who knows if the moon’sa balloon,coming out of a keen cityin the sky–filled with pretty people?( and if you and I shouldget into it,if theyshould take me and take you into their balloon,why thenwe’d go...

may flowers smell their scent!

If flowers were boogers, I’d pick a few big ones and flick them on your grave.

She loves me. She must, because she left flowers in the fridge from her date. She knows how I love flower salad.

Animals fight wars; flowers practice peace.

Flowers are the Romeos and the Juliets of the nature!

Flowers are the music of the earth.

I felt after I finished Slaughterhouse-Five that I didn’t have to write at all anymore if I didn’t want to. It was the end of some sort of career. I don’t know why, exactly. I...

….breakups mean flowers.

Buying flowers is not just a way to bring home beauty. It’s an expression of confidence that better days are coming. It’s a defiant finger in the face of those naysayers who would have you...

Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair…

Flowers are so inconsistent!

There was a great scene over some violets. They picked violets and filled all the vases in the room of these very Miss Alans who have failed to come to Cissie Villa. Poor little ladies!...

There is nothing more romantic than candles and flowers, except candles that smell like flowers and flowers that can be burned, as they flicker light while you dine alone and ponder how much of a...

Of all the flowers from a rose to a carnation, I’d die for reincarnation.

I had a dream about you. Flowers were overflowing in the cemetery, so we decided to have a picnic there. You brought apple pie, and I brought my Aunt Mildred, who’d been dead for some...

I like perfume and flowers.

No flower is happy in a vase, because vase is nothing but an ornate coffin for the flower.

I had only to open my bedroom window, and blue air, love, and flowers entered with her”.

I take my metal canister of tea off the shelf. It is my own mixture of dried lavender blossoms and lemon balm, harvested from my garden and hung in the storeroom to dry. Weed helped...

Planting a flower’s like opening a book, because either way you’re starting something. And your garden’s your library.

Any noseMay ravage with impunity a rose.

Agatha surveys the garden, its rows of crinkled spring cabbages and beanstalks entwining bowers of hawthorn and hazel. The rosemary is dotted with pale blue stars of blossom and chives nod heads of tousled purple....

Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.

In the village, a sage should go about Like a bee, which, not harmingFlower, colour or scent, Flies off with the nectar.

Somewhere on the world was the Emperor’s palace, set amid one hundred square miles of natural soil, rainbowed with flowers.

I wish I could grow swords like I can roses. Wouldn’t war be so romantic then? Then the U.S. could really show the world how much it loves it.

A flowing flurry of flowers fell to the floor when I fell in love, as if my heart were a garden that gushed forth and flooded her being with the fragrance of romance.

My hands will get dirty holding your rose-like heart, because love is like gardening—it’s earthy and takes work to keep it alive.

Final DispositionOthers divided closets full of mother’s things.From the earth, I took her poppies.I wanted those fandango foldsof red and black chiffon she doted on,loving the wild and Moorish music of them,coating her tongue with...

Those shiny eyes like the stars in the sky; but black and brown, And those beautiful lips like the flowers but sugary And those kind smells, lovable but with no purpose All meant to be...

A cow’s heaven is a flower’s idea of hell.

I love humanity, which has been a constant delight to me during all my seventy-seven years of life; and I love flowers, trees, animals, and all the works of Nature as they pass before us...

God will reward you,’ he said. ‘You must be an angel since you care for flowers.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.

Spring dances with joy in every flower and in every bud letting us know that changes are beautiful and an inevitable law of life.

In a painful time of my life I went often to a wooded hillside where May apples grew by the hundreds, and I thought the sourness of their fruit had a symbolism for me. Instead,...

Her dad died unexpectedly, so I hid the flowers, because flowers are reminders of spring and life, and also of headstones and death. Also, I hid the flowers because they were for another woman.

Flowers smell terrific, but how do they sound? If they sound like your love life, then you’ve got to take your Helen Keller Goggles off.

I realize all guys have thorns. But I am a rose, and she chose a cactus over me. I wish her luck with her dry, desert-like existence with him.

Flowers are the beautiful hairs of the Mother Spring! Don’t pluck them!

Know that…there’s plenty of food and of course popcorn on the dining-room table. Just…help yourself. If that runs out just let me know. Don’t panic. And there’s coffee, both caff and decaf, and soft drinks...

What we do see depends mainly on what we look for. … In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, the geologists the fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportmen the cover...

The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded itself in stately procession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant locks along the edge of the mirror whence its...

I presented my feminine side with flowers. She cutthe stems and placed them gently down my throat.And these tu lips might soon eclipse your brightesthopes.

Lodged”The rain to the wind said,’You push and I’ll pelt.’They so smote the garden bed.That the flowers actually knelt,And lay lodged — though not dead.I know how the flowers felt.

She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims…

Courage and love.”She did not answer. From her feet the ground sloped sharply into view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems,...

I’m nothing. I’m just a humble man in a bumblebee costume trying to pollinate with a woman as romantic as a flower. Love doesn’t have to sting.