#flowers

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. ↗

— Chuck Palahniuk

#flowers #beauty

A flower blossoms for its own joy. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#flowers #happiness #joy #beauty

Yes, just like those flowers. There's something strained, but there's beauty in that. Something like that ↗

— Koushun Takami

#flowers #beauty

How did these organs of plant sex manage to get themselves cross-wired with human ideas of value and status and Eros? And what might our ancient attraction for flowers have to teach us about the deeper mysteries of beauty - what one poet has called "this grace wholly gratuitous"? Is that what it is? Or does beauty have a purpose? (64) ↗

— Michael Pollan

#flowers #plants #beauty

Like every other seed, they turn into a beautiful flower. ↗

— Sally Wen

#flowers #beauty

Well, think about it for a minute. A guy tells you that he loves you and then turns around and buys you flowers…or worse, tells you that he loves you with flowers. Cut flowers die. They die in a few days after being cut…and this is what you guys choose to use as proof of your love? Something that dies in a few days? To me it seems like foreshadowing or something, like your basically saying that our love is beautiful but only for a limited time and then it will wither away to nothing like your flowers. ↗

— Jennifer Snyder

#love #beauty

One person's weed is another person's wildflower. ↗

— Susan Wittig Albert

#death

Look at us, said the violets blooming at her feet, all last winter we slept in the seeming death but at the right time God awakened us, and here we are to comfort you. ↗

— Edward Payson Roe

#death

You want these back, don't you? You want me out of here so you can come back and take over where you left off. I don't blame you. It's your body and your brain-and your life, even though you weren't able to make much use of it. I don't have the right to take it away from you. Nobody does. Who's to say that my light is better than your darkness? Who's to say death is better than your darkness? Who am I to say?... ↗

— Daniel Keyes

#flowers-for-algernon #death

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. ↗

— William Shakespeare

#nature #dreams