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Daisies Quotes

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Daisies Quotes

“As soon as they entered the forest, Dina felt something stirring in her magic. Normally it lay dormant within her until she needed it for a spell. But now it was thrumming in her blood, reacting to this place. The trees were tall and thick, little sunlight made it to the forest floor, and the narrow pebbled path they walked along twisted out of sight ahead of them. "There's something here," she whispered to Immy. "Like magic?" "Yeah. Like, I don't know how to put it--- like this is an old and powerful place. Like the land is breathing." "Ooh, I'm going to write that phrase down for my next book," Immy said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. As Immy slowed down to make her note, Dina walked on, feeling the power of this ancient wood flooding through her. She felt as if she were walking into the mouth of a great, slumbering goddess. But it didn't scare her; it wasn't meant to. It was just nature, older than history, older than bone. The path curled around to the left, revealing a small cottage in the dappled light, dwarfed by the surrounding oaks. The lights were on inside, illuminating the ivy and wisteria vines that had twined themselves around the outer walls of the cottage. The windows were sashed in dark green wood, complete with window boxes filled with daisies. Daisies that Dina was sure shouldn't have been able to grow in such little light, but this wood seemed to play by its own rules.”

“Daisies are what boho dreams are made of. They bring to mind sun-soaked wild flower fields, spontaneous wanderings in the country air the simple joys of bundling found blooms and foliage into a worn basket. I can almost smell the sunshine when I look at these happy flowers and feel the urge to wear a flower crown and spin around barefoot! Daisies are the perfect addition to any laid back and rustic decor or shabby chic event!”

“I leave to children exclusively, but only for the life of their childhood, all and every the dandelions of the fields and the daisies thereof, with the right to play among them freely, according to the custom of children, warning them at the same time against the thistles. And I devise to children the yellow shores of creeks and the golden sands beneath the water thereof, with the dragon flies that skim the surface of said waters, and and the odors of the willows that dip into said waters, and the white clouds that float on high above the giant trees.”

“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.”

“Daisy was a consciously happy young woman without any of the usual endowments that make for conscious happiness, money apart. She was not pretty, she was not clever, she had no friends, no talents, nor even an imagination to make her think she was happy when she was really miserable. As she was never miserable, she had no need of an imagination.”

“In America, snobs who wouldn't be seen dead with a lottery ticket play the stock market. We like to gamble. Winning, we have closed our eyes, leapt across the yawning abyss, and landed knee-deep in daisies. Even losing has a certain gloomy glamour: the gods of chance are worthy opponents; we have engaged them in hand-to-hand combat and though we lost, at least we shrank not from the contest.”

“God said,--"Let there be light!" Grim darkness felt His might, And fled away; Then startled seas and mountains cold Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold, And cried--"'Tis day! 'tis day!" "Hail, holy light!" exclaim'd The thunderous cloud that flam'd O'er daisies white; And lo! the rose, in crimson dress'd, Lean'd sweetly on the lily's breast; And blushing murmur'd--Light!”

“A flower is a daisy chain, a graduation, a valentine; a flower is New Year's Eve and an orchid in your hair; a flower is a single geranium blooming in a tin can on a murky city fire-escape; an acre of roses at the Botanical Gardens; and the first gold crocus of spring! ... a flower is a birth, a wedding, a leaving of this life.”

“Death. To die. To expire. To pass on. To perish. To peg out. To push up daisies. To push up posies. To become extinct. Curtains, deceased, Demised, departed And defunct. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a herring. Dead as a mutton. Dead as nits. The last breath. Paying a debt to nature. The big sleep. God's way of saying, "Slow down."”

“It's so weird how that can be, how you could have a night that's the worst in your life, but to everybody else it's just an ordinary night. Like on my calendar at home, I would mark this as being one of the most horrific days of my life. This and the day Daisy died. But for the rest of the world, this was just an ordinary day. Or may be it was even a good day. May be somebody won the lottery today.”

“If I find a green meadow splashed with daisies and sit down beside a clear-running brook, I have found medicine. It soothes my hurts as well as when I sat in my mother's lap in infancy, because the Earth really is my mother, and the green meadow is her lap.”

“I had wondered for a long time why God had preferences and why all souls did not receive an equal amount of grace [...] Jesus saw fit to enlighten me about this mystery. He set the book of nature before me and I saw that all the flowers He has created are lovely. The splendor of the rose and whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. I realized that if every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness and there would be no wild flowers to make the meadows gay.”

“There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.”