Quotes About Flowers

Do you do them in that old-fashioned code,like daffodils mean I'm sorry I was late, daisies mean sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends, these things here fanned out mean just thinking of you?Or did you just have them throw whatever was pretty together?

"Spring makes the world a happy place You see a smile on every face. Flowers come out and birds arrive, Oh, isn't it grand to be alive?"

"I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden."

"Happiness is to hold flowers in both hands."

A grace living here as we live, Move my mind now to that which holds Things as they change. The warmth has come. The doors have opened. Flower and song Embroider ground and air, lead me Beside the healing field that waits

When sakura fall from the branch, the shock waves can shatter entire cities.

So I turned to the Garden of Love That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tombstones where flowers should be; And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys and desires.

NANTUCKET Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains? Smell of cleanliness? Sunshine of late afternoon? On the glass tray a glass pitcher, the tumbler turned down, by which a key is lying?And the immaculate white bed

Unworldly love that has no hope of the world and that cannot change the world to its delight— The rain falls upon the earth and grass and flowers come perfectly into form from its liquid clearness But love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love

They seem to have accepted that she's gone." "I don't see how they could be sure she is. But I wish we'd known. Could've brought some flowers." "Daedra never suggested this. It seems to be a surprise." "A surprise funeral? You do that, here?" "A first, for me.

In the spring a young man's fancy turns … pretty fancy.

Moss covered paths between scarlet peonies, Pale jade mountains fill your rustic windows. I envy you, drunk with flowers, Butterflies swirling in your dreams.

The Geeta is a bouquet composed of the beautiful flowers of spiritual truths collected from the Upanishads.

Around me celestial flowers are falling in a crystal shower. Or are they the tears of the gods who crowd the skies, looking down in sorrow and admiration at my final act of self-respect?

In the old country my mother planted flowers in the face of my father's disdain. In every garden, in every house, no matter how long we lived there. I think it was the war, the Blitz in England, that took all the flowers. I think it was for the love she couldn't show him. I think it was for me. To show me that only the unspeakable remains.

There are no goats. That is why you have all these beautiful flowers." "There were goats, in your village?" "Yes, and they ate all the flowers." "I'm sorry." "Do not be sorry. We ate all the goats.

I remember [Mommie Dearest] always said, "Send me flowers while I'm alive. They won't do me a damn bit of good after I'm dead." My mother died on the morning of May 10, 1977.

Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the human heart, imagining itself alone and unwatched, feels most deeply in the night-time, so seems it as if the flowers, in musing modesty, await the mantling eventide ere they give themselves up wholly to feeling, and breathe forth their sweetest odours. Flow forth, ye perfumes of my heart, and seek beyond these mountains the dear one of my dreams!

Does it not seem strange, hatred and bloodshed and all the horrors of war- and there simply Paradise, sunshine and flowers and peace.

FINDING FAITH IN A FLOWER Sometimes when faith is running low And I cannot fathom why things are so, I walk among the flowers that grow And learn the answers to all I would know. For among my flowers I have come to see Life's miracle and its mystery, And standing in silence and reverie, My faith comes flooding back to me.

When I go out into the countryside and see the sun and the green and everything flowering, I say to myself Yes indeed, all that belongs to me!

O May! robed in your gown of flowers, Nun-like, gaze from your balmy cell, Under your crown of asphodel, And sentinel all the summer hours; Rising among your daisy bowers, Like Venus from her cradled shell!

What the sunshine is to the field and to the flowers the Holy Spirit is to the life of man.

Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into.