Quotes About Withered

Who wants to see the Future, who ever does? A man can face the Past, but to think- the pillars crumbled , you say? And the sea empty, and the canals dry, and the maidens dead, and the flowers withered?

When he is forsaken, Withered and shaken, What can an old man do but die?

My father had osteomyelitis-his left arm was withered between his elbow and his shoulder ... . But the amputation of a Stone Age man called Leaf, a stoneworker, does not relate to my father at all.

The blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the God of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and in short you are for ever floored.

There never yet has been a great system sustained by force under which all the best faculties of men have not slowly withered.

I stood there in the whirling summer,My hand capped a withered heart,And thought of China and of Greece,Of Alexander in his tent;Of Montaigne in his tower,Of Saint Theresa in her wild lament.

There are people whose souls have just withered, people who are willing to go along with anything evil - anything so as not to be suspected of disagreeing with whoever is in power.

The romance, alas, waned and withered but the quiche lived on.

My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the house had

Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale forgotten it seems That's where i hide them, Yesterday's dreams. Shake out the memories, blow off the dust Smooth out the wrinkles Rub off the rust Remember the times they sparkled so bright Far out of sight Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale, forgotten it seems That's where I hide them, Yesterday's dreams.

The wind I hear it sighing, with autumn's saddest sound; withered leaves all thick are lying, as spring-flowers on the ground. This dark night has won me to wander far away; old feelings gather fast upon me.

The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.

There was no sign of any life, just erratic hints of a faded sun peeking down with sorrow on the dead world it once nourished.

You have preserved your mystery. Rest in peace, if that be your will. I give you this withered rose I have borne through hell, casting it into the abyss. I leave you this rose and the twisted colors of the sky.

Alice! A childish story take, And with a gentile hand Lay it where Childhood dreams are twined In memory's mystic band, Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers Pluck'd in a far off land.

Imagination seethes, excited, Once more its contact has ignited The blood within my withered heart, Once more I love, once more I smart!...

Because they had no root, they withered away.

If you turn your face to the Sun, my boy, your soul will, when you come to die, feel like an autumn, with the golden fruits of the earth hanging in rich clusters ready to be gathered – not like a winter. You may feel ever so worn, but you will not feel withered. You will die in peace, hoping for the spring – and such a spring!

The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. "In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses." "I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead." "Well then, I'll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain." the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?

But like infection is the petty thought: it creeps and hides, and wants to be nowhere--until the whole body is decayed and withered by the petty infection... Thus spoke Zarathustra.

I was infatuated once with a foolish, besotted affection, that clung to him in spite of his unworthiness, but it is fairly gone now--wholly crushed and withered away; and he has none but himself and his vices to thank for it.

Oh, you men of small pleasure and enterprise, oblivious to your purpose, fault-finding, avaricious and sinful, who cannot live without women and cannot enjoy without pain, fearsome, inconstant, diseased and withered, dependent, cruel, deceived and liars, the worst of men!

He is a stem, a husk, barren and thin, withered by sun, erased by wind, emptied by seasons of dullness, marked by seconds of duty, scarred by regret only the faintest of lines dare to write out, which no one, not even him, can interpret anymore. People have told him a crow will reveal more than anything his face has to share.