And I say the sacred hoop of my people was one of the many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father.
Listen...you can hear the colors flowering in the quiet of your soul
Everything is soul and flowering.
Let me look upward into the branches of the flowering oak and know that it grew great and strong because it grew slowly and well.
Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.
The flowering of love is meditation.
There are always flowers for those who want to see them.
It does not matter if you are a rose or a lotus or a marigold. What matters is that you are flowering.
One way or another, we all have to find what best fosters the flowering of our humanity in this contemporary life, and dedicate ourselves to that.
To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.
Stretching his hand up to reach the stars, too often man forgets the flowers at his feet.
Where flowers bloom so does hope.
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life.
Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.
Love is the flower you've got to let grow.
Sweet April showers do spring May flowers.
Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of their character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into.
The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy.
What if the Soviet intervention was a blessing in disguise? It saved the myth that if the Soviets were not to intervene, there would have been some flowering authentic democratic socialism and so on. I'm a little bit more of a pessimist there. I think that the Soviets - it's a very sad lesson - by their intervention, saved the myth.
Bamboo is not a weed, it's a flowering plant. Bamboo is a magnificent plant.
When I go out into the countryside and see the sun and the green and everything flowering, I say to myself "Yes indeed, all that belongs to me!"
The historical circumstance of interest is that the tropical rain forests have persisted over broad parts of the continents since their origins as stronghold of the flowering plants 150 million years ago.
A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love.
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