Ray Bradbury Quotes About Flowers

Quotes about: Flowers

• Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.

  Ray Bradbury

  Children, Wall, Flower

  "Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury, (pp. 156-157), 1953.

• 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.

  Ray Bradbury

  Summer, Flower, Smell

• Sunsets are loved because they vanish. Flowers are loved because they go. The dogs of the field and the cats of the kitchen are loved because soon they must depart. These are not the sole reasons, but at the heart of morning welcomes and afternoon laughters is the promise of farewell. In the gray muzzle of an old dog we see goodbye. In the tired face of an old friend we read long journeys beyond returns.

  Ray Bradbury

  Goodbye, Dog, Morning

• Have you ever watched the jet cars race on the boulevard?...I sometimes think drivers don’t know what grass is, or flowers, because they never see them slowly...If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! He'd say, that’s grass! A pink blur! That’s a rose garden! White blurs are houses. Brown blurs are cows.

  Ray Bradbury

  Flower, Garden, Thinking

• I think the sun is a flower, That blooms for just one hour.

  Ray Bradbury

  Flower, Thinking, Sun

  Ray Bradbury (1980). “The Stories of Ray Bradbury”, Alfred a Knopf Incorporated

• We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of on good rain and black loam.

  Ray Bradbury

  Flower, Rain, Black

  Ray Bradbury (1951). “Fahrenheit 451: A Novel”, Simon and Schuster

• And there, row upon row, with the soft gleam of flowers opened at morning, with the light of this June sun glowing through a faint skin of dust, would stand the dandelion wine. Peer through it at the wintry day - the snow melted to grass, the trees were reinhabitated with bird, leaf, and blossoms like a continent of butterflies breathing on the wind. And peering through, color sky from iron to blue. Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in

  Ray Bradbury

  Summer, Morning, Children

  Ray Bradbury (2012). “Dandelion Wine”, p.18, HarperCollins UK

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