Quotes About Geraniums

You haven't been planting seeds of insurrection, have you, Duchess? Well, it's a change from planting geraniums, she retorted.

The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown by a candle. Puffs of darkness sweep into the corners, and keep rolling through the room behind his chair. The air is silver and pearl, for the night is liquid with moonlight. See how the roof glitters, like ice! Over there, a slice of yellow cuts into the silver-blue, and beside it stand two geraniums, purple because the light is silver-blue, to-night.

At the second one the head of the machine ripped the top row of glasses out of place like a toboggan shoe splintering a stretch of thin ice. Then the under floats tangled in the frame work, and Dave bore company with the others in a dive into a bed of geraniums.

At the outdoor tables, the women turn their faces to the midmorning sunlight. They forget about exposure and skin cancer and just bask in the warmth, consulting their lists and staring at windows, a balcony still dripping with pink geraniums, shiny paving stones, and people going about their daily lives. They feel they are walk-ons in a play and, of course, they are, the

Summer meant the garden. It meant roses, hollyhocks, larkspur, geraniums. It meant birds. It meant long days and starry nights.

Well, I love geraniums, and anybody who does not love geraniums must obviously be a depraved and loathsome person.

Long experience has taught me that people who do not like geraniums have something morally unsound about them. Sooner or later you will find them out; you will discover that they drink, or steal books, or speak sharply to cats. Never trust a man or a woman who is not passionately devoted to geraniums.

Well, I love geraniums, and anybody who does not love geraniums must obviously be a depraved and loathsome person.

Even though winter was on its way, geraniums were in full bloom in bright blue Maxwell House cans on the front porch.

Dierdre was one of a pair of enormous common toads that I had found, tamed with comparative ease, and established in the tiny walled garden below the veranda. Here they lived a blameless life among the geraniums and tangerine trees, venturing up onto the veranda when the lights were lit to take their share of the insect life.

Then she saw him stop and wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Once, twice. And then once again. But she did not see the grin of relief spread over his face. That she did not see because her eyes had filled with tears. And the geraniums, they were just as sad. In any case, that's how they smelled.

Along with everyone else, I looked up. Standing in the doorway was a redheaded girl. Two clouds bumped up above, skidding past each other, and let down a beam of light. This beam struck the glass roof of the greenhouse. Passing through the hanging geraniums, it picked up the rosy light which now, in a kind of membrane, enveloped the girl. It was also possible that the sun wasn't doing this at all, but a certain intensity, a soul ray, from my eyes.

She demanded, "Give up your life of idolatry and become a doctor." I declined. "I have my geraniums to look after.