It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.
I am in awe of flowers.
Not because of their colors,
but because even though they
have dirt in their roots,
they still grow.
They still bloom.
Texting and phone calls, fireworks, blends, café au lait, and music. Yesterday's television. Work and beer. The neighbor's dog, or those strange flowers, the way it smells at Maisen. Those ordinary things I talk about with you. With you... I want to talk about love with you.
I take my metal canister of tea off the shelf. It is my own mixture of dried lavender blossoms and lemon balm, harvested from my garden and hung in the storeroom to dry. Weed helped me hang these stalks, I think. His hands touched these tender leaves, just as they touch me.
She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her...
He said that we belonged together because he was born with a flower and I was born with a butterfly and that flowers and butterflies need each other for survival.
What we do see depends mainly on what we look for. ... In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, the geologists the fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportmen the cover for the game. Though we may all look at the same things, it does not all follow that we should see them.
Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.
Truth cannot be changed. When all the flowers of the world are dead, there will still be a true thing that is a flower.
Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the mind.
Let it rain on some days,
Let yourself shiver on some cold nights,
So when it's Spring you'll know why it was all worth going through.
One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies.
“They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.
The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower - suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day, and now I place them here in memory of something that has died.
An enemy is like a man's most prized flower. It brings him joy to see it buried in the ground.
It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.
In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.
If Springtime crawls out of the
wild mouths of flowers, then
surely, Winter crawls out of mine.
It is said there are flowers that bloom only once in a hundred years. Why should there not be some that bloom once in a thousand, in ten thousand years? Perhaps we never know about them simply because this "once in a thousand years" has come today.
Spring is a time to make up a big bouquet of flowers for someone you love, or are trying to love, or are in love with.
- Ты хочешь знать, как быть, если сделал что-то не так? Отвечаю, детка: никогда не проси про
When the young woman
leans over the sky,
about to water the flowers as well as the weeds,
her white front splits open
until her milk runs.
The beauty of that June day was almost staggering. After the wet spring, everything that could turn green had outdone itself in greenness and everything that could even dream of blooming or blossoming was in bloom and blossom. The sunlight was a benediction. The breezes were so caressingly soft and intimate on the skin as to be embarrassing.
These flowers will be rotten in a couple hours. Birds will crap on them. The smoke here will make them stink, and tomorrow a bulldozer will probably run over them, but for right now they are so beautiful.
How did these organs of plant sex manage to get themselves cross-wired with human ideas of value and status and Eros? And what might our ancient attraction for flowers have to teach us about the deeper mysteries of beauty - what one poet has called "this grace wholly gratuitous"? Is that what it is? Or does beauty have a purpose? (64)
Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that
Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers, because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.
Maa kuohuu syreenien sinipunaisia terttuja,
pihlajain valkeata kukkahärmää,
tervakkojen punaisia tähtisikermiä.
Sinisiä, keltaisia, valkeita kukkia
lainehtivat niityt mielettöminä merinä.
Ja tuoksua!
Ihanampaa kuin pyhä suitsutus!
Kuumaa ja värisevää ja hulluksijuovuttavaa,
pakanallista maan ihon tuoksua!
The flowers' beauty drew her closer to them like a magnetic force. She felt compelled to walk a little faster.
Somewhere on the world was the Emperor's palace, set amid one hundred square miles of natural soil, rainbowed with flowers.
Miriam - I'll give you any flowers you want!' Rhapsodising over the thousand scents of her body, I exclaimed: 'I'll grow orchids from your hands, roses from your breasts. You can have magnolias in your hair...!'
'And in my heart?'
'In your womb I'll set a fly-trap!
Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
A few blossoms float into the room. They drop like frayed yellow ribbons on the gray carpet.
Daffy bent down suddenly, and picked a small startled white flower. "Anemone," he said, handing it over; he made her repeat the word until she had it right. "Find me a silk to match that.
She grew up in the ordinary paradise of the English countryside. When she was five she walked to school, two miles, across meadows covered with cowslips, buttercups, daisies, vetch, rimmed by hedges full of blossom and then berries, blackthorn, hawthorn, dog-roses, the odd ash tree with its sooty buds.
Trees were not hard, irritable things, but discreetly orgasmic beings moaning at a level too deep for our brutish ears. And flowers were quick explosive orgasms, like making love in the shower.
There's nothing quite like the pleasure you get from plants and flower," he said to himself. "They certainly do cheer you up.
I hear he liked flowers pretty well."
"Yes," said Annie, "he said they were the friends who always came back and never disappointed him."
-"Out, Brief Candle
In a painful time of my life I went often to a wooded hillside where May apples grew by the hundreds, and I thought the sourness of their fruit had a symbolism for me. Instead, I was to find both love and happiness soon thereafter. So to me [the May apple] is the mandrake, the love symbol, of the old dealers in plant restoratives.
Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.
The scent of flowers is the glory of gardens and the scent of art is the glory of Paris!
She would also be creating her own bridal bouquet. She wanted to feel the fragility and softness of each petal. And to make the single flowers stronger than they’d been separately. Just as she was stronger now, together with people who loved and accepted her.
Becky was a weed. Nobody ever wanted them taking over the bigger, prettier plants. People went to all extremes to make them go away. They sprayed poison, pulled until the roots gave way. They felt only like their garden was complete when every tendril was extirpated. This was how she felt from birth.
In the beginning we start with roses. The king’s flower right? Only they wilt in less than a day, especially when exposed to the elements. But Carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every color. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt.
Gardeners produce flowers that are delicious dreams, and others too that are like nightmares.
I had a dream that Zac Effron showed up at my door shirtless with a bouquet of flowers..yep, I’m still waiting on that one to come true.
Chcę czerwień zerwać z kwiatów polnych,
Czerwienią nocy spalić krew,
Jak piersi nieba chcę być wolny,
W chmury się wbić w koronach drzew.
...You won't get eternal life by just feeling the presence of God in flowers or music.
I have seen flowers come in stony places
And kind things done by men with ugly faces,
And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races,
So I trust, too.
I would far rather have two or three lilies of the valley gathered for me by a person I like, than the most expensive bouquet that could be bought!
Gardens and flowers have a way of bringing people together, drawing them from their homes.
How can there be too many children? That is like saying there are too many flowers." ~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta
I wanted to shout down to him, to warn him that he was giving flowers to a monster, but I did not.
People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
I look at everything. God gave me eyes and I look at women and men and subway excavations and moving pictures and the little flowers of the field. I casually inspect the universe.
My pockets had always puzzled Weena, but at the last she had concluded that they were an eccentric kind of vase for floral decoration.
Hobbies are like flowers on plant. They make the plant look beautiful and feel Proud.
Other flowers came at the end of the summer, but by then the winter sadness had already dissipated, and the effect of the blooms was not the same.
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