Floral Beauty Quotes

Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty; Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty.

A flower blossoms for its own joy.

When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most

I don't know why, but I love sunflowers, and I just have this vivid memory of being in a field of sunflowers and how they felt like trees. They felt so tall.

Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.

E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, and trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.

Spindly branches of buttercups were secreted among gleaming stems still moist at the roots from last night's rain that had washedand refreshed the entire wood, had dowered it in poignant transparency, the unique, inconsolable quality of rainy countries, as if all was glimpsed through tears.

I love evening tuberoses. My mother used to have tuberoses in her garden, and in the summers in Sacramento, it would get really hot and then cool down in the evenings. You'd walk up the driveway, and it made it feel like 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'

Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.

Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.

The daisy is fair, the day-lily rare, The bud o' the rose as sweet as it's bonnie.

I work at my garden all the time and with love. What I need most are flowers, always. My heart is forever in Giverny.

There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.

Lovely flowers are the smiles of god's goodness.

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

Yon rosebuds in the morning-dew, how pure amang the leaves sae green!

Flowers are happy things.

Where flowers bloom so does hope.

Here hyacinths of heavenly blue, shook their rich tresses to the morn.

And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood.