The season developed and matured. Another year’s instalment of flowers, leaves, nightingales, thrushes, finches, and such ephemeral creatures, took up their positions where only a year ago others had stood in their place when these were nothing more than germs and inorganic particles. Rays from the sunrise drew forth the buds and stretched them into long stalks, lifted up sap in noiseless streams, opened petals, and sucked out scents in invisible jets and breathings

Flowers that are so pathetic in their beauty, frail as the clouds, and in their coloring as gorgeous as the heavens, had through thousands of years been the heritage of children – honored as the jewelry of God

It is not the bee’s touching of the flower that gathers honey, but her abiding for a time upon the flower that draws out the sweet. It is not he that reads most, but he that meditates most, that will prove the choicest, sweetest, wisest and strongest Christian.

Grace and glory differ very little; the one is the seed, the other is the flower; grace is glory militant, glory is grace triumphant

Our judgment ripens; our imagination decays. We cannot at once enjoy the flowers of the Spring of life and the fruits of its Autumn

The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
Pass me the can, lad; there’s an end of May.

The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
Pass me the can, lad; there’s an end of May.

Back in the days when American billboard advertising was in flower [said Hemingway], there were two slogans that I always rated above all others: the old Cremo Cigar ad that proclaimed, Spit Is a Horrid Word-but Worse on the end of Your Cigar, and Drink Schlitz in Brown Bottles and Avoid that Skunk Taste. You don’t get creative writing like that any more.

I pondered what else I should take for him. Flowers seemed wrong; they’re a love token, after all. I looked in the fridge, and popped a packet of cheese slices into the bag. All men like cheese.

As the sun shines both on the cedar and the smallest flower, so the Divine sun illumines each soul.

If all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wildflowers.

Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love.

If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness

If you admire somebody, you should go ahead and tell them.
People never get the flowers while they can still smell them.

I have looked upon all the universe has to hold of horror,and even the skies of spring and flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.

A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.

At first things were very confusing. Everything was so entirely different from the world I had known – even the flowers.

Give me your hand and we’ll dance; give me your hands and love me. Like one flower we’ll be, and nothing else.

I have all that I lost and I go carrying my childhood like a favorite flower that perfumes my hand.

May our heart’s garden of awakening bloom with hundreds of flowers

Santiago Nasar had often told me that the smell of closed-in flowers had an immediate relation to death for him.

A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by.

The flesh was falling from the bones of those I loved, and all the mountain flowers were crushed and broken.

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, so dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play — In accidental power — The blonde Assassin passes on — The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.

The Sabbath bids us behold in His created works the glory of the Creator. And it was because He desired us to do this that Jesus bound up His precious lessons with the beauty of natural things. On the holy rest day, above all other days, we should study the messages that God has written for us in nature. We should study the Savior’s parables where He spoke them, in the fields and groves, under the open sky, among the grass and flowers. As we come close to the heart of nature, Christ makes His presence real to us, and speaks to our hearts of His peace and love.

Morning exercise, walking in the free, invigorating air of heaven, or cultivating flowers, small fruits, and vegetables, is the surest safeguard against colds, coughs, congestion of the brain, inflammation of the liver, the kidneys, and the lungs, and a hundred other diseases.

Butterflies are not insects,’ Captain John Sterling said soberly. ‘They are self-propelled flowers.

Butterflies are self propelled flowers.

Science is simply the classification of the common knowledge of the common people. It is bringing together the things we all know and putting them together so we can use them. This is creation and finds its analogy in Nature, where the elements are combined in certain ways to give us fruits or flowers or grain.

When you’re surrounded by flowers, you breath better.

When people come up and give me a compliment… I take each remark as if it were a flower. At the end of the day I lift up the bouquet of flowers I have gathered throughout the day and say, ‘Here you are, Lord, it is all Yours.’

The earth laughs in flowers.

I have lost my dewdrop”, cries the flower to the morning sky that lost all its stars.

God waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man’s hands.

New sorrows teach new courage. Time makes the bitterest pain to ‘blossom like Aaron’s rod with flowers.

Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

I seldom think about my limitations, and they never make me sad. Perhaps there is just a touch of yearning at times; but it is vague, like a breeze among flowers.

The best and most beautiful thing in life is friendship that springs out of the heart, as fragrances out of the flower.

Beauty doesn’t have to be about anything. What’s a vase about? What’s a sunset or a flower about? What, for that matter, is Mozart’s Twenty-third Piano Concerto about?

A life without orgasms is like a world without flowers.

Three things remain with us from paradise: stars, flowers and children.

I wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life – but there was no one to tell me.

Anything will give up its secrets if you love it enough. Not only have I found that when I talk to the little flower or to the little peanut they will give up their secrets, but I have found that when I silently commune with people they give up their secrets also – if you love them enough.

Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.

How can there be too many children? That is like saying there are too many flowers.

We cut flowers because we think they’re pretty, we cut ourselves because we think we’re not.

If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.

When you like a flower, you just pluck it. But when you love a flower, you water it daily.

It seems to me as a woman’s face doesna want flowers; it’s almost like a flower itself…. It’s like when a man’s singing a good tune, you don’t want t’ hear bells tinkling and interfering wi’ the sound.

God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.

Running water never grows stale. So you have to keep flowing

Remembrance is the only paradise out of which we cannot be driven away. Pleasure is the flower that fades, remembrance is the lasting perfume. Remembrances last longer than present realities; I have preserved blossoms for many years, but never fruits.

That well by reason men it calls may The daisie, or els the eye of the day, The emprise, and floure of floures all.

And she was fair as is the rose in May.

When in April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.

If you wish to know who is really the lover, look then not at the boy who sits by her side, looks boldly into her eyes and twists the flowers in her necklace around his fingers and steals the hibiscus flower from her hair that he may wear it behind his ear. Do not think it is he who whispers softly in her ear, or says to her ‘Sweetheart, wait for me to-night. After the moon has set, I will come to you,’ or who teases her by saying she has many lovers. Look instead at the boy who sits far-off, who sits with bent head and takes no part in the joking.

Lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.

You could wonder for hours what flowers mean, but for me, they’re life itself, in all its happy brilliance. We couldn’t do with out flowers. Flowers help you forget life’s tragedies.

When I judge art, I take my painting and put it next to a God made object like a tree or flower. If it clashes, it is not art.

When I am finishing a picture, I hold some God-made object up to it – a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand – as a final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there’s a clash between the two, it’s bad art.

I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.

Letting a hundred flowers blossom and a hundred schools of thought contend is the policy for promoting the progress of the arts and the sciences and a flourishing culture in our land.

Let a hundred flowers bloom, let a hundred schools of thought contend.

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude

Flowers in the city are like lipstick on a woman-it just makes you look better to have a little color.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower

Where flowers bloom so does hope.

A clever man without wisdom is like a beautiful flower without fragrance.

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.