Flower Quotes - Page 26

• When the State withers, humanity flowers.

  Anthony Burgess

  Humanity, States

  Anthony Burgess (1996). “The Wanting Seed”, p.167, W. W. Norton & Company

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• We'll just have to find more flowers in the spring. That's when they bloom, tra la.

  Maud Hart Lovelace

  Spring

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• It is better to be small, colorful, sexy, careless, and peaceful, like the flowers, than large, conservative, repressed, fearful, and aggressive, like the thunder lizards; a lesson, by the way, that the Earth has yet to learn.

  Tom Robbins

  Sexy, Peace, Lessons

  Tom Robbins (2003). “Jitterbug Perfume”, p.280, Bantam

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• When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tup and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank into sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies.

  Sylvia Plath

  Lying, Sleep, Water

  Sylvia Plath (2008). “The Bell Jar”, p.110, Faber & Faber

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• Lies About Love We are all liars, because The truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, Whereas letters are fixed, and we live by the letter of truth. The love I feel for my friend, this year, is different from the love I felt last year. If it were not so, it would be a lie. Yet we reiterate love! love! love! as if it were a coin with fixed value instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.

  D. H. Lawrence

  Liars, Lying, Years

  David Herbert Lawrence (1994). “The Works of D.H. Lawrence: With an Introduction and Bibliography”, p.552, Wordsworth Editions

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• The fate of peoples is made like this, two men in small rooms. Forget the coronations, the conclaves of cardinals, the pomp and processions. This is how the world changes: a counter pushed across a table, a pen stroke that alters the force of a phrase, a woman's sigh as she passes and leaves on the air a trail of orange flower or rose water; her hand pulling close the bed curtain, the discreet sigh of flesh against flesh.

  Hilary Mantel

  Fate, Men, Orange

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• How to explain to the earth that it was more functional as a vegetable patch than a flower garden, just as factories were more functional than schools and boys were more functional as weapons than as humans.

  Kamila Shamsie

  School, Boys, Garden

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• My innocence is a dying flower

  Tite Kubo

  Dying, Innocence

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• Again and Again, however, we know the language of love, and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their end: again and again the two of us go out under the ancient trees, make our bed again and again between the flowers, face to face with the skies

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Language Of Love, Sky, Names

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “Shiver Trilogy (Shiver, Linger, Forever)”, p.189, Scholastic Inc.

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• who knows if the moon's a balloon,coming out of a keen city in the sky--filled with pretty people? ( and if you and I should get into it,if they should take me and take you into their balloon, why then we'd go up higher with all the pretty people than houses and steeples and clouds: go sailing away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited,where always it's Spring)and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves

  e. e. cummings

  Spring, Moon, Clouds

  E. E. Cummings (1996). “Tulips and Chimneys”, p.172, W. W. Norton & Company

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• The brooks flow to their lover, the sea, and the flowers smile at the object of their passion, the light. The mist rolls down to its beloved, the valley. And I? In me is what brooks do not know, what flowers do not hear, what the mist does not apprehend. You see me alone in my love, solitary in my yearning.

  Khalil Gibran

  Passion, Light, Sea

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• Spring TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Spring, Men, Smell

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2009). “Second April: Easyread Super Large 18pt Edition”, p.1, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• A flower can't grow without rain. (Alexion) Too much rain and it drowns. (Danger) And yet the most beautiful of the lotus flowers are the ones that grow in the deepest mud. (Alexion)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Beautiful, Rain, Lotuses

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• Because people learn from their mistakes, Danger. Pain and failure are a natural part of life. It's kind of like a parent who watches their child fall down while learning to walk. Instead of coddling the child, you set them back on their feet and let them try again. They have to stumble before they can run. (Alexion) Do you really believe that we need to have our hearts ripped out? (Danger) A flower can't grow without rain. (Alexion) Too much rain and it drowns. (Danger) And yet the most beautiful of the lotus flowers are the ones that grow in the deepest mud. (Alexion)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Beautiful, Running, Pain

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• Man, Wren. I’m impressed. No woman ever sent flowers to thank me. (Serre) Don’t be that impressed. I’m thinking she didn’t send flowers to thank him. One flower says thank you. This many says she thought he was dead. Or that she killed him. Hmm...I’m thinking, put a tiger in her tank and that didn’t quit rev her up. What she needs is to go hunting for bear. (Dev)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Men, Thinking, Hunting

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• stay together learn the flowers go light

  Gary Snyder

  Light, Together

  Gary Snyder, Jim Harrison (2010). “The Etiquette of Freedom: Gary Snyder, Jim Harrison, and The Practice of the Wild”, p.82, Counterpoint

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• O grant me a house by the beach of a bay, Where the waves can be surly in winter, and play With the sea-weed in summer, ye bountiful powers! And I'd leave all the hurry, the noise, and the fray, For a house full of books, and a garden of flowers.

  Andrew Lang

  Summer, Weed, Beach

  Andrew Lang “The Selected Works of Andrew Lang”, Library of Alexandria

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• Some days I do appreciate things more, eggs, flowers, but then I decide I'm only having an attack of sentimentality, my brain going pastel Technicolor, like a beautiful-sunset greeting cards they used to make so many of in California. High-gloss hearts. The danger is grayout.

  Margaret Atwood

  Beautiful, Heart, Sunset

  Margaret Atwood (1986). “The Handmaid's Tale”, p.200, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Ironic," Betty Lou said at last. "The cereus insists on sunlight---that's why it must be at the end of the yard. And yet it saves its flowers for the moon. The sun never sees what it fathers." It takes from the day," I said, "gives to the night.

  Jerry Spinelli

  Father, Moon, Night

  Jerry Spinelli (2007). “Love, Stargirl”, p.72, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky. Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Song, Morning, Heart

  Rabindranath Tagore (2013). “Gitanjali - Song Offerings”, p.19, Read Books Ltd

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• While Maddox now believed the demon did not want to hurt Ashlyn, he wasn't willing to take a chance. He would talk about flowers and moonbeams - he cringed - if it meant maintaining this delectable inner peace. "Is there a way to break your death-curse?" Ashlyn asked. So much for flowers and moon-beams.

  Gena Showalter

  Hurt, Moon, Inner Peace

  Gena Showalter (2016). “The Darkest Night”, p.158, HQN Books

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• Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.

  Matsuo Basho

  World

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• Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day.

  Oscar Wilde

  Summer, Vanity, Soul

  Oscar Wilde, General Press (2016). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: Novel, Short Stories, Poetry, Essays and Plays”, p.20, GENERAL PRESS

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• Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day and night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and space, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust. Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your palpitating heart. The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother- dust.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Mother, Sweet, Children

  Rabindranath Tagore, “Lover's Gifts XLIV: Where Is Heaven”

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• Like any normal fifth grader, I preferred my villains to be evil and stay that way, to act like Dracula rather than Frankenstein's monster, who ruined everything by handing that peasant girl a flower. He sort of made up for it by drowning her a few minutes later, but, still, you couldn't look at him the same way again.

  David Sedaris

  Girl, Evil, Normal

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