Flower Quotes

Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety

William Shakespeare

Whatever I am offered in devotion with a pure heart - a leaf, a flower, fruit, or water - I accept with joy.

Bhagavad Gita

The butterfly is a flying flower...

Ponce Denis …couchard Lebrun

Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?

Alice Walker

From the withered tree, a flower blooms

Zen Proverb

If you've never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom.

Audra Foveo

He is happiest who hath power to gather wisdom from a flower.

Mary Howitt

Everything that's realistic has some sort of ugliness in it. Even a flower is ugly when it wilts, a bird when it seeks its prey, the ocean when it becomes violent.

Sharon Tate

The fact that I can plant a seed and it becomes a flower, share a bit of knowledge and it becomes another's, smile at someone and receive a smile in return, are to me continual spiritual exercises.

Leo.F. Buscaglia

Our national flower is the concrete cloverleaf.

Lewis Mumford

Personality is to a man what perfume is to a flower.

Charles M. Schwab

He who knows that this body s like froth, and has learnt that it is as unsubstantial as a mirage, will break the flower-pointed arrow of illusion, and never see the king of death.

Dhammapada

I held a blue flower in my hand, probably a wild aster, wondering what its name was, and then thought that human names for natural things are superfluous. Nature herself does not name them. The important thing is to know this flower, look at its color until the blends becomes as real as a keynote of music. Look at the exquisite yellow flowerettes at the center, become very small with them. Be the flower, be the trees, the blowing grasses. Fly with the birds, jump with a squirrel!

Sally Carrighar†

The beauty of nature includes all that is called beautiful, as its flower, and all that is not called beautiful, as its stalk and roots. Indeed, when I go to the woods or the fields, or a send to the hilltop, I do not seem to be gazing upon beauty at all, but to be breathing it like the air. I am not dazzled or astonished; I am in no hurry to look lest it be gone. I would not have the litter and debris removed, or at the bands trimmed, or the ground painted. What I enjoy is commensurate with the earth and sky itself. It clings to the rocks and trees; it is kindred to the roughness and savagery; it arises from every tangle and chasm; it perches on the dry oakstubs with the hawks and buzzards; the crows shed it from their wings and weave it in to their nests of coarse sticks; the fox barks it, the cattle low it, and every mountain path leads to its haunts. I am not a spectator of, but a participator in it. It is not an adornment; its roots strike to the centre of the earth.

John Burroughs†

I walk as one unclothed of flesh, I wash my spirit clean; I see old miracles afresh, And wonders yet unseen. I will not leave Thee till Thou give Some word whereby my soul may live! I listened but no voice I heard; I looked no likeness saw; Slowly the joy of flower and bird Did like a tide withdraw; And in the heaven a silent star Smiled on me, infinitely far.

Francis William Bourdillon

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