Myrtle Quotes

• It was roses, roses, all the way,
  With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.

  Robert Browning

  Flower, Mad, Rose

  Robert Browning, John Woolford, Daniel Karlin (1991). “The Poems of Browning: 1847-1861”, p.216, Pearson Education

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• Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.

  James Montgomery

  Flower, Dark, Snow

  James Montgomery (1857). “The select poetical works of James Montgomery”, p.78

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• There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes he smiles upon the earth.

  Khalil Gibran

  Pain, Eye, Hands

  Khalil Gibran, “Giving Chapter V”

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• As it fell upon a day
  In the merry month of May,
  Sitting in a pleasant shade
  Which a grove of myrtles made.

  Richard Barnfield

  Sitting, May, Shade

  'Poems: In Divers Humours' (1598) 'An Ode'

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• but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Vitality, Nerves, Body

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Echoes of the Jazz Age Collection: The Beautiful and Damned, Winter Dreams, The Great Gatsby, Babylon Revisited, The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and many more”, p.493, e-artnow

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• Nor myrtle--which means chiefly love: and love
  Is something awful which one dare not touch
  So early o' mornings.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Morning, Mean, Love Is

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Theodore Tilton (1862). “Poems”, p.38

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• Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed With seeds ofjasmine, lilies, and myrtle; and when they Grow above me and thrive on my body's element they will Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space.

  Khalil Gibran

  Heart, Space, Elements

  Khalil Gibran (2007). “Kahlil Gibran: Masterpieces”

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• Wax myrtle: The birds love this stuff.

  Mike Thompson

  Bird, Stuff, Love Bird

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• My only failure was the restaurant in Myrtle Beach. I kept it open for four years. It was in a tourist town, it was only busy four and half, five months of the year. But the bills kept coming all year.

  Mickey Gilley

  Beach, Years, Tourism

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• Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured His glassy essence--like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, would all themselves laugh mortal.

  William Shakespeare

  Angel, Men, Essence

  William Shakespeare, N. W. Bawcutt (1998). “Measure for Measure”, p.128, Oxford University Press, USA

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• I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm -- that I'm --" "Already dead," said Ron hopefully. Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

  J. K. Rowling

  Sight, Air, Water

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• Silence and reserve will give anyone a reputation for wisdom.

  Myrtle Reed

  Wisdom, Giving, Silence

  Myrtle Reed (1916). “Old Rose and Silver”, p.3, Library of Alexandria

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• Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

  John Milton

  Years, Ivy, Rude

  'Lycidas' (1638) l. 1

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• Smell brings to mind... a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years.

  Diane Ackerman

  Senior, Sweet, Memories

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• You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the LORD's renown, for an everlasting sign, which will not be destroyed.

  Isaiah

  Song, Hands, Tree

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• I mean to be too rich to lament or to feel anything of the sort. A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of. It certainly may secure all the myrtle and turkey part of it.

  Jane Austen

  Mean, Turkeys, Income

  'Mansfield Park' (1814) ch. 22

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• Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom, Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose!

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Blow, Blue, Wind

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Thomas Carlyle (1824). “Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: A Novel”, p.229

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• I wept to think that life went on even when so much had been lost, that rain still fell and myrtle grew between the rocks.

  Alice Hoffman

  Rain, Thinking, Rocks

  Alice Hoffman (2011). “The Dovekeepers”, p.69, Simon and Schuster

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• Is it where the flow'r of the orange blows, And the fireflies dance thro' the myrtle boughs?

  Felicia Hemans

  Firefly, Blow, Orange

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• Among the myrtles the mantids moved, lightly, carefully, swaying slightly, the quintessence of evil. They were lank and green, with chinless faces and monstrous globular eyes, frosty gold, with an expression of intense, predatory madness in them. The crooked arms, with their fringes of sharp teeth, would be raised in mock supplication to the insect world, so humble, so fervent, trembling slightly when a butterfly flew too close.

  Gerald Durrell

  Humble, Butterfly, Eye

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• Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.

  Diane Ackerman

  Love, Summer, Beach

  "A Natural History of the Senses". Book by Diane Ackerman, 1990.

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• I took care of my wheel as one would look after a Rolls Royce. If it needed repairs I always brought it to the same shop on Myrtle Avenue run by a negro named Ed Perry. He handled the bike with kid gloves, you might say. He would always see to it that neither front nor back wheel wobbled. Often he would do a job for me without pay, because, as he put it, he never saw a man so in love with his bike as I was.

  Henry Miller

  Running, Jobs, Love You

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• The scent organ was playing a delightfully refreshing Herbal Capriccio - rippling arpeggios of thyme and lavender, of rosemary, basil, myrtle, tarragon; a series of daring modulations through the spice keys into ambergris; and a slow return through sandalwood, camphor, cedar and newmown hay (with occasional subtle touches of discord - a whiff of kidney pudding, the faintest suspicion of pig's dung) back to the simple aromatics with which the piece began. The final blast of thyme died away; there was a round of applause; the lights went up.

  Aldous Huxley

  Simple, Keys, Light

  Aldous Huxley (1950). “The Collected Works of Aldous Huxley: Brave new world”

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• Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would’ve done everyone a favor. . . .

  J. K. Rowling

  Done, Favors, Weasley

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• This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea. These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine. "O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? Was not the body dear to you?" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue.

  Sara Teasdale

  Lying, Flower, Gay

  Sara Teasdale (1917). “Love Songs”

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