Quotes About Roses

I send my friends e-mail messages about the progress of my garden, especially of my roses. It left them with the impression, I think, that I was concerned with nothing else. I felt no urgency in correcting that notion. People obsessed with their gardens have probably caused the least suffering in the world of any category of men.

When we see a soul whose acts are all regal, graceful, and pleasant as roses, we must thank God that such things can be and are.

When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens,I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.

Treaties are like roses and young girls. They last while they last.

On the porch were the still-smoking remains of long-stemmed roses, evidence that someone angry and passive-aggressive didn't know Peter was out of town.

Sure my rose-colored glasses don't let me see the world for what it is NOW but what they allow is the chance to see what the world would look like if people cared enough to plant more roses

The ravens of the night were hush'd, The bird of dawn began his lay, The rose-bud, newly wakened, blush'd To feel the touch of springing day; And bade the roses round unveil, Roused by the warbling nightingale. The jasmine stood all bathed in dew; Wet were the violet's lids of blue. - Zuleika's Dream

The little cakes were iced in white, with golden yellow icing roses on top, and instead of ice cream there was sherbet that was a rainbow of colors in each dish.

It is winter now, and the roses are blooming again, their petals bright against the snow. My father died last April; my sisters no longer write, except at the turning of the year, content with their fine houses and their grandchildren. Beast and I putter in the gardens and walk slowly on the forest paths. [from the poem, Beauty and the Beast: An Anniversary ]

Post Impressions into the strenuous briefness Life: handorgans and April darkness,friends i charge laughing. Into the hair-thin tints of yellow dawn, into the women-coloured twilight i smilingly glide. I into the big vermilion departure swim,sayingly; (Do you think?)the i do,world is probably made of roses & hello: (of solongs and,ashes)

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands -excerpt of #35 from 100 Selected Poems

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds; For this was not to love, but lust inclind; For love does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds, And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds.

Aujourd'hui, je suis fou de mort, partout la mort, et ces roses sur ma table qui me parfument tandis que j'écris, affreusement vivant, ces roses sont des bouts de cadavres qu'on force à faire semblant de vivre trois jours de plus dans de l'eau et les gens achètent ces cadavres de fleurs et les jeunes filles s'en repaissent.

There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you? But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment. No wind whatsoever brought you now. Now you're here. What you were isn't you, or else the whole rose would be here.

I was a prisoner, but the prison library was excellent. On one table in the corner, I found an e-reader with a note that said, "In case I forgot anything." I don't like to think I can be bought, but if I could, this guy definitely knew the currency. Roses and books—I could survive in these rooms forever.

The women would not be looking at him like this if he were carrying lilies, reflects Jean-Paul. Flowers have there own silent vocabulary. There are blooms for love, for friendship, for sorrow, and for joy. He inspect the roses he is carrying. Long-stemmed and elegant, they have been grown, selected, arranged, and purchased for a single, unambiguous purpose: to seduce.

There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen

My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams; And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams.

Vous êtes comme les roses du Bengale, Marianne, sans épines et sans parfum.

But aesthetics is not religion, and the origins of religion lie somewhere completely different. They lie anyway, these roses smell too sweet and the deep roar of the breaking waves is too splendid, to do justice to such weighty matters now.

I feel like the Roses were a great group, but I never wanted to try to do it again. I knew I couldn't get a band that would compare to the Roses, that would have an impact like the Roses.

The roses of old time have filled the well. Is it there that you have been hiding, my sweet love?