Quotes About Flowers

The Girl With Many Eyes One day in the park I had quite a surprise. I met a girl who had many eyes. She was really quite pretty (and also quite shocking!) and I noticed she had a mouth, so we ended up talking. We talked about flowers, and her poetry classes, and the problems she'd have if she ever wore glasses. It's great to know a girl who has so many eyes, but you really get wet when she breaks down and cries.

Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.

I know that there's a cultural expectation that women be nurturing, delicate flowers. And I am. So delicate. But that doesn't mean I can't write a good, gory murder scene.

Mi corazón está brotando flores en mitad de la noche Poema Azteca

Ante los crisantemos blancos las tijeras vacilan un instante.

man, tree of images, words which are flowers become fruits which are deeds.

The bees are very attentive to the flowers until their honey is done, and then they fly over them. I don't know if the flowers feel grateful to the bees, they are great fools if they do.

With freedom, flowers, books, and the moon, who could not be perfectly happy?

Glass flowers exploding. Slow trail of colors down the sky like stains dispersing in the sea, candescent polyps extinguished in the depths.

The Fairy's dress rustled as she turned. Human women dressed like flowers, layers of petals around a mortal, rotting core.

Let us use our magic and enchantments to conjure up a woman out of flowers." … Math and Gwydyon took the flowers of oak and broom and meadowsweet and from these conjured up the loveliest and most beautiful girl anyone had seen; they baptized her with the form of baptism that was used then, and named her Blodeuedd. "Math Son of Mathonwy," from The Mabinogion, translated by Jeffrey Gantz

I once knew an old man who used to tell stories at night by the fire. Stories about paradise. This is how he described it: carpets of moss, pools of cool water, flowers and sweet berries everywhere, trees growing up to the sky, and the voices of their leaves speaking to the wind above you. Can you hear them?

You're always begging things to love you as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them -- You don't want to love -- your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved. You aren't positive, you're negative. You absorb, absorb, as if you must fill yourself up with love, because you've got a shortage somewhere.

Her absorption was strange, almost rhapsodic. Both Birkin and Ursula were suspended. The little red pistillate flowers had some strange, almost mystic-passionate attraction for her.

Those are the little seed-producing flowers, and the long catkins, they only produce pollen, to fertilise them.' 'Do they, do they!' repeated Hermione, looking closely. 'From those little red bits, the nuts come; if they receive pollen from the long danglers.

Come here, and let me pin them in for you. He arranged them two or three at a time in the bosom of her dress, stepping back now and then to see the effect. You know, he said, taking the pin out of his mouth, a woman ought always to arrange her flowers before her glass. Miriam laughed. She thought flowers ought to be pinned in one's dress without any care. That Paul should take pains to fix her flowers for her was his whim.

He brought her forgetmenots. And again his heart hurt with love, seeing her hand, used with work, holding the little bunch of flowers he gave her. She was perfectly happy.

Max Rose: Vo? What kind of name is that? Spader: What kind of name is Rose? Isn't that some kind of flower?

manifest themselves in this struggle as courage, humor, cunning, and fortitude. They have retroactive force and will constantly call in question every victory, past and present, of the rulers. As flowers turn toward the sun, by dint of a secret heliotropism the past strives to turn toward that sun which is rising in the sky of history. A historical materialist must be aware of this most inconspicuous of all transformations.

She is the only rose that doesn't smell of plastic

Its large beautiful flowers naturally attract beautiful Painted Lady butterflies—making such a summertime garden an enchanting place for a young girl. It seemed natural that young alien girls would appreciate flowering butterfly filled gardens just as young human girls do.

Cobb's well-deserved reputation as a bibliophile (he couldn't resist biographies of Napoleon) sometimes resulted in him receiving books instead of trophies or flowers.

To make collections of wild flowers for the several months, press them, and mount them neatly on squares of cartridge paper, with the English name, habitat, and date of finding each, affords much happy occupation and, at the same time, much useful training: better still is it to accustom children to make careful brush drawings for the flowers that interest them, of the whole plant where possible.

...Thus in each flower and simple bell, That in our path untrodden lie, Are sweet remembrancers who tell How fast the winged moments fly. Time will steal on with ceaseless pace, Yet lose we not the fleeting hours, Who still their fairy footsteps trace, As light they dance among the flowers.