordinary Adventures of Doggins’)

You have planted many seeds in the garden of possibilities. Meditation is the art removing the weeds from the garden of possibilities.

When life is not coming up roses Look to the weeds and find the beauty hidden within them.

With the exercise of a little care, the nettle could be made useful; it is neglected and it becomes hurtful. It is exterminated. How many men resemble the nettle!" He added with a pause: "Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.

When the wind likes a path, the weeds around that path will tremble all day long!