White Rose Quotes

• Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose.
  For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.

  William Shakespeare

  Sweet, Flower, Air

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• The red rose whispers of passion,
  And the white rose breathes of love;
  O, the red rose is a falcon,
  And the white rose is a dove.

  John Boyle O'Reilly

  Flower, Passion, White

  John Boyle O'Reilly, Liam Barry (1994). “Selected poems, speeches, dedications and letters of John Boyle O'Reilly, 1844-1890”

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• There has fallen a splendid tear
  From the passion-flower at the gate.
  She is coming, my dove, my dear;
  She is coming, my life, my fate;
  The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
  And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
  The larkspur listens, "I hear; I hear;"
  And the lily whispers, "I wait."

  Alfred Lord Tennyson

  Life, Flower, Passion

  'Maud' (1855) pt. 1, sect. 22, st. 10

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• Just remember, during the winter, far beneath the bitter snow, that there's a seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes a rose.

  Bette Midler

  Spring, Winter, Snow

  18 Copy quote

• White rose in red rose-garden Is not so white; Snowdrops, that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows Over their maiden vows, Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.

  Algernon Charles Swinburne

  Blow, Garden, White

  28 Copy quote

• Whenever I have a problem, I ask the Saint (Thérèse of Lisieux) not to solve it, but to take it into her hands and to help me accept it and I almost always receive a white rose as a sign.

  Pope Francis

  Hands, White, Rose

  27 Copy quote

• There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.

  Henri Matisse

  Art, Flower, Rose

  27 Copy quote

• I can't have white roses. They symbolize death.

  Nina Arianda

  White, Rose, I Can

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• Don't cry, you crybaby! When you think things are hard, that's the time you are maturing as a person. If you get over the darkness, a wonderful new day will come. The bright morning will be filled with light and the birds will be singing . There'll be white roses with a lovely fragrance.

  Aya Kito

  Morning, Thinking, White

  32 Copy quote

• It's there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snows greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again.

  Suzanne Collins

  Flower, Fire, Blue

  13 Copy quote

• then, as though it had been waiting on a near by roof for their arrival, the moon came slanting suddenly through the vines and turned the girl's face the color of white roses.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Girl, Moon, Color

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.753, e-artnow

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• Ever since Blessed Alan de la Roche re-established this devotion the voice of the people, which is the voice of God, called it the Rosary. The word Rosary means "Crown of Roses" that is to say that every time people say the Rosary devoutly they place a crown of one hundred and fifty-three red roses and sixteen white roses upon the heads of Jesus and Mary. Being heavenly flowers these roses will never fade or lose their exquisite beauty.

  Louis de Montfort

  Jesus, Flower, Blessed

  St. Louis de Montfort (1983). “The Secret of the Rosary”, p.27, TAN Books

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• I'm not sure there are enough white roses in the world to make me forget Richard." I held up my hand before she could interrupt. "But I'm not sure there are enough cozy afternoons in all eternity to make me forget Jean-Claude.

  Laurell K. Hamilton

  Hands, White, Rose

  5 Copy quote

• I think Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about a robin who loved a white rose. He loved it so much that he pierced his breast and let his heart's blood turn the white rose red. Maybe this sounds very sentimental, but for anybody who has loved a career as much as I've loved mine, there can be no short cuts.

  Mary Pickford

  Heart, Cutting, Thinking

  23 Copy quote

• And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.... And as to you corpse, I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips — I reach to the polished breasts of melons. And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.

  Walt Whitman

  Death, Sweet, Thinking

  Walt Whitman, “Song Of Myself, XLIX”

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• Cultivo una rosa blanca, En julio como en enero, Para el amigo sincero Que me da su mano franca. Y para el cruel que me arranca El corazon con que vivo, Cardo ni oruga cultivo Cultivo una rosa blanca. I have a white rose to tend In July as in January; I give it to the true friend Who offers his frank hand to me. And to the cruel one whose blows Break the heart by which I live, Thistle nor thorn do I give: For him, too, I have a white rose.

  Jose Marti

  True Friend, Heart, Blow

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• Whether I'm making a recipe or a piece of jewelry or a white-rose-and-jasmine tea or the perfume, I like to think of myself as a happy little sorceress, and if I could just have a little general store with all that stuff and give people a sense of my taste, that would be lovely.

  Padma Lakshmi

  Thinking, White, Giving

  10 Copy quote

• Who among us has any conception of the dimensions of shame that will befall us and our children when one day the veil has fallen from our eyes and the most horrible of crimes...reach the light of day?

  Hans Scholl

  Children, Eye, Light

  47 Copy quote

• Will sat where he was, gazing at the silver bowl in front of him; a white rose was floating in it, and he seemed prepared to stare at it until it went under. In the Kitchen Bridget was still singing one of her awful sad songs; the lyrics drifted in through the door: "Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, 'Saw ye my father? Or ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William?" I may murder her, Tessa thought. Let her make a song about that.

  Cassandra Clare

  Mother, Sweet, Song

  Cassandra Clare (2013). “Clockwork Prince”, p.494, Simon and Schuster

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