#lower

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

For the Christ-follower,small spiritual adjustments make huge eternal differences. ↗

— Todd Stocker

#christianity #difference #eternal #inspirational #motivation

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. ↗

— Victor Hugo

#dreaming #flowers #gardens #les-miserables #thinking

Hélène, her eyes once more raised and remote, was deep in a dream. She was Lady Rowena, she was in love, with the deep peaceful passion of a noble soul. This spring morning, the loveliness of the great city, the first wallflowers scenting her lap, had little by little melted her heart. ↗

— Émile Zola

#love #paris #wallflowers #dreams

If our destiny stems from our name, then I weep for the flower named Wilt. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#flower #flowers #humor #sadness #wilt

Matthew. I’m here. I’m yours. I want to do everything you’ve ever imagined doing with me. ↗

— Lisa Kleypas

#lisa-kleypas #matthew-swift #scandal-in-spring #wallflowers #imagination

The difference between an admirer and a follower still remains, no matter where you are. The admirer never makes any true sacrifices. He always plays it safe. Though in words, phrases, songs, he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, gives up nothing, will not reconstruct his life, will not be what he admires, and will not let his life express what it is he supposedly admires. ↗

— Søren Kierkegaard

#christ #follower #sacrifice #life

I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You’re alive. And you stand up and see the lights and the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you’re listening to that song in that drive with the people you love most in this world. And in this moment I swear… we are infinite. ↗

— Stephen Chbosky

#infinite #inspirational #life #perks #perks-of-being-a-wallflower

There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait." She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead, Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purple and red. ↗

— Alfred Tennyson

#love #poetry #life

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 produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important? ↗

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#importance #longing #love #protection #roses