Rose Quotes - Page 32

• Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students. "Don’t let it worry you," said Ron. "It’s me. I’m extremely famous.

  J. K. Rowling

  Humor, Worry, Looks

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• Death is a great price to pay for a red rose“, cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. “ It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent oft he hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?

  Oscar Wilde

  Sweet, Heart, Blow

  Oscar Wilde (2008). “Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde”, p.24, Penguin

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• Yet, she said to herself, form the dawn of time odes have been sung to love; wreaths heaped and roses; and if you asked nine people out of ten they would say they wanted nothing but this--love; while the women, judging from her own experience, would all the time be feeling, This is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than this; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.

  Virginia Woolf

  Beautiful, Judging, People

  Virginia Woolf (2013). “Ao farol: To the lighthouse: Edição bilíngue português - inglês”, p.250, Editora Landmark LTDA

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• I smiled at him as best I could and pushed the paper across the table before he could change his mind. Because Henry DeVille was correct - there was an ingredient in my baking more concenctrated than any extract, more pungent than any spice; an ingredient that everyone would recognize and no one was able to name: it was regret, and it rose when one least expected.

  Jodi Picoult

  Regret, Names, Mind

  Jodi Picoult (2012). “The Jodi Picoult Collection #4: Change of Heart, Handle with Care, and House Rules”, p.689, Simon and Schuster

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• You must have a bladder like Lake Erie. I think empires rose and fell in the time it took you to pee. I could hear it the whole time." Thank you. Do you want something?

  Neil Gaiman

  Thinking, Lakes, Want Something

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• Women Are Not Roses Women have no beginning only continual flows. Though rivers flow women are not rivers. Women are not roses they are not oceans or stars. i would like to tell her this but i think she already knows.

  Ana Castillo

  Stars, Ocean, Thinking

  Ana Castillo (1984). “Women are Not Roses”, Arte Publico Press

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• I rose to my knees, mouth dry and heart pounding, and paused to finger a rip in my beautiful Dacron bowling shirt. I pushed my fingertip through the hole and wiggled it at myself. Hello, Dexter, where are you going? Hello, Mr. Finger. I don't know, but I'm almost there. I hear my friends calling.

  Jeff Lindsay

  Beautiful, Rip, Heart

  Jeff Lindsay (2005). “Darkly Dreaming Dexter”, p.200, Vintage Crime/Black Lizard

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• Not enough." Margo rose and tucked the towel in place. " Come on, let's go stuff her in a locker. For old time's sake.

  Nora Roberts

  Lockers, Towels, Stuff

  Nora Roberts (1996). “Daring to Dream”, p.175, Penguin

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• A rose trapped inside a fist.

  Henry Rollins

  Fists, Trapped

  Henry Rollins (2009). “The Portable Henry Rollins”, p.269, Villard

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• It is sad to see a young man's fondest hopes and dreams shattered when the rose-colured veil is plucked away and he sees the actions and feelings of men for what they are. But he still has the hope of replacing his old illusions with others, just as fleeting, but also just as sweet.

  Mikhail Lermontov

  Dream, Sweet, Men

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• Back and forth she went each morning by the river, spring arriving once again; foolish, foolish spring, breaking open its tiny buds, and what she couldn’t stand was how—for many years, really—she had been made happy by such a thing. She had not thought she would ever become immune to the beauty of the physical world, but there you were. The river sparkled with the sun that rose, enough that she needed her sunglasses.

  Elizabeth Strout

  Morning, Spring, Years

  Elizabeth Strout (2008). “Olive Kitteridge: Fiction”, p.258, Random House

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• A rose by any other name Would get the blame For being what it is-- The colour of a kiss, The shadow of a flame. A rose may earn another name, So call it love; So call it love I will, And love is like the sea, Which changes constantly, And yet is still The same.

  Tanith Lee

  Kissing, Love Is, Flames

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• Rose? Is that you?" I peered behind him. Lissa. "What are you doing here?" "What are you doing here?" She asked "Ladies, ladies" he said teasingly. "No need to fight over me." I glared. "We're not.

  Richelle Mead

  Fighting, Needs, Said

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• Think of your pain like a bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.

  Francesca Lia Block

  Beautiful, Pain, Thinking

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• His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there right then in that moment before the sun rose and the hospital staff came in. It was about touching that hair with the side of his fingertip, and knowing yet plumbing fearlessly the depths of her ocean eyes.

  Alice Sebold

  Mother, Ocean, Eye

  Alice Sebold (2014). “The Lovely Bones: Picador Classic”, p.198, Pan Macmillan

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• ...she had come long ago to understand that loneliness was the curse of those who were free, even of all those who rose a little above the level of ordinary humanity.

  Louis Bromfield

  Loneliness, Long Ago, Humanity

  Louis Bromfield (1957). “The Green Bay Tree Early Autums A Good Woman .”

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• By the way, my name's Rose Hathaway. I'm seventeen years old, training to protect and kill vampires, in love with a completely unsuitable guy, and have a best friend whose weird magic could drive her crazy. Hey, no one said high school was easy.

  Richelle Mead

  Crazy, School, Years

  Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.188, Penguin

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• What's your name?" what?" i asked, squinting at the light. your name." I reconized Dr. Olendzki peering over me. you know my name." I want you to tell me." Rose. Rose Hathaway." Do you know your birthday?" Of course I do. Why are you asking me such stupid things? Did you lose my records?" Dr. Olendzki gave an exasperated sigh and walked off, taking the annoying light with her. "I think she's fine.

  Richelle Mead

  Stupid, Thinking, Light

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• Some people have written that my writing has helped them go on. It has helped me too. The writing, the roses, the 9 cats.

  Charles Bukowski

  Cat, Writing, People

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• every time I've held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns

  Billy Joel

  Life, Relationship, Thorns

  Song: And So It Goes, Album: Storm Front, 1989

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• The sun rose slowly, as if it wasn't sure it was worth all the effort.

  Terry Pratchett

  Effort, Sun, Ifs

  Terry Pratchett (2009). “The Light Fantastic: (Discworld Novel 2)”, p.9, Random House

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• They say that Hope is happiness But genuine Love must prize the past; And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose first -- they set the last. And all that mem'ry loves the most Was once our only hope to be: And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! It is delusion all-- The future cheats us from afar: Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are.

  Lord Byron

  Memories, Past, Thinking

  George Gordon Byron, “Stanzas For Music: They Say That Hope Is Happiness”

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• He took something out of his jacket and handed it to her. It was a long thin dagger in a leather sheath. The hilt of the dagger was set with a single red stone carved in the shape of a rose. She shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to use that--" He pressed it into her hand, curling her fingers around it. "You'd learn." He dropped his voice. "It's in your blood." She drew her hand back slowly. "All right." "I could give you a thigh sheath to put that in," Isabelle offered. "I've got tons." "CERTAINLY NOT," said Simon.

  Cassandra Clare

  Blood, Hands, Voice

  Cassandra Clare (2015). “City of Bones: TV Tie-in”, p.214, Simon and Schuster

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• So, what do you do when you know you have two days to live? Eat an entire Bitter Chocolate Death cake all by myself. Reread my favorite novel. Buy eight dozen roses from the best florist in town--the super expensive ones, the ones that smell like roses rather than merely looking like them--and put them all over my apartment. Take a good long look at everyone I love.

  Robin McKinley

  Eight, Cake, Two

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• He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?

  J. K. Rowling

  Heart, Alive, Lasts

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