Quotes About Flowers

Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial dance among the flowers - a living prismatic gem.... it is a creature of such fairy-like loveliness as to mock all description.

Into flowers, into women, I have awakened. Too weak to think of strength, I have thought all day, Or dozed among standing friends. I lie in night, now, A small mound under linen like the drifted snow. from "The Operation

Have you ever observed a humming-bird moving about in an aerial dance among the flowers--a living prismatic gem that changes its colour with every change of position.

The mown grass is growing again nearly to our knees; we will take a second crop of hay from this field, rich and green and starred with moon daisies, buttercups and the bright, blowsy heads of poppies.

Dawn breaks / And blossoms open / Gates of paradise.

The first," Elise repeated, and for reasons she could only guess at, being first gave her a sense of pleasure. She decided to buy those flowers for Aurora, after all.

To me, Texas signified strange days, querulous wanderings, bloody fairy tales, hot, moon-filled nights, earthworms, and unbought flowers. Texas was women to me: my aunt dying of cancer, my grandmother's hunchbacked sister, and Eloisa. All laughing, laughing.

It's a rare plant," he said, touching the sprig in my open hand. "Flowers, fruit and leaves all together at the one time. The white flowers are for honor, and red fruit for courage—and the green leaves are for constancy.

smiled. "Wonderful. Perhaps now you'll stop putting flowers in my

This close, it was still the song of spring, but that song was revealed to be what the pagans had always known it to be—the blind urge to seize, to mate, to spill blood and seed heedlessly into the earth, wallow in crushed flowers, writhe in the juices of grass and mud.

The flowers glowed in their many colors. Lakes and rivers shimmered emerald in the sunlight, and Jay's heart pounded with joy.

Rather than recall in these flowers the fragrance of the past, I would like to hear this nightingale's voice, to know if his song is as sweet.

Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

When you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

Pleasure is wild and sweet. She likes purple flowers. She loves the sun and the wind and the night sky. She carries a silver bowl full of liquid moonlight. She has a cat named Midnight with stars on his paws. Many people mistrust Pleasure, and even more misunderstand her. For a long time I could barely stand to be in ...the same room with her...

The fairy waved her scarlet wand, and a shower of sparkling red fairy dust floated softly down to the ground. Where the dust landed, all kinds of red flowers appeared with a pop!

I was taught to confront things you can't avoid. Death is one of those things. To live in a society where you're trying not to look at it is stupid because looking at death throws us back into life with more vigour and energy. The fact that flowers don't last for ever makes them beautiful.

The tablecloth was blue. The napkins were blue. The lovely porcelain plate in front of her was an Oriental design of white and blue. The flowers that made up the centerpiece were blue, the vase they reposed in—blue. Sir Graham grinned at her, and she saw a devilish, wicked gleam in his—also blue—eyes before his long lashes swept down to hide it. "You are pleased, Majesty?

All roses are flowers. Some flowers fade quickly. Therefore some roses fade quickly. A large majority of college students endorse this syllogism as valid. In fact the argument is flawed, because it is possible that there are no roses among the flowers that fade quickly.

The Herbs ought to be distilled when they are in their greatest vigor, and so ought the Flowers also.

The French, perhaps more than any other nation, cherish the memory of their dead by ornamenting their places of sepulture with the finest flowers, often renewing the garlands and replacing such plants as decay with vigorous and costly ones.

I've always loved the language of flowers. I discovered Kate Greenaway's 'Language of Flowers' in a used bookstore when I was 16 and couldn't believe it was such a well-kept secret. How could something so beautiful and romantic be virtually unknown?

Every spring, this country will be reminded of the Lady from Texas. As trees bloom and flowers carpet our nation's capital, Lady Bird Johnson will be remembered. Only Lady Bird Johnson could, with her vision of a beautiful America, lay claim to spring as her memorial.

40 months of blossoming, months of transfiguration, May without cloud and June stabbed to the heart, I shall not ever forget the lilacs or the roses Nor those the spring has kept folded away apart.