Quotes About Roses

I hate roses. Don't you? It's all right if you can hide them in a cutting garden, but I think a rose garden is the height of ick.

Someone heroic and valiant, not merely skilled in speech; someone who is kind and pure in heart. Someone who does not play with white roses that belong to others.

His poetry was a bouquet of dead, rotting roses, a sickness, a canker, a stupid, self-indulgent delusion.

I haven't much time to be fond of anything. But when I have a moment's fondness to bestow, most times the roses get it.

I'll go where secrets are sold Where roses unfold I'll sleep as time goes by

In the country neighbor­hood thereabouts, along the dusty roads, one found at intervals the prettiest little cottage homes, snug and cozy, and so cobwebbed with vines snowed thick with roses that the doors and windows were wholly hidden from sight-sign that these were deserted homes, forsaken years ago by defeated and disap­pointed families who could neither sell them nor give them away.

The smell of flowers was overwhelming. They were all imported, some presumably from vast distances. Arkady saw orchids, chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, roses, and tuberoses, splashes of color against winter's gray.

Todas las demás cosas, nuestros poderes, nuestros deseos, nuestro alimento, todos son realmente necesarios en primera instancia para nuestra existencia. Pero esta rosa se nos da por añadidura. Su aroma y su color son un adorno de la vida, no una condición de ésta. Sólo la bondad se da por añadidura y por eso, repito, tenemos mucho que esperar de las flores.

History's smell. Like old roses on a breeze. It would lurk forever in ordinary things. In coat hangers. Tomatoes. In the tar on roads. In certain colours. In the plates at a restaurant. In the absence of words. And the emptiness in eyes.

The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.

It starts here. From its field of roses, the Dark Tower cries out in its beast's voice. Time is a face on the water.

A life with love will have some thorns, but a life without love will have no roses. To the world, you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove.

Dijo que el mundo fue perfecto y amable, y que el mundo perfecto y amable seguía existiendo, pero enterrado como un montón de rosas bajo muchas paladas de tierra.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,Not so much honoring theeAs giving it a hope that thereIt could not wither'd be.But thou thereon didst only breathe,And sent'st it back to me;Since when it grows and smells, I swear,Not of itself, but thee.

The ages crumble down like dust, Dark roses, deviously thrust And scattered in sweet wine -- but I, I shall lift up to you my cry, And kiss your wet lips presently Beneath the ever-living Tree.

Roses are reddish Violets are bluish If it weren't for Christmas We'd all be Jewish.

I can't think of anyone who's reformed for art's sake. That's why the Roses will never reform.

If I meet somebody and I'm like, 'Hey, how you doing?' And you give somebody a hug, or a half-hug, and they stank and it rubs off on me, that is contagious 'cause I'll be smelling like roses and then it's like, 'Wait a minute.' I'll change shirts and I'm still funky.

The garden was at its best that first week in the month of June. The peonies were more opulent than usual and I walked slowly through the green light on the terrace above the white river, enjoying the heavy odor of peonies and of new roses rambling in hedges.

Her greatest wish I should think was that I would remain exactly as I was, and how I regret that that was not to be. It was only for her roses that she wished for change, the strange moment of loral enchantment when the branch of a rose mutates, and shows a "sport," something new arising from the known rose. A leap in beauty.

It is only under the plane trees of Granada that la cachucha is danced by eternally young gypsies. Eternally young, like the roses are, because every spring there are new ones.

ALIFAKOVAC At the very eastern edge of Sarajevo a boy loaded down with an armful of roses — It's Bajram and he, the little merchant, is going to the graveyard loaded with roses loaded with a hundred course roses like a grave on the day of its digging Like a grave on the day of its digging the boy is climbing Alifakovac

A black pendant in the shape of a heart lay in her hand. It was carved with roses and strung onto a velvet cord.