To create a little flower is the labor of ages.
Flowers always make people better, happier and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the soul.
These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.
Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of the character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.
Earth laughs in flowers.
Flowers are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty out-values all the utilities of the world.
Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is the example of the eternal seductiveness of life.
The Amen of nature is always a flower.
The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.
'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone; all her lovely companions are faded and gone.
Every flower is a soul blossoming in Nature.
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.
I hate flowers -- I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.
Roses fall, but the thorns remain.
Fair flowers are not left standing along the wayside long.
Flowers that are so pathetic in their beauty, frail as the clouds, and in their coloring as gorgeous as the heavens, had through thousands of years been the heritage of children -- honored as the jewelry of God only by them -- when suddenly the voice of Christianity, counter-signing the voice of infancy, raised them to a grandeur transcending the Hebrew throne, although founded by God himself, and pronounced Solomon in all his glory not to be arrayed like one of these.
Today as in the time of Pliny and Columella, the hyacinth flourishes in Wales, the periwinkle in Illyria, the daisy on the ruins of Numantia; while around them cities have changed their masters and their names, collided and smashed, disappeared into nothingness, their peaceful generations have crossed down the ages as fresh and smiling as on the days of battle.
Deep in their roots all flowers keep the light.
Keep not your roses for my dead, cold brow the way is lonely, let me feel them now.
We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May; yet the grass is green when the flower fades away.
The silence of a flower: a kind of silence which we continually evade, of which we find only the shadow in dreams.
One of the most attractive things about the flowers is their beautiful reserve.
He does not care for flowers. Calls them rubbish, and cannot tell one from another, and thinks it is superior to feel like that.
A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Flowers are as common in the country as people are in London.
Flowers are happy things.
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.