Bud Quotes - Page 12

• And fairy month of waking mirth
  From whom our joys ensue
  Thou early gladder of the earth
  Thrice welcome here anew
  With thee the bud unfolds to leaves
  The grass greens on the lea
  And flowers their tender boon receives
  To bloom and smile with thee.

  John Clare

  Spring, Flower, Joy

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• I’m a complicated man, with complicated taste buds.

  Barry Lyga

  Men, Taste Buds, Complicated

  Barry Lyga (2012). “I Hunt Killers”, p.45, Hachette UK

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• Yes, now I understood for the first time that my soul was not so poor and empty as it had seemed to me, and that it had been only the sun that was lacking to open all its germs, and buds to the light.

  Max Muller

  Light, Soul, Firsts

  Max Muller (1912). “Memories”

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• The thorn tree just began to bud
  And greening stained the sheltering hedge,
  An many a violet beside the wood
  Peeped blue between the withered sedge;
  The sun gleamed warm the bank beside,
  'Twas pleasant wandering out a while
  Neath nestling bush to lonely hide,
  Or bend a musings o'er a stile.

  John Clare

  Lonely, Spring, Blue

  John Clare (2012). “Careless Rambles by John Clare: A Selection of His Poems Chosen and Illustrated by Tom Pohrt”, p.71, Counterpoint Press

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• Shot me twice. I want my name, or I'm going to start charging you a fee every time I field something for you. And it's going to be expensive. I'm Park Place. Bud-dy." His red, goat-slitted eyes squinted at me from over his smoked glasses. "You're more like Oriental Avenue right now, dove. What are you on?

  Kim Harrison

  Eye, Glasses, Names

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• ...my boredom might be described as a malady affecting external objects and consisting of a withering process; an almost instantaneous loss of vitality--just as though one saw a flower change in a few seconds from a bud to decay and dust.

  Alberto Moravia

  Flower, Loss, Dust

  Alberto Moravia (2011). “Boredom”, p.5, New York Review of Books

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• Tis like the birthday of the world,
  When earth was born in bloom;
  The light is made of many dyes,
  The air is all perfume:
  There's crimson buds, and white and blue,
  The very rainbow showers
  Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
  And sown the earth with flowers.

  Thomas Hood

  Spring, Flower, White

  Thomas Hood (1860). “The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood”, p.176

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• I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.

  Algernon Charles Swinburne

  Dream, Laughter, Flower

  Algernon Charles Swinburne (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated)”, p.249, Delphi Classics

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• In spring when maple buds are red,
  We turn the clock an hour ahead;
  Which means, each April that arrives,
  We lose an hour out of our lives.
  
  Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks
  Fly southward, back we turn the clocks,
  And so regain a lovely thing
  That missing hour we lost in spring.

  Phyllis McGinley

  Spring, Mean, Autumn

  Phyllis McGinley, “Daylight Savings Time”

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• As with the bud, so with the blossom. A boy is the only thing known from which a man can be made. I hope that we as parents are teaching our children that they are the sons and daughters of God, and that they have the capacity to become like him. It was the old Edinburgh weaver who prayed, 'O God, help me to hold a high opinion of myself.' Likewise I would counsel young people to hold a high opinion of themselves, to remember who they really are, and to put their faith in their Heavenly Father.

  Paul H. Dunn

  Daughter, Children, Father

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• Just as I wonder
  whether it's going to die,
  the orchid blossoms
  and I can't explain why it
  moves my heart, why such pleasure
  comes from one small bud
  on a long spindly stem, one
  blood red gold flower
  opening at mid-summer,
  tiny, perfect in its hour.

  Sam Hamill

  Summer, Spring, Flower

  Sam Hamill (2002). “Dumb Luck: Poems”, p.88, BOA Editions, Ltd.

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• When gods die, self-respect buds', murmured Orland Fank. 'Gods and their examples are not needed by those who respect themselves and, consequently, respect others. Gods are for children, for little, fearful people, for those who would have no responsibility to themselves or their fellows.

  Michael Moorcock

  Atheist, Children, Responsibility

  Michael Moorcock (1988). “The chronicles of Castle Brass”

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• Thelonius Monk went over to Bird and Bud Powell and said, 'I told you guys to act crazy, but I didn't tell you to fall in love with the act. You're really crazy now.'

  Charles Mingus

  Music, Falling In Love, Crazy

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• She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i th' bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but indeed our shows are more than will; for we still prove much in our vows but little in our love.

  William Shakespeare

  Grief, Men, Yellow

  'Twelfth Night' (1601) act 2, sc. 4, l. [108]

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• 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.

  Robert Herrick

  Death, Time, Flower

  "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time" l. 1 (1648)

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• Why did the warrior cross the road? [Koldo] That’s easy. To kill the guy on the other side. [Nicola] A bud of amusement had her smiling. Knock, knock. [Koldo] Who’s there? [Nicola] Donut. Donut who? Donut run from me, puny girl.

  Gena Showalter

  Girl, Running, Warrior

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• Well, Bud," he said, looking at me, "I'll be damned if you don't go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping, then fighting. What do you do on your holidays? Burn houses?

  William Faulkner

  Best Friend, Fun, Holiday

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• Creativity is so delicate a flower that praise tends to make it bloom, while discouragement often nips it in the bud. Any of us will put out more and better ideas if our efforts are appreciated.

  Alex Faickney Osborn

  Appreciation, Art, Flower

  Alex Faickney Osborn (1953). “Applied imagination: principles and procedures of creative thinking”

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• Sometimes sushi is just superb, and other times there's nothing like a great big steak. It depends where your taste buds are at the time.

  Francesca Annis

  Taste Buds, Sushi, Sometimes

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• You know, bud, I don’t know you from Adam, but that’s my baby sister you’re hanging on to. So I’m thinking the wisest course of action for you is to let her go and introduce yourself. Pronto. (Rain)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Baby, Rain, Thinking

  Sherrilyn Kenyon (2005). “Night Pleasures/Night Embrace”, p.557, Macmillan

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• The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

  Philip Larkin

  Grief, Years, Tree

  Philip Larkin (2014). “Poesía reunida”, p.217, LUMEN

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• Bud, my self-defense and combat skills teacher, was still trying to get me to learn knife fighting. "Silver knives! Painful and sometimes deadly to nearly all paranormals!" "Tasey!" I countered. "Hot pink and sparkly!

  Kiersten White

  Teacher, Fighting, Self

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• In June as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them.

  Aldo Leopold

  Anniversary, Nature, Spring

  Aldo Leopold, Michael Sewell (2001). “A Sand County Almanac”, p.82, Oxford University Press

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• Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses.

  Arthur Symons

  Love, Crush, Song

  Arthur Symons (1919). “Poems”

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• The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
  To darken nature and be summer woods.

  Robert Frost

  Summer, Tree, Woods

  Robert Frost, Robert Newdick (1932). “Robert Frost”

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