You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
The bee collects honey from flowers in such a way as to do the least damage or destruction to them, and he leaves them whole, undamaged and fresh, just as he found them.
Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.
The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy.
The fragrance of flowers spreads only in the direction of the wind. But the goodness of a person spreads in all directions.
Flowers are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty out-values all the utilities of the world.
A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Don't send me flowers when I'm dead. If you like me, send them while I'm alive.
It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.
He said that we belonged together because he was born with a flower and I was born with a butterfly and that flowers and butterflies need each other for survival.
The sky is full of dreams, but you don't know how to fly.
Flowers grow out of dark moments.
These flowers will be rotten in a couple hours. Birds will crap on them. The smoke here will make them stink, and tomorrow a bulldozer will probably run over them, but for right now they are so beautiful.
I came hoping to see those eyes, but instead I return with my heart, leaving behind only flowers.
Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat,Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,Unseen thy little branches greet;...No roving foot shall crush thee here,...No busy hand provoke a tear.By Nature's self in white arrayed,She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,And planted here the gaurdian shade,And sent soft waters murmuring by;...Thus quietly thy summer goes,...Thy days declinging to repose.Smit with those charms, that must decay,I grieve to see your future doom;They died--nor were those flowers more gay,The flowers that did in Eden bloom;...Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power...Shall leave no vestige of this flower.From morning suns and evenign dewsAt first thy little being came:If nothing once, you nothing lose,For when you die you are the same;...The space between, is but an hour,...The frail duration of a flower.
I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement that displaces the rigid lines, With lips untaught neither tears nor laughter do I know.
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.
Pick the weeds and keep the flowers.
If we'd put them in a vase in the living room, they would have been everyone's flowers. I wanted them to be mt flowers.
In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.
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