Quotes
Quotes about Flowers
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.
Crystals grew inside rock like arithmetic flowers. They lengthened and spread, added plane to plane in an awed and perfect obedience to an absolute geometry that even stonesâmaybe only the stonesâunderstood.
True glory takes root, and even spreads; all false pretences, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long.
Like a glowworm golden, in a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden its aerial blue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view.
Creator Venus, genial power of love, The bliss of men below, and gods above! Beneath the sliding sun thou runn'st thy race, Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place; For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear, Thy mouth reveals the spring, and opens all the year; Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly, Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky.
FIRE HAS LEFT THE HEARTH Fire has left the hearth Nautilus climbed from shell Perfume flowed from bottle Prisoner gone from cell Butterfly flutterbied cocoon nor hand restrained by glove Jesus away from manger Cage left by Spirit Dove. Sparklings soared away from wand. Chick's egg become the bird. Omkar sung from out the throat Violin's notes now heard. Buddhist temple pine cone tabernacle'd godlet seed Shattered that it might manifest thousand forests of fir tree Eternal snow of mountain top now nurses meadow flowers. Shining never held by sun relentless melts ice towers. Love has left its spring the heart Is now a liquid pond Host stolen from the chalice consumed in mouth of God Starlight abandoned star a billion years ago Left that tonight you might have its sight and know Know Love is forever no drop of God ever dies Lover not bound by form of love God's bodies are not God's souls (to his wife and children on the death of Robert S) (Baba Hari Das: is the author of love is more powerful than lover for love is not bound by form).
When we heard about the hippies, the barely more than boys and girls who decided to try something different... we laughed at them. We condemned them, our children, for seeking a different future. We hated them for their flowers, for their love, and for their unmistakable rejection of every hideous, mistaken compromise that we had made throughout our hollow, money-bitten, frightened, adult lives.
Quick as a humming bird is my love, Dipping into the hearts of flowers-- She darts so eagerly, swiftly, sweetly Dipping into the flowers of my heart.
When a man brings his wife flowers for no reason, there's a reason.
Among the flowers no perfume is like mine; That which is best in me comes from within. So those in this world who would rise and shine Should seek internal excellence to win. And though 'tis true that falsehood and despair Meet in my name, yet bear it still in mind That where they meet they perish. All is fair When they are gone and nought remains behind.
Jas in the Arab language is despair, And Min the darkest meaning of a lie. Thus cried the Jessamine among the flowers, How justly doth a lie Draw on its head despair! Among the fragrant spirits of the bowers The boldest and the strongest still was I. Although so fair, Therefore from Heaven A stronger perfume unto me was given Than any blossom of the summer hours.
Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom springs. [Lat., Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.]
Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers.
June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers; In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her, In vain would fond winds fan her back to life, Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.
There's no dearth of kindness In the world of ours; Only in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers.
Tell me who first did kisses suggest? It was a mouth all glowing and blest; It kissed and it thought of nothing beside. The fair month of May was then in its pride, The flowers were all from the earth fast springing, The sun was laughing, the birds were singing.
Landscapes have a language of their own, expressing the soul of the things, lofty or humble, which constitute them, from the mighty peaks to the smalles of the tiny flowers hidden in the meadow's grass.
Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes. With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise!
"Look to the lilies how they grow!" 'Twas thus the Saviour said, that we, Even in the simplest flowers that blow, God's ever-watchful care might see.
"Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory Array'd," the lilies cry, "in robes like ours; How vain your grandeur! Ah, how transitory Are human flowers!"
Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal, Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole; And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day.
Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don; And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.
Another May new buds and flowers shall bring: Ah! why has happiness no second Spring?
May, queen of blossoms, And fulfilling flowers, With what pretty music Shall we charm the hours? Wilt thou have pipe and reed, Blown in the open mead? Or to the lute give heed In the green bowers.
When a man brings his wife flowers for no reason, there's a reason.
