#flowers

Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers. ↗

— Walter de La Mare

#fruit #late #soon #too #too late

Here was a flower (the daisy reflected) strangely like itself and yet utterly unlike itself too. Such a paradox has often been the basis for the most impassioned love. ↗

— Thomas M. Disch

#flowers #humor #love #humor

I'll cover you in flowers someday, Julie-girl. ↗

— Lurlene McDaniel

#julie #luke #true-love #love

Gabby, I told you I'd give you space, but I never said I wouldn't fill your space with flowers. Brad ↗

— Beth Michele

#flowers #love-love #love

A wedding is a funeral where you smell your own flowers. ↗

— Eddie Cantor

#flowers #funeral #own #smell #wedding

Waters are distilled out of Herbs, Flowers, Fruits, and Roots. ↗

— Nicholas Culpeper

#flowers #fruits #herbs #out #roots

The only thing I have done religiously in my life is keep a journal. I have hundreds of them, filled with feathers, flowers, photographs, and words - without locks, open on my shelves. ↗

— Terry Tempest Williams

#feathers #filled #flowers #hundreds #i

The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower—suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day, and now I place them here in memory of something that has died. ↗

— Katharine Hepburn

#flowers #life #death

This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea. These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine. "O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? Was not the body dear to you?" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue. ↗

— Sara Teasdale

#in-a-burying-ground #life #soul #death

There Albine lay, panting, exhausted by love, her hands clutched closer and closer to her heart, breathing her last. She parted her lips, seeking the kiss which should obliterate her, and then the hyacinths and tuberoses exhaled their incense, wrapping her in a final sigh, so profound that it drowned the chorus of roses, and in this culminating gasp of blossom, Albine was dead. ↗

— Émile Zola

#flowers #love #death