Quotes About Petal

Rose is the most beautiful flower - it and tuberose are my favourites.

A petal falling, never to bloom again A petal in flames, full of beauty

puzzling that such imitations always pander so exclusively to the eye instead of also copying the damp fat feel of live petal and leaf.

Each peaceful breath is a petal opening on the bud of humanity, a bloom on the flower of life.

I am the impossibility of desiring the person you pity. And the petal of the Easter lily—

It has been well said that an author who expects results from a first novel is in a position similar to that of a man who drops a rose petal down the Grand Canyon of Arizona and listens for the echo.

Hear in a realm of wordless dreams-- That inner life which knows and thinks; My thirsty spirit comes and drinks The petal dew of golden streams; Where death is less than what it seems, And life is subtler than the Sphinx.

You can have a silence full of words. A lute retains, in its bowl, the notes it has played. The viol, in its strings, holds a concord. A shriveled petal can hold its scent, a prayer can rattle with curses; an empty house, when the owners have gone out, can still be loud with ghosts.

A drop of the bloodred liquid of the blusher mushroom , which causes potentially lethal paralysis. A petal of deathsweet, which can cause a sleep that lasts a hundred years. A sliver of wraithberry, which makes the blood race and induces a kind of wildness before stopping the heart. And a seed of everapple- faerie fruit- which muddles the minds of mortals.

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.

It was spring, and we were surrounded by the profusion of Anatolian fertility. For three weeks the earth would paint herself in every color, burst every bud, unfurl each rioting petal. Then, the wild flush of her excitement spent, she would settle down to the steady work of summer. It was my favorite time of year.

It was spring, and we were surrounded by the profusion of Anatolian fertility. For three weeks the earth would paint herself in every color, burst every bud, unfurl each rioting petal.

It is at the edge of a petal that love waits.

Sadness creeping from the shadows will get less and less until it crushes her no more than a petal might her breath.

I was a petal quivering in the slightest breeze, about to fall any moment. Even the slightest insult made me think of dying.