Quotes About Flowers

Isabelle was holding an umbrella. It was clear plastic, decorated with decals of colorful flowers. It was one of the girliest things Simon had ever seen, and he didn't blame Alec for ducking out from under it and taking his chances with the rain.

The universe could be a wondrous thing. The universe had out did herself. The universe would be getting flowers.

Still studying her with the same unnerving intensity, he said, "When the wind blows, the sapling bends, the flowers lie low against the earth, the grass is flattened." He thumped his chest with his fist. "I am your wind, Blue Eyes. Bend or break.

Night soil oozed onto my cloak, and I wondered why all my adventures involved foul odour. Why could I not for once frolic in a meadow of flowers, or escape in a hamper of fresh laundry? No, I must endure night soil and prison cells and unwashed soldiers…

Frédéric Bazille, Young Woman with Peonies.

Her gardens, in particular, are highly regarded.

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring—When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush.

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring- When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. (From "Spring")

I bear a basket lined with grass; I am so light, I am so fair, That men must wonder as I pass And at the basket that I bear, Where in a newly-drawn green litter Sweet flowers I carry, -- sweets for bitter. Lilies I shew you, lilies none, None in Caesar's gardens blow, -- And a quince in hand, -- not one Is set, because their buds not spring; Spring not, 'cause world is wintering....

The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

Eros and Thanatos were always the source of his inspiration, even though, from this time on, they usually appear in the guise of two simple and fundamental themes: flowers and women. These themes offered him the greatest opportunity to give a certain permanence to all that can be grasped in passing: an ephemeral sensual joy, the ecstasy of life.

As a flying seed will debauch a whole meadow with flowers, one kiss, one caress not even wished for, had spoiled her peace of mind, even her good health.

Roots can exist without flowers, but no flower can exist without roots. Religion may be a flower, but people are its roots.

Roots can exist without flowers, but no flower can exist without roots.

Roots cannot exist without flowers, but no flower can exist without roots.

Now an angel has such a nice time, helping people and comforting them, and bringing sunshine into dark places. Putting down fresh dew every morning; making the flowers grow...

Dreams are nocturnal flowers, blooming when the sun has strayed far enough that we can see clearly.

Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.... these delicate flowers look like the frolic and interference of love and beauty.

The lovely flowers embarrass me, They make me regret I am not a bee –

With daffodils mad footnotes for the spring, And asters purple asterisks for autumn...

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance...

You smell the lilac and there comes flooding back the memories of the days when you first knew lilacs and carried them about as if they were the queen-flower of the world.

So I leave flowers; spring flowers, then summer flowers. I gather the red and orange and yellow trumpet flowers, for a trumpet is a thing that makes a loud noise like a shout, and I tie their vines together and leave them to shout I love you in a row from Miranda's window-ledge.