I like roses, ones with sharp thorns. Pretty to look at but hurts to touch, that's like me.
Free from passion and desire, you have stripped the thorns from the stem.
We must not hope to be mowers, And to gather the ripe gold ears, Unless we have first been sowers And water the furrows with tears. It is not just as we take it, This mystical world of ours, Life's field will yield as we make it A harvest of thorns or of flowers.
You cannot show people only the petals and not the thorns. It's not fair to them.
March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.
The flower which is single need not envy the thorns that are numerous.
A crown of roses is also a crown of thorns.
There is no rose without thorns.
There's no dearth of kindness In the world of ours; Only in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers.
I am thankful that thorns have roses.
What good does it do me, after all, if an ever-watchful authority keeps an eye out to ensure that my pleasures will be tranquil and races ahead of me to ward off all danger, sparing me the need even to think about such things, if that authority, even as it removes the smallest thorns from my path, is also absolute master of my liberty and my life; if it monopolizes vitality and existence to such a degree that when it languishes, everything around it must also languish; when it sleeps, everything must also sleep; and when it dies, everything must also perish?
I Fall upon the thorns of life.
My life is part humor, part roses, part thorns.
So it is with life. Those thorns, the prickly problems of life, cause us to strive to rise above them and then, as we do, we learn. We learn to exercise true compassion, true kindness - or the thorns, if we let them, cause us to brood, to mourn over our trials. Then we plant the seeds of bitterness, hate, and ruin - weeds. We may reach up for the rose or down to the weeds...the weeds in life that tangle us, strangle us, and cause us to lose hope.
Love can grown among the rocks and thorns of life.
Surgery is the red flower that blooms among the leaves and thorns that are the rest of medicine.
The end for which we are created invites us to walk a road that is surely sown with a lot of thorns, but it is not sad; through even the sorrow, it is illuminated by joy.
Although the life of a person is in a land full of thorns and weeds, there is always a space in which the good seed can grow. You have to trust God.
Look at this tangle of thorns.
The head that once was crowned with thorns Is crowned with glory now.
The honey is guarded by bees.. The rose has thorns.. To enjoy the sweet & beautiful you can NOT be cowardly.
They gave our Master a crown of thorns, why do we hope for a crown of roses?
Lean too much upon the approval of people, and it becomes a bed of thorns.
Every noble crown is, and on Earth will forever be, a crown of thorns.
Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
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