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.

De leur meilleur côté t chons de voir les choses:Vous vous plaignez de voir les rosiers épineux;Moi je me réjouis et rends gr ces aux dieuxQue les épines aient des roses.

Roses and thorns are parts of the same plant. Somehow though, some people are concerned mainly about the roses. The rose is not on the plant for more than a week, but the thorns are...

Love is like a rose. So beautiful to look at, yet so painful to touch.

This is not the way these tales end,” Calliope said firmly.”This is not the way that things end when they get to be tales,” Amatus said, “but since ours is not yet told, we cannot...

Some people are like thorns. But you have to let them be thorns, because thorns can’t turn into petals. The trick is not letting them prick you; never let a thorn prick you!

Crime scenes of pure sex, thorns on her body, blow-dry.

He picked up one of Lorna’s roses and set it in my lap. “Here.” I picked it up and smelled it. He poked me in the shoulder. “See what I mean? Thorns don’t stop you...

I have brought you the rose of love, and you have crowned me, in these dark hours, with their thorns.

I thought that a fairer era of life was beginning for me, one that was to have its flowers and pleasures, as well as its thorns and toils. My faculties, roused by the change of...

We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.

He’s as tall as a tree, but he fights like a rose bush. What’s with all the scratching? I should cut him down in the name of romance.

Do you know why the leaves change colour, Makin?” They did look spectacular. The forest had grown around us as we traveled and the canopy burned with colour, from deepest red to flame orange, an...

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!

Why Roses Crave Thorns”Petals detach from a wilting bud—a single stem plucked before fully blossomed. They descend in hesitant swirls, too soft and limp to shatter like teardrops. One by one they light to blanket...

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...

I have rose-colored glasses. The frames have thorns.

What are the thorns really telling her? It’s why she won’t let us see them, why she clings to them–or they cling to her–as though she got herself buried in a bramble thicket and she...

And if not for the caterpillars and butterflies, who will I talk to? You’ll be far away. And as for larger creatures, I’m not afraid. I have my thorns…to protect me.

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?

Lirralei was a girl of storm–winds and thorns, the musk of the wild rose and the flight of the falcon.

But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.

Why are roses kept for their blossoms rather than shunned for their thorns?

Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses.