Petals Quotes - Page 4

• There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro' the moss the ivies creep, And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

  Alfred Lord Tennyson

  Sweet, Wall, Lying

  Alfred Lord Tennyson, Walt Whitman (2010). “English Poetry III: Tennyson to Whitman: The Five Foot Shelf of Classics, Vol. XLII (in 51 Volumes)”, p.1028, Cosimo, Inc.

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• Meditation is your awakening. The moment you awake, sleep disappears and with it all the dreams, all the projections, all expectations, all desires. Suddenly you are in a state of desirelessness, non-ambition, unfathomable silence. And only in this silence, blossoms flower in your being. Only in this silence the lotuses open their petals.

  Rajneesh

  Dream, Flower, Ambition

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• Our eyes reflect light. Better that the lips are more like a rose petal.

  Olivier Theyskens

  Eye, Light, Rose

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• If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden. The two processes complement each other, creating a complete landscape that I treasure. The green foliage of the trees casts a pleasant shade over the earth, and the wind rustles the leaves, which are sometimes dyed a brilliant gold. Meanwhile, in the garden, buds appear on the flowers, and colorful petals attract bees and butterflies, reminding us of the subtle transition from one season to the next.

  Haruki Murakami

  Flower, Butterfly, Writing

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• Her nakedness was not absolute, for like Manet's _Olympia__, behind her ear she had a poisonous flower with orange petals, and she also wore a gold bangle on her right wrist and a necklace of tiny pearls. I imagined I would never see anything more exciting for as long as I lived, and today I can confirm that I was right.

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  Flower, Orange, Long

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• Marriage is a plastic flower. Love is a real rose, but the real rose is beautiful in the morning; by the evening it is gone. Nobody can say when it will disappear, when the petals will start falling. Just a strong wind and it is no more, just a strong sun and it is no more. But the plastic flower will be there; come rain, come sun, come anything, the plastic flower will be there. In fact, plastic is the only permanent thing in the world.

  Rajneesh

  Marriage, Beautiful, Strong

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• She is a mortal danger to all men. She is beautiful without knowing it, and possesses charms that she's not even aware of. She is like a trap set by nature - a sweet perfumed rose in whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as you.

  Cyrano de Bergerac

  Romantic, Beautiful, Sweet

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• I had a dog who loved flowers. Briskly she went through the fields, yet paused for the honeysuckle or the rose, her dark head and her wet nose touching the face of every one with its petals of silk with its fragrance rising into the air where the bees, their bodies heavy with pollen hovered - and easily she adored every blossom not in the serious careful way that we choose this blossom or that blossom the way we praise or don't praise - the way we love or don't love - but the way we long to be - that happy in the heaven of earth - that wild, that loving.

  Mary Oliver

  Dog, Flower, Dark

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• someone's sent a loving note in lines of returning geese and as the moon fills my western chamber as petals dance over the flowing stream again I think of you the two of us living a sadness apart a hurt that can't be removed yet when my gaze comes down my heart stays up

  Orson Scott Card

  Hurt, Heart, Sadness

  Orson Scott Card (2013). “The Ender Quintet”, p.561, Macmillan

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• If a little flower could speak, it seems to me that it would tell us quite simply all that God has done for it, without hiding any of its gifts. It would not, under the pretext of humility, say that it was not pretty, or that it had not a sweet scent, that the sun had withered its petals,or the storm bruised its stem, if it knew that such were not the case.

  Therese of Lisieux

  Sweet, Flower, Humility

  Saint Therese of Lisieux (2007). “The Story of the Soul”, p.27, Cosimo, Inc.

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• If you have patience, then you'll also have love. Patience leads to love. If you forcefully open the petals of a bud, you won't be able to enjoy its beauty and fragrance. Only when it blossoms by following its natural course, will the beauty and fragrance of a flower unfold.

  Mata Amritanandamayi

  Love, Flower, Bud

  "Patience leads to Love". Conversation with Riitta Uosukainen, www.amritapuri.org. October 06, 2000.

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• Your slightest look easily will unclose me, though I have closed myself as fingers, you open petal by petal myself a Spring opens her first rose.

  e. e. cummings

  Romantic, Spring, Rose

  E. E. Cummings, “Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond”

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• No bought potpourri is so pleasant as that made from ones own garden, for the petals of the flowers one has gathered at home hold the sunshine and memories of summer, and of past summers only the sunny days should be remembered.

  Eleanour Sinclair Rohde

  Summer, Memories, Flower

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• If it is the love of that which your work represents--if, being a landscape painter, it is love of hills and trees that moves you--if, being a figure painter, it is love of human beauty, and human soul that moves you--if, being a flower or animal painter, it is love, and wonder, and delight in petal and in limb that move you, then the Spirit is upon you, and the earth is yours, and the fullness thereof.

  John Ruskin

  Flower, Moving, Animal

  John Ruskin, Cook (1905). “Works”

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• I love color. It must submit to me. And I love art. I kneel before it, and it must become mine. Everything around me glows with passion. Every day reveals a new red flower, glowing, scarlet red. Everyone around me carries them. Some wear them quietly hidden in their hearts. And they are like poppies just opening, of which one can see only here and there a hint of red petal peeking out from the green bud.

  Paula Modersohn-Becker

  Art, Flower, Passion

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• You are a cosmic flower. Om chanting is the process of opening the psychic petals of that flower.

  Amit Ray

  Flower, Psychics, Meditation

  "OM Chanting and Meditation". Book by Amit Ray, 2010.

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• I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will be darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.

  Virginia Woolf

  Fall, Sea, White

  Virginia Woolf (2016). “The Waves”, p.152, Virginia Woolf

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• This was what she needed… the quiet turning to the other in the middle of the night, the wordless meeting of lips, skin, breath. The trust, unfurling one pale petal at a time, that he would be there.

  Eileen Wilks

  Night, Skins, Would Be

  Eileen Wilks (2005). “Mortal Danger”, p.89, Penguin

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• I can't feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.

  Franz Kafka

  Spring, Dancing, Storm

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• I learned to make my mind large, as the universe is large, so that there is room for paradoxes. Petals are bone marrow; pearls come from oysters. The dragon lives in the sky, ocean, marshes, and mountains; and the mountains are also its cranium. Its voice thunders and jingles like copper pans. It breathes fire and water; and sometimes the dragon is one, sometimes many.

  Maxine Hong Kingston

  Ocean, Fire, Dragons

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• Never an illness, nor the absence of grandeur, no, nothing is able to kill the best in us, that kindness, dear sir, we are afflicted with: beautiful is the flower of man, his conduct, and every door opens on the beautiful truth and never hides treacherous whispers. I always gained something from making myself better, better than I am, better than I was, that most subtle citation: to recover some lost petal of the sadness I inherited: to search once more for the light that sings inside of me, the unwavering light.

  Pablo Neruda

  Beautiful, Kindness, Flower

  Pablo Neruda (2002). “The Sea and the Bells”, p.61, Copper Canyon Press

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• Outside the youth center, between the liquor store and the police station, a little dogwood tree is losing its mind; overflowing with blossomfoam, like a sudsy mug of beer; like a bride ripping off her clothes, dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds, so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene. It’s been doing that all week: making beauty, and throwing it away, and making more.

  Tony Hoagland

  Beer, Clothes, Clouds

  Tony Hoagland, “A Color of the Sky”

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• The tragedy of journalism lies in its impermanence; the very topicality which gives it brilliance condemns it to an early death. Too often it is a process of flinging bright balloons in the path of the hurricane, a casting of priceless petals upon the rushing surface of a stream.

  Vera Brittain

  Lying, Rushing, Giving

  Vera Brittain (2012). “Testament of Friendship: The Story of Winifred Holtby”, p.229, Hachette UK

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• The sun, a red wheel, was sinking slowly in the west. Besides being spectacularly beautiful, the early-summer sunset was exceedingly soft and gentle: black mulberry leaves turned as red as roses; pristine white acacia petals shed an enshrouding pale-green aura. Mild evening breezes made both the mulberry leaves and the acacia petals dance and whirl, filling the woods with a soft rustle.

  Mo Yan

  Beautiful, Summer, Sunset

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• Elena had always felt like the center of her own world - who doesn't? The world arranged itself around her like petals around the stem of a flower. This way the meadows, that way the woodland. Over here, the baryn's estate, out there, the hills that hug the known world close and imply a world at beyond. She could never come up with the edge of a world, because it always kept going on beyond. She moved the center of the world as she walked. The world was balanced on her head.

  Gregory Maguire

  Life, Flower, Hug

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