Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into.
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life.
A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.
Life is the flower for which love is the honey.
Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
Where there is love there is life.
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.
The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.
A flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it. It just blooms.
Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
Art is the flower of life and, as seed, it gives back life.
Art is the flower... life the green leaf.
The flowers of life are but illusions. How many fade away and leave no trace.
The flowers, the gorgeous, mystic multi-coloured flowers are not the flowers of life, but people, yes people are the true flowers of life, and it has been a most precious pleasure to have temporarily strolled in your garden.
I call the light and high aspects of my being spirit and the dark and heavy aspects soul. Soul is at home in the deep, shaded valleys. Heavy torpid flowers saturated with black grow there. The rivers flow like warm syrup. They empty into huge oceans of soul. Spirit is a land of high white peaks and glittering jewel-like lakes and flowers. Life is sparse and sounds travel great distances. There is soul music, soul food, and soul love... People need to climb the mountain not simple because it is there But because the soulful divinity needs to be mated with the spirit.
Think about the flowers. Life is just a bunch of pretty pictures. All this is supposed to do is force you beyond the mind, when you realize that you can't figure it out.
Something he knew he had missed: the flower of life. But he thought of it now as a thing so unattainable and improbable that to have repined would have been like despairing because one had not drawn the first prize in a lottery.
The seeds of Death are sown in us when we begin to live, and grow up till, like rampant weeds, they choak the tender flower of life.
or simply:
