Art is like a border of flowers along the course of civilization.
Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?
They are not long, the days of wine and roses. Out of a misty dream, our path emerges for a while, then closes, within a dream.
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.
Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath; Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
If there were nothing else to trouble us, the fate of the flowers would make us sad.
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
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.
Money is a powerful aphrodisiac but flowers work almost as well.
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.
The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.
For there is a sound reasoning upon all flowers. For flowers are peculiarly the poetry of Christ.
I named all my children after flowers. There's Lillie and Rose and my son, Artificial.
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Even in a minute instance, it is best to look first to the main tendencies of Nature. A particular flower may not be dead in early winter, but the flowers are dying; a particular pebble may never be wetted with the tide, but the tide is coming in. To the scientific eye all human history is a series of collective movements, destructions or migrations, like the massacre of flies in winter or the return of birds in spring.
Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.
I like to be bought flowers and taken out for dinner. I like a man to be a gentleman. I don't like to be treated as if I am brainless. I like to be respected and to give respect.
There are strange flowers of reason to match each error of the senses.
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd palings, Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green, with many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love, With every leaf a miracle - and from this bush in the dooryard, With delicate-color'd blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green, A sprig with its flower I break.
You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin , or even vagueness - ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things.
Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.
The flower in the vase smiles, but no longer laughs.
I sent my flowers across the hall to Mrs Nixon but her husband remembered what a Democrat I am and sent them back.
The advice I am giving always to all my students is above all to study the music profoundly... music is like the ocean, and the instruments are little or bigger islands, very beautiful for the flowers and trees.
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