Quotes on Flower

The true purpose of life is the perfection of humanity through individual effort, under the guidance of God's inspiration. Real life is response to the best within us. To be alive only to appetite, pleasure, pride, money-making, and not to goodness and kindness, purity and love, poetry, music, flowers, stars, God and eternal hopes, is to deprive one's self of the real joy of living.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.

Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains of the moon. Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green And trees and hills they long have known

Look, hasn't my body already felt like the body of a flower?

Appreciation - Learn to give flowers while people are still living

Live now. When you are eating, eat. When you are loving, love. when you are talking with someone, talk. When you are looking at a flower, look. Catch the beauty of the moment!

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.

The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her.

And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers - shriveled now, and brown and flat and brittle - to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of men.

Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.

You're always begging things to love you," he said, "as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them--

The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice.

Books are like seeds. They can lie dormant for centuries and then flower in the most unpromising soil.

I go to books and to nature as a bee goes to the flower, for a nectar that I can make into my own honey.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its fragrance on the desert air.

Because I liked you better Than suits a man to say, It irked you, and I promised I'd throw the thought away. To put the world between us We parted stiff and dry: 'Farewell,' said you, 'forget me.' 'Fare well, I will,' said I. If e'er, where clover whitens The dead man's knoll, you pass, And no tall flower to meet you Starts in the trefoiled grass, Halt by the headstone shading The heart you have not stirred, And say the lad that loved you Was one that kept his word.

Let me, if I may, be ever welcomed to my room in winter by a glowing hearth, in summer by a vase of flowers. If I may not, let me think how nice they would be and bury myself in my work. I do not think that the road to contentment lies in despising what we have not got. Let us acknowledge all good, all delight that the worlds holds, and be content without it.

My lovely shining fragile broken house is filled with flowers and founded on a rock.

Great pains were taken to hide chains with flowers

Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.