Flower Quotes - Page 27

• It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things; trees, streams, flowers; felt they expressed one; felt they became one; felt they knew one, in a sense were one; felt an irrational tenderness thus (she looked at that long steady light) as for oneself.

  Virginia Woolf

  Light, Long, Tree

  Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1031, Delphi Classics

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• Ninjas are silly. They are the flower fairies of gong fu and karate.

  Nick Harkaway

  Silly, Ninja, Fairy

  Nick Harkaway (2008). “The Gone-away World”, Random House

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• He stopped and looked at her. "Your eyes are leaking." "It's the flowers. They make me sneeze." "Then let us be away from the garden. Open the door, love, if you will." She obeyed, then froze halfway over the threshold. "What did you call me?" "The first of countless endearments if you'll but stir yourself to hold our current course.

  Lynn Kurland

  Eye, Garden, Doors

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• How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.

  Matsuo Basho

  Long, Dawn, Faces

  Matsuo Basho (1985). “On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho”, p.55, Penguin UK

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• Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back.

  Melissa Marr

  Kissing, Garden, Tree

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• I cannot help thinking that it is more natural to have flowers grow out of the head than fruit.

  Jane Austen

  Thinking, Fruit, Helping

  Jane Austen, Deirdre Le Faye (2011). “Jane Austen's Letters”, p.46, Oxford University Press

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• I hated roses. I hated them for being so trite, so clichéd, a default, all-purpose flower that said I love you, I'm sorry, and get well soon. Give me peonies and tulips, orchids or gardenia. Those were flowers with character.

  Justina Chen

  Sorry, Get Well Soon, Love You

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• [Lennie meets Joe - he works out that she was named after John Lennon] I nod. "Mom was a hippie." This is northern Northern California after all - the final frontier of freakerdom. Just in the eleventh grade we have a girl named Electricity, a guy named Magic Bus, and countless flowers: Tulip, Begonia, and Poppy - all parent-given-on-the-birth-certificate names. Tulip is a two-ton bruiser of a guy who would be the star of out football team if we were the kind of school that has optional morning meditation in the gym

  Jandy Nelson

  Girl, Mom, Football

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• As the rose-tree is composed of the sweetest flowers and the sharpest thorns, as the heavens are sometimes overcast—alternately tempestuous and serene—so is the life of man intermingled with hopes and fears, with joys and sorrows, with pleasure and pain.

  Edmund Burke

  Inspirational, Pain, Men

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• If you are feeling more yourself, there is a problem best addressed immediately," said the queen. "In my nightshirt?" The king wriggled, as ever, out of straightforward obedience. "Your attendants. I have spoken to them. You will speak to them as well." "Ah. They have seen me in my nightshirt." He looked down at his sleeve, embroidered with white flowers. "Not in your nightshirt, though.

  Megan Whalen Turner

  Kings, Queens, White

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• The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee, Expend their bloom in vain. Come over the hills and far with me, And be my love in the rain.

  Robert Frost

  Rain, Clouds, Storm

  Robert Frost, Thomas Fasano (2008). “Selected Early Poems of Robert Frost”, p.40, Coyote Canyon Press

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• You know–my flower, I am responsible for her. She doesn’t even have four thorns to protect herself from harm.’ (Zarek) Why do you love that book so? (Astrid) Because I want to hear the bells when I look up at the sky. I want to laugh, but I don’t know how. (Zarek)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Book, Sky, Laughing

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• O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets!

  Virginia Woolf

  Pages, Shakespeare's Sonnets, Presses

  Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Waves”, p.64, Virginia Woolf

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• I have mastered many things in my life. Navigating the streets of London, speaking French without an accent, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms..." Tessa stared. "Alas," he went on, "no one has ever actually referred to me as 'the master,' or 'the magister,' either. More's the pity.

  Cassandra Clare

  Art, Lying, Dancing

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• Life rises out of death, death rises out of life; in being opposite they yearn to each other, they give birth to each other and are forever reborn. And with them, all is reborn, the flower of the apple tree, the light of the stars. In life is death. In death is rebirth. What then is life without death? Life unchanging, everlasting, eternal?-What is it but death-death without rebirth?

  Ursula K. Le Guin

  Stars, Light, Opposites

  Ursula K. Le Guin (2012). “The Farthest Shore”, p.124, Simon and Schuster

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• in a middle of a room stands a suicide sniffing a Paper rose smiling to a self "somewhere it is Spring and sometimes people are in real:imagine somewhere real flowers,but I can't imagine real flowers for if I could,they would somehow not Be real" (so he smiles smiling)"but I will not everywhere be real to you in a moment" The is blond with small hands "& everything is easier than I had guessed everything would be;even remembering the way who looked at whom first,anyhow dancing

  e. e. cummings

  Suicide, Spring, Real

  E. E. Cummings (1997). “ViVa”, p.29, W. W. Norton & Company

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• Cemeteries in Bohemia are like gardens. The graves are covered with grass and colourful flowers. Modest tombstones are lost in the greenery. When the sun goes down, the cemetery sparkles with tiny candles... no matter how brutal life becomes, peace always reigns in the cemetery. Even in wartime, even in Hitler's time, even in Stalin's time.

  Milan Kundera

  Tombstone, Garden, Reign

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• Later she sat on the ground in the forest between school and home, and spring was so bright and beautiful, the warm air touched her so tenderly, she could almost feel herself changing into a flower. Her light dress felt like petals. "I love everything," she heard herself say. "So do I," a voice answered. Pearl straightened up and looked around. No one was there.

  William Steig

  Beautiful, Spring, Home

  William Steig (2013). “The Amazing Bone”, p.10, Macmillan

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• For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.

  Sara Teasdale

  Grief, Wine, Color

  Sara Teasdale, William Drake (1984). “Mirror of the Heart: Poems of Sara Teasdale”, MacMillan Publishing Company

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• Whoever reaches into a rosebush may seize a handful of flowers; but no matter how many one holds, it's only a small portion of the whole. Nevertheless, a handful is enough to experience the nature of the flowers. Only if we refuse to reach into the bush, because we can't possibly seize all the flowers at once, or if we spread out our handful of roses as if it were the whole of the bush itself -- only then does it bloom apart from us, unknown to us, and we are left alone.

  Lou Andreas-Salomé

  Rose, Doe, May

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• No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left to me. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Stars, Memories, Eye

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Return of the King: Being the Third Part of the Lord of the Rings”, p.916, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• who wants flowers when youre dead? nobody.

  J. D. Salinger

  Religion, Want

  J.D. Salinger (1951). “The Catcher in the Rye”

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• We say that flowers return every spring, but that is a lie. It is true that the world is renewed. It is also true that that renewal comes at a price, for even if the flower grows from an ancient vine, the flowers of spring are themselves new to the world, untried and untested. The flower that wilted last year is gone. Petals once fallen are fallen forever. Flowers do not return in the spring, rather they are replaced. It is in this difference between returned and replaced that the price of renewal is paid. And as it is for spring flowers, so it is for us.

  Daniel Abraham

  Spring, Lying, Years

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• The woman wears a floral print blouse with lots of leaves and pink flowers. Risa would like to attack her with a weed whacker.

  Neal Shusterman

  Weed, Blouses, Print

  Neal Shusterman (2009). “Unwind”, p.268, Simon and Schuster

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• I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else.

  George Bernard Shaw

  Pygmalion, Fit, My Fair Lady

  George Bernard Shaw (2016). “Pygmalion”, p.59, Xist Publishing

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