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It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
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inspirational
love
roses
time
caring
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Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
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You're beautiful, but you're empty...One couldn't die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass, since she's the one I sheltered behind the screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three butterflies). Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose.
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inspirational
love
roses
uniqueness
caring
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Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
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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...
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love
roses
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Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
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For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important?
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importance
longing
love
protection
roses
sheep
stars
thorns
uniqueness
war
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Antoine de Saint-Exupéry |
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I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.
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memory
roses
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L.M. Montgomery |
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"What a lovely thing a rose is!" He walked past the couch to the open window and held up the drooping stalk of a moss-rose, looking down at the dainty blend of crimson and green. It was a new phase of his character to me, for I had never before seen him show any keen interest in natural objects. "There is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as religion," said he, leaning with his back against the shutters. "It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner. Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers."
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flowers
goodness
hope
nature
providence
reason
religion
roses
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Arthur Conan Doyle |
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Feeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip into the visionary end of the dark-sight. The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. The roses said:
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dark
light
magic
reassurance
roses
shadows
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Robin McKinley |
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"That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said."
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roses
sylvia-plath
the-bell-jar
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Sylvia Plath |
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Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?
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companionship
constancy
friendship
love
roses
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Emily Brontë |
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Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-
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death
fitzgerald
happiness
rose
roses
sadness
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F Scott Fitzgerald |
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"Princess," he whispered against her ear. "My beautiful, beautiful princess. I want to spoil you. Pamper you. Indulge you."
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roses
sabrina
teresa-medeiros
whisper
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Teresa Medeiros |
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I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses
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roses
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James Joyce |
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This rose of pearl-coated infinity transforms the diseased slums of a broken heart into a palace made of psalms and gold.
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classic-poems
classic-quotes
compassion
faith
grief
healing-grief
hope
infinity
inspiration
inspiration-for-the-soul
inspirational-quotes
newtown-connecticut
palaces
pearls
pearls-of-wisdom
quotes-for-easter
rebirth
recovery
recovery-from-grief
resurrection
roses
savannah-authors-and-poets
sorrow
spiritual-transformation
spirituality
survival
transformation
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Aberjhani |
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"Roses," she thought sardonically, "All trash, m'dear."
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flowers
roses
sardonic
trash
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Virginia Woolf |
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"The roses started him thinking, how the oddity of them was beautiful and how that oddity was contrived to give them value. "It just struck me - clear and complete all at once - no long figuring about it." He realized that children could be designed. "And I thought to myself, now that would a rose garden worthy of a man's interest." We children would smile and hug him and he would grin around at us and send the twins for a pot of cocoa from the drink wagon and me for a bag of popcorn because the red-haired girls would just throw it out when they finished closing the concession anyway. And we would all be cozy in the warm booth of the van, eating popcorn and drinking cocoa and feeling like Papa's roses."
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design
roses
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Katherine Dunn |
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Lords of melody and song, Lords of roses burning bright, Blue will right the ancient wrong, Though the way is dark and long, Blue will shine with loving light.
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melody
right
roses
song
wrong
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Madeleine L'Engle |
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Mushrooms were the roses in the garden of that unseen world, because the real mushroom plant was underground. The parts you could see - what most people called a mushroom - was just a brief apparition. A cloud flower.
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mushrooms
roses
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Margaret Atwood |
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Then the wind came in with Bart and blew the vase of roses from the table. I stood and stared down at the crystal pieces and the petals scattered about. Why was the wind always trying to tell me something? Something I didn't want to hear!
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gothic
petals-on-the-wind
premonition
roses
vc-andrews
wind
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V.C. Andrews |
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The roses bloomed, thousands of them in a floral amphitheater, blossoms shading from gold and coral at the top of the garden to scarlet and deep pink on tiers below. At the bottom, in the center of the rosy congregation, the palest apricots and ivories perfumed the air.
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perfumes
roses
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Allegra Goodman |
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The rich smell of the rose was almost visible; I fancied it lent a rosy edge to the shadows cast by the firelight.
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roses
scents
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Robin McKinley |
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I loved my dish towel. This one was two-toned, and had, on one side, stitchings of fat purple roses on a lavender background, and on the other side, fat lavender roses on a purple background. Which side to use? An optical-illusion namesake with which I could dry our dishes. It was soft and worn and smelled like no-nonsense laundry detergent.
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dish-towel
lavender
optical-illusion
purple
rose-edelstein
roses
two-toned
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Aimee Bender |