Quotes About Flowers

A beautiful bouquet or a long-lasting flowering plant is a traditional gift for women, but I have recommended that both men and women keep fresh flowers in the home for their beauty, fragrance, and the lift they give our spirits.

When she stepped out of that spumy sea Aphrodite was said to have brought fertility, flowers, life, light to a barren world. For centuries women and men went to her sanctuaries to seek her pity and protection. Her domain was originally not just lust, but lust for life.

There's no dearth of kindness in this world of ours; Only in our blindness we gather thorns for flowers.

By cultivating the beautiful we scatter the seeds of heavenly flowers, as by doing good we cultivate those that belong to humanity.

My bees cover one thousand square miles of land that I do not own in their foraging flights, flying from flower to flower for which I pay no rent, stealing nectar but pollinating plants in return.

He'd never seen a rain quite like this so gentle that it seemed barely to fall yet slowly laid its shine on the bay leaves and hydrangea flowers…

What's a butterfly garden without butterflies?

Las bellas mujeres aprestan coronas de flores, y bajo los pórticos vense sus rostros de rosa; y la más hermosa sonríe al más fiero de los vencedores. ¡Honor al que trae cautiva la extraña bandera; honor al herido y honor a los fieles soldados que muerte encontraron por mano extranjera!

Jesus dizia aos perturbados pelas ansiedades da vida que eles deviam olhar para as flores a fim de aprender delas tranquilidade.

And in my flower-beds, I think, Smile the carnation and the pink.

All I wanted was a quiet life, a writing pad, books to read, flowers to gaze upon, and sometimes a little love, a little kiss…

No, thanks,' I said. 'I live in a tiny flat in Delhi. No room for flowers.' 'A world without flowers,' he shook his head. 'That's what it's coming to.

Red roses for young lovers. French beans for longstanding relationships

Pourquoi me sentirais-je Dans le besoin ? Devant ma porte de broussailles, La lune est là, Les fleurs sont là.

Gönderdi?in sümbüllerden bir k?sm?n? yengem bana vermi? ve senin sümbülü çok sevdi?ini söylemi?ti. Onlar?, t?pk? seni koklar gibi koklad?m ve gö?sümde ta??d?m.

She was a French rose growing wild amid the hothouse flowers of London.

We plant, we nurture, we grow and we give, different flowers for different moments in time, but all for the same purpose: to say that which cannot be said, and to say it with beauty and with grace.

I had only to open my bedroom window, and blue air, love, and flowers entered with her".

You could wonder for hours what flowers mean, but for me, they're life itself, in all its happy brilliance. We couldn't do with out flowers. Flowers help you forget life's tragedies.

Every habit he's ever had is still there in his body, lying dormant like flowers in the desert. Given the right conditions, all his old addictions would burst into full and luxuriant bloom.

Some days I do appreciate things more, eggs, flowers, but then I decide I'm only having an attack of sentimentality, my brain going pastel Technicolor, like a beautiful-sunset greeting cards they used to make so many of in California. High-gloss hearts. The danger is grayout.

I'm sorry there is so much pain in this story. I'm sorry it's in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it. I've tried to put some of the good things in as well. Flowers, for instance, because where would we be without them?

We were custodians of an invaluable treasure that existed, unseen, inside us; we were precious flowers that had to be kept safely inside glass houses, or else we would be ambushed and our petals would be torn off and our treasure would be stolen and we would be ripped apart and trampled by the ravenous men who might lurk around any corner, out there in the wide sharp-edged sin-ridden world.

And there is so much time to be endured, time heavy as fried food or thick fog; and then all at once these red events, like explosions, on streets otherwise decorous and matronly and somnambulent. I'm sorry there is so much pain in this story. I'm sorry it's in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it. I've tried to put some of the good things in as well. Flowers, for instance, because where would we be without them?