Francis Bacon Quotes

Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.

Have you seen the roses? There's a whole lot of colours.

Nothing can beat the smell of dew and flowers and the odor that comes out of the earth when the sun goes down.

The breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air than in the hand.

I think I am quite wicked with roses. I like to gather them, and smell them till they have no scent left.

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.

There was the blue sky above her and all those many roses, the ones that gave off the scent of cloves in the rain and the ones that left a trace of lemon on your fingers, the ones that were the color of blood, and those that were as white as clouds. Each one was sweeter than the next and as red as gemstones.

Sweet peas should smell. Half the point of growing sweet peas is to cut them for the house; they should fill a room with an almost painful olfactory inarticulateness. But most sweet peas smell of nothing. This does not stop them being beautiful, but they are like food with no flavour.

Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise; But waking flow'rs, At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.

I always notice flowers.

And where she went, the flowers took thickest root, As she had sow'd them with her odorous foot.

Butterflies and birds are like one perfect teaspoon of creation.

Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.

The gift of perfume to a flower is a special grace like genius or like beauty, and never becomes common or cheap.

Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider's web?

Look at the flowers-for no reason. It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are.

Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.

The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs.

I don't want to turn any of this into poetry / but / you're so beautiful / flowers turn their heads to smell you