Quotes About Petals

The true and serious beauty of trees, how it seemed insane that they should offer this to us, how unworthy we were, bewildered, how soon we were nearly weeping at their trunks as they tossed down petal after petal, and we tried to remember how it felt to receive and notice the receiving, pink, pink, pink, pink, pink.

Spring scatters the petals of flowers that are not for the fruits of the future, but for the moment's whim.

Seule, ô abondante fleur, tu crées ton propre espace; tu te mires dans und glace d'odeur. Ton parfum entoure comme d'autres pétales ton innombrable calice. Je te retiens, tu t'étales, prodigieuse actrice.

C'est toi qui prépares en toi plus que toi, ton ultime essence. Ce qui sort de toi, ton ultime essence. Ce qui sort de toi, ce troublant émoi, c'est ta danse. Chaque pétale consent et fait dans le vent quelques pas odorants invisibles. Ô musiques des yeux, toute entourée d'eux, tu deviens au milieu intangible.

In all cases love was a strong emotion, not easily contained once it was unleashed. I realized now that love was like a blossoming flower that continually added more and more petals. But there was no end point. There was no full bloom. It went on forever. Growing, strengthening.

The white petals spun down around them, covering the grass and speckling their fur, while thirty feet above a thrush sang, "Cherry dew, cherry dew. Knee deep, knee deep, knee deep.

yet it seems Life scarce can cast a fragrance on the wind, Scarce spread a glory to the morning beams, But the torn petals strew the garden plot; And there's but common greenness after that.

I slumbered spring's morning and missed the dawn from everywhere, I heard the cry of birds. That night the sound of wind and rain came. Who knows how many petals had fallen?

Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music

Come see the cherry trees of a water constellationand the round key of the rapid universe, come touch the fire of instantaneous blue, come before its petals are consumed.

Life is like a magical bud hoping to bloom into a beautiful flower that will beautify humanity with her petals of love.

Takes birth in me, also, dies in debris.I am a Potpourri.A mix of dead petals, effusing divine fragrance.Walking on the journey, of controversy.I am a Potpourri.

Oh, you cherry petals, On this calm and balmy day, Why are you so restless, So keen to fly away? / ????? ????? ???? ????? ??????

Joseph thought he knew the plants that had sought out the twitterers, and those that had risen for the wren, or a fern that turned, not to the sun, but toward the chatter of the chickadee, so quick were the petals of its song, so sharp so plentiful so light, so showy in their symmetry, so suddenly in shade.

Spirit, God, gathers unformed thoughts into their proper channels, and unfolds these thoughts, even as He opens the petals of a holy purpose in order that the purpose may appear.

red-trunked rhododendron trees looked like so many writhing russet snakes. In some places the forest floor was carpeted crimson with fallen rhododendron petals.

Clown in the Moon My tears are like the quiet drift Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift Of unremembered skies and snows. I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.

Nothing is left in my memory of a summer that promised nothing. except the ominous end of it. But I remember clearly that autumn when darkness came to lend its cover to a killing season seeing at last these ill-at-ease petals estranged from moonlight and still related to it: outcasts of metal, of steel

Her eyes opened. They were like petals submerged in tiny bowls of unchanged water.

Dusk" The shadow covers the outer petals The wind makes off with the final gestures of leaves The foreign, now twice-silenced sea inside a summer pitied for its lights A longing from here A memory from there

History that is presented only as ink-embalmed data is as a flower pressed in a book. Although the dry petals still hold all the elements of the original flower, they cannot show us how it looked blooming in the field. The color and fragrance - the true reality - or the flowers are gone.

The goddess Aphrodite floated around them on a small white cloud, strewing rose petals in the giantess's eyes and calling encouragement to Piper. 'Lovely, my dear. Yes, good. Hit her again!

Daisies, just starting to close their petals, littered the grass like fallen stars.

Margherita stared at the mask. It was painted bright yellow and marked with little copper-colored circles to suggest florets. White petals streaked with gold radiated out in all directions. Long golden eyelashes fringed the eye slits, and the mouth was painted as a big happy smile. 'La sua bella,' she whispered, her lisp more pronounced than ever.