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The Language of Flowers

Book by Vanessa Diffenbaugh · 2 quotes · Victoria Jones, The Language Of Flowers, Vanessa Diffenbaugh

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The Language of Flowers Quotes

“What're you reading?" "Gertrude Stein." I shook my head. I'd never heard of her. "The poet?" he asked. "You know, 'A rose is a rose is a rose'?" I shook my head again. "During the last year of her life, my mother became obsessed with her," Grant said. "She'd spent most of her life reading the Victorian poets, and when she found Gertrude Stein, she told me she was a comfort." "What does she mean, 'A rose is a rose is a rose'?" I asked. Snapping the biology book shut, I was confronted with the skeleton of a human body. I tapped the empty eye socket. "That things just are what they are," he said. " 'A rose is a rose.' " " 'Is a rose,' " he finished, smiling faintly. I thought about all the roses in the garden below, their varying shades of color and youth. "Except when it's yellow," I said. "Or red, or pink, or unopened, or dying." "That's what I've always thought," said Grant. "But I'm giving Ms. Stein the opportunity to convince me.”

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“Have you ever given anyone a red rose?" Grant asked. I looked at him as if he was trying to force-feed me foxglove. "Moss rose? Myrtle? Pink?" he pressed. "Confession of love? Love? Pure love?" I asked, to make sure we shared the same definitions. He nodded. "No, no, and no." I picked a pale blush-colored bud and shredded the petals one at a time. "I'm more of a thistle-peony-basil kind of girl," I said. "Misanthropy-anger-hate," said Grant. "Hmm." I turned away. "You asked," I said. "It's kind of ironic, don't you think?" he asked, looking around us at the roses. They were all in bloom, and not one was yellow. "Here you are, obsessed with a romantic language- a language invented for expression between lovers- and you use it to spread animosity.”

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