I have lost my smile,but don’t worry.The dandelion has it.

One person’s weed is another person’s wildflower.

Flowers make me irrationally happy.

If it were not for collectors England would be full, so to speak, of rare birds and wonderful butterflies, strange flowers and a thousand interesting things. But happily the collector prevents all that, either killing...

… on the lawn one late summer day, her pale hair tangled because she’d cry if anyone tried to brush it, spinning around and around until she got so dizzy she fell in a pile...

Little deeds are like little seeds, they grow to flowers or to weeds.

The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own.

Nobody sees a flower – really – it is so small it takes time – we haven’t time – and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.

The flowers like me back.

Leon reads aloud from an article in the Reader’s Digest about voting to select a national flower. Leon votes for dandelions. Joseph and Clyde vote for grass.

Maa kuohuu syreenien sinipunaisia terttuja,pihlajain valkeata kukkahärmää,tervakkojen punaisia tähtisikermiä. Sinisiä, keltaisia, valkeita kukkialainehtivat niityt mielettöminä merinä.Ja tuoksua!Ihanampaa kuin pyhä suitsutus! Kuumaa ja värisevää ja hulluksijuovuttavaa,pakanallista maan ihon tuoksua!

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.

i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.

Flowers do not force their way with great strife. Flowers open to perfection slowly in the sun…. Don’t be in a hurry about spiritual matters. Go step by step, and be very sure.

When the time has come, every leaf turns to face the sun!

since the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid

I raised the judiciary issue with Gary Flowers yesterday before the Rocky decision was handed down and we agreed that we need to review it further.

I had a dream about you. You smiled at me, and I blushed like a red rose. Then you started sniffing my cheeks and I realized you were a bee and I’d been deceived.

I like movies that keep me guessing until the end. I always guess flowers, because no matter what type of movie, whether romance, mystery, or horror, nobody suspects the flowers.

Stop. J’en suis sorti. Des souvenirs. Du passé. Mais tôt ou tard les choses que tu as laissé derrière toi te rattrapent. Et les choses les plus simples, quand tu es amoureux, te semblent les...

A Tennyson garden, heavy with scent, languid; the return of the word swoon.

Because the bag is full of colours – starbursts and wheels and whorls of dazzling brightness that are as fine and complex in their structures as the branch is, only much more symmetrical. Flowers.

The bell tolling not for us, it’s time for bluebells.

She opened her sketchbook, carefully tore out several pages and handed them to Nasser–three detailed color sketches of three flowers. Leafing through the pages, he translated the message. A petunia: Your presence soothes me. A...

Butterflies are not insects,’ Captain John Sterling said soberly. ‘They are self-propelled flowers.

Congratulations, everyone,” I announce as I open the door to Noam’s study. “You’ve finally broken Meira, the crazy, orphaned soldier-girl. She’s snapped, all thanks to the mention of floral arrangements.

For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it’s not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to...

Flowers are nature’s gift of love for you.

The sun is a flower, and it burns my goddamn nostrils like the scent of love, which I haven’t tasted since I put on my midnight-black blindfold. I’m just naturally romantic, I guess.

At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands accent but was soft now and barely audible. He knew the plants by...

The shrub that half concealed her was a malignant plant, a Madagascan tanghin tree with wide, box-like leaves with whitish stems, whose smallest veins distilled a venomous fluid. At a moment when Louise and Maxime...

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

Little flowers get more attention than the big mountains simply because they emit love around themselves!

All his flowers have been awaiting me on my arrival. I don’t know whether to feel flattered or hunted.

Instead of putting flowers in books to flatten them you can use a brick.

Always grow flowers, as that will make your way full of flowers. Never grow thorns, as that will make your way thorny. Never want to target someone on an arrow. You may become the target...

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

I always notice flowers.

I look at everything. God gave me eyes and I look at women and men and subway excavations and moving pictures and the little flowers of the field. I casually inspect the universe.

You may bend, but that will not bring your life to an end. Your refusal to give up is the key; your rose flowers blossom from the thorns of life!

Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, and left the flushed print in a poppy there.

A rose is a mix of thorns with a flower, and is therefore half fuck you and half fuck me. If I gave you a dozen, would you fuck me 12 times?

When the young womanleans over the sky,about to water the flowers as well as the weeds,her white front splits openuntil her milk runs.

Suddenly Damask found herself staring down at the flowers through a dazzle of tears. The words sounded so innocent and so disarming – she remembered that she hadn’t wanted to come through the beautiful woods...

Chcę czerwień zerwać z kwiatów polnych,Czerwienią nocy spalić krew,Jak piersi nieba chcę być wolny,W chmury się wbić w koronach drzew.

Now I understand why you grow so many flowers.”She shifted her head, not understanding.I said, “To cover the stink of sulphur.

An Evening AirI go out in the grey eveningIn the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation.I go out into the hard loneliness of the barren field of grey eveningIn the air...

this life has been a landscape of painand still,flowersbloom in it.

A few flat clouds folded themselves like crepes over fillings of apricot sky. Pompadours of supper-time smoke billowed from chimneys, separating into girlish pigtails as the breeze combed them out, above the slate rooftops. Chestnut...