Daisies Quotes - Page 4

• We have the promises of God as thick as daisies in summer meadows, that death, which men most fear, shall be to us the most blessed of experiences, if we trust in him. Death is unclasping; joy, breaking out in the desert; the heart, come to its blossoming time! Do we call it dying when the bud bursts into flower?

  Henry Ward Beecher

  Death, Summer, Flower

  Henry Ward Beecher (1858). “Life Thoughts”, p.37

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• She's one of those soppy girls, riddled from head to foot with whimsy. She holds the view that the stars are God's daisy chain, that rabbits are gnomes in attendance on the Fairy Queen, and that every time a fairy blows its wee nose a baby is born, which, as we know, is not the case. She's a drooper.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Girl, Baby, Stars

  P.G. Wodehouse (1989). “Aunts Omnibus”, Hutchinson

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• When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.

  William Shakespeare

  Fear, Men, Blue

  'Love's Labour's Lost' (1595) act 5, sc. 2, l. [902]

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• Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violets dandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderful with eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers

  e. e. cummings

  Bullying, Sorry, Flower

  E. E. Cummings (1996). “Tulips and Chimneys”, p.30, W. W. Norton & Company

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• Water, wind and birdsong were the echoes in this quiet place of a great chiming symphony that was surging around the world. Knee-deep in grasses and moon daisies, Stella stood and listened, swaying a little as the flowers and trees were swaying, her spirit voice singing loudly, though her lips were still, and every pulse in her body beating its hammer strokes in time to the song.

  Elizabeth Goudge

  Song, Flower, Moon

  Elizabeth Goudge (1949). “Gentian Hill”

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• He has an armload of irises and daisies and tulips and he presents them to me. I didn't know what kind of flowers you like.I like them all.Yeah?Yeah.He tries to hand them to me, but then remembers the cast. I'll put them in water.Betty swoops in the room ridiculously fast and she grabs the flowers out of Nick's hands. I'll take care of them. You lovebirds just sit on the couch and think swooning things at each other.

  Carrie Jones

  Flower, Thinking, Hands

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• Daisy was a consciously happy young woman without any of the usual endowments that make for conscious happiness, money apart. She was not pretty, she was not clever, she had no friends, no talents, nor even an imagination to make her think she was happy when she was really miserable. As she was never miserable, she had no need of an imagination.

  Laura Riding

  Clever, Thinking, Imagination

  "Progress of Stories". Book by Laura Riding. Chapter "Daisy and Venison", 1935.

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• I remember her telling me once that rabbits were the gnomes in attendance to the Fairy Queen and that the stars were God's daisy chain. Perfect rot, of course.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Stars, Queens, Perfect

  P.G. Wodehouse (2009). “The Code of the Woosters: (Jeeves & Wooster)”, p.16, Random House

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• With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace Which love makes for thee!

  William Wordsworth

  Sweet, Art, Grace

  1802 'To the Daisy', stanza 1 (published 1807).

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• It just makes me realize how . . . fleeting life can be. How quickly it all passes by. And it's strange to read something written by someone whose life was really just beginning then but who's dead now."He nodded, looking like he was taking that in. But then he said, "That's kinda deep, Daisy."She laughed, rolled her eyes. "Well, you asked. So if that's too deep for you, tell me about your fish.""Well, they were small and blue and I feel emotional because their lives were really just starting but they're dead now.

  Toni Blake

  Eye, Emotional, Blue

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• A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to lap me in content, The rivers wove their charms, And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass!

  Richard Henry Stoddard

  Nature, Voice, Rivers

  Richard Henry STODDARD (1852). “Poems”, p.56

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• I had wondered for a long time why God had preferences and why all souls did not receive an equal amount of grace [...] Jesus saw fit to enlighten me about this mystery. He set the book of nature before me and I saw that all the flowers He has created are lovely. The splendor of the rose and whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. I realized that if every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness and there would be no wild flowers to make the meadows gay.

  Therese of Lisieux

  Jesus, Spring, Flower

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• I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.

  John Keats

  Death, Thank God, Growing

  In a letter from Joseph Severn to John Taylor, 6 March 1821, in H. E. Rollins (ed.) 'The Letters of John Keats' (1958) vol. 2, p. 378

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• He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Confused, Past, Ideas

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.69, e-artnow

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• It's me, love," he said softly. "Everything's all right." Daisy managed to whisper through dry lips. "If you're a ghost...I hope you haunt me forever." Matthew sat on the floor and reached for her cold hands. "Would a ghost use the door?" he asked gently, bringing her fingers to his scratched, battered face.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Doors, Hands, Forever

  Lisa Kleypas (2011). “Scandal In Spring: Number 4 in series”, p.115, Hachette UK

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• I leave to children exclusively, but only for the life of their childhood, all and every the dandelions of the fields and the daisies thereof, with the right to play among them freely, according to the custom of children, warning them at the same time against the thistles. And I devise to children the yellow shores of creeks and the golden sands beneath the water thereof, with the dragon flies that skim the surface of said waters, and and the odors of the willows that dip into said waters, and the white clouds that float on high above the giant trees.

  Williston Fish

  Children, Yellow, White

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• There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.

  William Shakespeare

  Weed, Flower, Men

  'Hamlet' (1601) act 4, sc. 7, l. 167

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• "If it wasn’t for the mist we could see your home across the bay," said Gatsby. "You always have a green light that burns at the end of your dock." Daisy put her arm through his abruptly but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to him, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of enchanted things had diminished by one.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Stars, Distance, Home

  "The Great Gatsby". Book by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1925.

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• Where is the subject that does not branch out into infinity? For every grain of sand is a mystery; so is every daisy in summer, and so is every snow-flake in winter. Both upwards and downwards, and all around us, science and speculation pass into mystery at last.

  William Mountford

  Summer, Winter, Branches

  "Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers" by Josiah Hotchkiss Gilbert, (p. 421), 1895.

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• I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this lawn and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him. [- Nick Carroway]

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Dream, Light, Long

  The Great Gatsby ch. 9 (1925)

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• Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again. When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Air, Voice, Rose

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.68, e-artnow

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• That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone!

  William Wordsworth

  Stars, Self, Shadow

  1844 'So fair so sweet', stanza 2 (published 1845).

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• And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.

  D. H. Lawrence

  Nice, Rain, Love You

  D.H. Lawrence (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence (Illustrated)”, p.8237, Delphi Classics

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• A flower is a daisy chain, a graduation, a valentine; a flower is New Year's Eve and an orchid in your hair; a flower is a single geranium blooming in a tin can on a murky city fire-escape; an acre of roses at the Botanical Gardens; and the first gold crocus of spring! ... a flower is a birth, a wedding, a leaving of this life.

  Jean Hersey

  New Year, Spring, Valentine

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• An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,-- This art of writing billet-doux-- In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips; and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.

  Leigh Hunt

  Art, Clever, Writing

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