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Flowers Quotes

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Flowers Quotes

“She gazed out at the seductive vista. The countryside was dressed in its prettiest May garb- everything budding or blooming or bursting out in the exuberance of late spring. For Laura, the landscape at thirteen hundred feet up a Welsh mountain was the perfect mix of reassuringly tamed and excitingly wild. In front of the house were lush, high meadows filled with sheep, the lambs plump from their mother's grass-rich milk. Their creamy little shapes bright and clean against the background of pea green. A stream tumbled down the hillside, disappearing into the dense oak woods at the far end of the fields, the ocher trunks fuzzy with moss. On either side of the narrow valley, the land rose steeply to meet the open mountain on the other side of the fence. Here young bracken was springing up sharp and tough to claim the hills for another season. Beyond, in the distance, more mountains rose and fell as far as the eye could see. Laura undid the latch and pushed open the window. She closed her eyes. A warm sigh of the wind carried the scent of hawthorn blossom from the hedgerow.”

SheepFlowersMountainsSpringtimeWalesNatures BeautyColors Of NatureVistaWild Nature
Book:Lamp Black, Wolf Grey
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“Murphy peered around, then touched a few of the bushes, letting her fingers run along the ridges of the leaves while she looked at the different shapes and structures of them and the plants they belonged to. There were rosebushes, azaleas, peonies---none of them blooming yet, all being strangled by kudzu and grapevines. It was like a nightmare garden---the kind a creepy old lady with a bunch of cats would have, Murphy decided. A creepy old lady in an old wedding dress she’d been wearing since being jilted at the altar fifty years ago.”

GardenFlowersUntenable
Book:Peaches
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“Are those chocolate chip?'' Cole reaches her first and claims one. ''Oh, my godness.'' Nana sets the tray aside and coos the guy. ''Cole, dear, you have a boulder-size knot on your jaw.'' ''River did it.'' Cole smirks at the guy. ''And he insulted my mom. And my dad.'' ''River Marks.'' Nana shakes her head, as if her heart is acually breaking. ''How could you be so rough? And so insensitive!'' River glares at Cole before bowing his head. ''I'm sorry, Nana.'' ''The human body is like a flower. Treat it well, and it will bloom.'' She approaches the ring and extends two cookies. River and I accept with eager thanks. ''Let's be kind to each other and keep our punches away from the face and groin.'' ''Yes, ma'am,'' we say in unison. Then of course, we devour the offering as if we've never tasted sugar. ''Good, good.'' She brushes the crumbs from her fingers. ''I'll leave you kids to your practice.'' She kisses Ali, then Cole, and leaves. ''Are you a rose?'' River sneers at Cole. ''Or a lilly?'' ''Orchid. And your jealousy is showing.'' Cole responds.”

FlowersCookiesRiverColeNana
Book:A Mad Zombie Party
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“The Sparrow Sisters' roses still bloomed on New Year's Day, their scent rich and warm even when snow weighted their petals closed. When customers came down the rutted road to the small eighteenth-century barn where the sisters worked, they marveled at the jasmine that twined through the split-rail fence, the perfume so intense they could feel it in their mouths. As they paid for their purchases, they wondered (vaguely, it must be said, for the people of Granite Point knew not to think too hard about the Sisters) how it was that clematis and honeysuckle climbed the barn in November and the morning glories bloomed all day. The fruit trees were so fecund that the peaches hung on the low branches, surrounded by more blossoms, apples and pears ripened in June and stayed sweet and fresh into December. Their Italian fig trees were heavy with purple teardrop fruit only weeks after they were planted. If you wanted a tomato so ripe the juice seemed to move beneath the skin, you needed only to pick up a punnet at the Nursery.”

FlowersVegetationFruit TreesSparrow Sisters
Book:The Sparrow Sisters
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“Bean mentions that the tree does not flower until 30 to 40 years of age. American references have stated 10 to 14 years. All authors, including this one, tend to pass along time-honored information without determining, first hand, the actual response in question.”

TreeInformationTraditionFlowersAccuracyFloweringDirrHand Me DownPlant IdentificationSophora
Book:Manual of Woody Landscape Plants: Their Identification, Ornamental Characteristics, Culture, Propogation and Uses
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“And over walls and earth and trees and swinging sprays and tendrils the fair green veil of tender little leaves had crept, and in the grass under the trees and the gray urns in the alcoves and here and there everywhere were touches or splashes of gold and purple and white and the trees were showing pink and snow above his head and there were fluttering of wings and faint sweet pipes and humming and scents and scents.”

NatureSpringWildernessFlowersThe Garden
Book:Secret Garden
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“She wandered among the wooden crates, picking up tomatoes, peeling back the husks on ears of corn, adding two red peppers to her shopping basket and a bunch of very thin asparagus, a bouquet of zinnias for the table, and seven imperial-looking white and purple gladiolas to put in the stone pitcher that she kept by the front door. She was loaded down with fresh things, beautiful, glorious provisions. Could she stop time and stay here, with her basket full, surrounded by organic produce? Could she just die here and call it a happy end?”

VegetablesFlowersGrocery Shopping
Book:The Love Season
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“Agapanthus and peonies in June. Scented stock and sweet peas in July. Sunflowers and sweet William in August. By the time September's oriental lilies and ornamental cabbages appeared, she wasn't hiding upstairs in the workroom anymore. She was spending more time in the shop, answering the phone, dealing with the customers. One Sunday she spent the afternoon at an allotment belonging to a friend of Ciara's, picking lamb's ear and dusty miller and veronica for a wedding, and didn't think about Michael once, but she kept remembering a Patrick Kavanagh poem she'd learned at school, the one about how every old man he saw reminded him of his father.”

FlowersWedding BouquetMonthly
Book:The Flower Arrangement
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“The creamy millefeuille roses had arrived from Holland yesterday and been left in the warm kitchen, where they were opening like tulle ballerina skirts. The pale pink peonies were in the coolest corner of the shop downstairs so they wouldn't go over. The wildflower man would be in at 6 a.m. to deliver the cornflowers and foxgloves. Every flower in the bouquet had a special meaning for the bride. She had known exactly what she wanted, Lara remembered, and had turned up at the shop with her own color swatches and mood boards and Pinterest links.”

FlowersWedding Bouquet
Book:The Flower Arrangement
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“Sugar had grown up in Charleston, South Carolina: possibly the most luscious of the world's garden cities. Behind every wrought-iron gate or exposed-brick wall in the picturesque peninsula blooming between the Ashley and Cooper Rivers lay a sweet-scented treasure trove of camellias, roses, gardenias, magnolias, tea olives, azaleas and jasmine, everywhere, jasmine. With its lush greenery, opulent vines, sumptuous hedgerows and candy-colored window boxes, it was no wonder the city's native sons and daughters believed it to be the most beautiful place on earth. In her first years of exile Sugar had tried to cultivate a reminder of the luxuriant garden delights she had left behind, struggling in sometimes hostile elements to train reluctant honeysuckle and sulky sweet potato vines or nurture creeping jenny and autumn stonecrop.”

FlowersPlantsSouth CarolinaGardensSugar Wallace
Book:The Wedding Bees
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“I rebuke societies that impart to their flowers their cold and rigid demeanour. Flowers should not stand with the stiffness of a soldier on parade but must carry themselves with the relaxedness of a dancer, their arms outstretched above a shaggy mane. Life reveals few sights as distressing as the look of flowers standing mournfully at attention unstirred by the kisses of a million bees. This infection of uncomely reserve is the handiwork of sombre gardeners bred in sombre societies who will not consider their work done till their flowers exude in aspect that stiffness they esteem. They forget that God intended that we mingle with flowers and not merely admire them from afar. But there is a look in a fastidiously manicured garden that makes me keep my distance, a look that draws my eyes but scorns my touch, and that is why I condemn them.”

GardeningFlowersFlower QuotesGarden Design
Book:The Success Genome Unravelled: Turning men from rot to rock
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“Louis found me in the rear parlor, the one more distant from the noises of the tourists in the Rue Royale, and with its windows open to the courtyard below. I was in fact looking out the window, looking for the cat again, though I didn't tell myself so, and observing how our bougainvillea had all but covered the high walls that enclosed us and kept us safe from the rest of the world. The wisteria was also fierce in its growth, even reaching out from the brick walls to the railing of the rear balcony and finding its way up to the roof. I could never quite take for granted the lush flowers of New Orleans. Indeed, they filled me with happiness whenever I stopped to really look at them and surrender to their fragrance, as though I still had the right to do so, as though I still were part of nature, as though I were still a mortal man.”

WorldCatVampireFlowersNew OrleansFragranceWallsMortalWisteriaBougainvilleaDavid TalbotLouisRue Royale
Book:Merrick
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“Blazing bamboo torches lit the way to the tiki hut beside Sarasota Bay at Mote Marine Aquarium. The thatch-roofed pavilion sheltered wooden picnic tables wrapped with raffia skirting and crowned with centerpieces of conch shells filled with sprays of orchids. Potted palms and red hibiscuses had been placed around the perimeter of the outdoor room. The atmosphere was redolent with roasting pork and salt air. "This is ridic!" exclaimed Piper. "We're never leaving." She scooped a watermelon margarita garnished with a paper umbrella from the tray of a passing server. Jack helped himself to a Captain Morgan on the rocks. "To us," he said, raising his glass. Trays of skewered beef teriyaki and sweet-and-sour chicken were passed.”

BeachFlowersFloridaFood And DrinkTropical SettingTiki
Book:Footprints in the Sand
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“Sitting under a tree, I studied my options. The fall flowers were in full bloom: verbena, goldenrod, chrysanthemum, and a late-blooming rose. The carefully tended city beds around the park held layers of textured evergreen but little color. I set to work, considering height, density, texture, and layers of scent, removing touch-damaged petals with careful pinches. When I had finished, spiraling white mums emerged from a cushion of snow-colored verbena, and clusters of pale climbing roses circled and dripped over the edge of a tightly wrapped nosegay. I removed every thorn. The bouquet was white as a wedding and spoke of prayers, truth, and an unacquainted heart.”

WhiteFlowersMeaningsBouquetVictoria Jones
Book:The Language of Flowers
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“They were no longer standing the way he'd stood them, no longer engaged in the glorious basking that overwhelmed him on the headland. They were leaning toward the light now, craning toward it. He’d been dead wrong about the blitheness. The buttercups now seemed to know — to understand with that purely physical knowledge that all living things possess — that something was wrong. Their craning was like a cry: they were calling out with all the body language they possessed for a life or a place they had no minds with which to remember.”

FlowersButtercupsCut Flowers
Author:David James Duncan
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“She'd found a smutty novel she'd already read and loved in one of the trunks Elain had packed, and had laid it on the desk. She'd said to the air, 'I found this for you. It's a present.' The book had vanished into nothing. But in the morning, she'd found a bouquet of autumnal flowers upon her desk, the glass vase bursting with asters and chrysanthemums of every colour.”

HouseMagicSarah J MaasFlowersNesta ArcheronNestaMagicalA Court Of Silver FlamesSmutty Book
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Nina and Sophie were seated at a large round table settled under the branches of a blooming magnolia. The rich scent of the flowers mixed with the incredible food Jasmine and her team had whipped up had built an almost intoxicating aroma. They started off with sesame Halloumi and sweet potato tahini mash, followed by butternut squash and sage risotto, then there were hearty mushroom steaks with a side of roasted eggplant and miso salsa as their main. As they ate, she tasted the flavors from the earth, celebrating the gardens and passionate people around them. Her friend had harnessed the surroundings and created a rich culinary experience for the event.”

VegetarianVegetablesFlowersBanquetGarden Party
Book:For Butter or Worse
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“The décor was the perfect contrast to the club's existing dark wood walls and coffered ceilings. Cedric's team used accents of gold to tie in with the space, but lightened things up with oodles of ivory and blush flowers. They highlighted the massive arched window overlooking the twinkling lights of downtown by flanking it with two equally massive blooming dogwood trees. Where he found blooming dogwoods this time of year in Dallas was a mystery, but that was all part of his magic. Dining tables were draped in champagne-colored velvet linen, and atop every table was an ivory urn overflowing with blush antique garden roses. They reminded me of the roses that grew in our garden at home, which was certainly on purpose. Twinkling candles in glass sleeves covered every surface, and next to the bar stood a sparkling tower of champagne glasses.”

FlowersChampagneInterior DecorTable DecorEngagement Party
Book:Piece of Cake: A Novel
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“The next morning, when Thomasin withdrew the curtains of her bedroom window, there stood the Maypole in the middle of the greek, its top cutting into the sky. It had sprung up in the night. or rather early morning, like Jack's bean-stalk. She opened the casement to get a better view of the garlands and posies that adored it. The sweet perfume of the flowers had already spread into the surrounding air, which being free from every taint, conducted to her lips a full measure of the fragrance received from the spire of blossom in its midst. At the top of the pole were crossed hoops decked with small flowers; beneath these came a milk-white zone of Maybloom;then a zone of bluebells, then of cowslips, then of lilacs, then of ragged-rosins, daffodils and so on, till the lowest stage was reached.Thomasin noticed all these, and was delighted that the May revel was to be so near.”

MayFlowersBlossomBeanstalkMaypole
Book:The Return of the Native
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“My favorite part about a wind farm is the invisible fruit that it yields. Plus, it's like a garden of giant metal flowers, and that's almost as romantic as a book composed exclusively of duck quotes.”

BookHumorQuotesBooksQuoteAbsurdDucksFlowersDuckWind Farm
Book:Music is fluid, and my saxophone overflows when my ducks slosh in the sounds I make in elevators.
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“The troutberry trees had already bloomed and gone; on the forest floor, delicate white petals of starflowers and goldthread and Carolina springbeauty sparkled when a stray beam of sunshine caught them. Wild onions were the only plant that had fully leafed out, brilliant bright green under maple and elm and birch and oak whose own leaves were still pregnant thoughts. All of nature was just waking up, fulling, becoming large and new.”

FlowersTreesSpringtimeLiz BraswellNatures Process
Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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“There’s color here, too—- flowers like jewels sewn onto green silk. Rhododendron shrubs laden with magenta clusters of ruffled blossoms. Fronds of emerald ferns, luminous even in deep shadow. Weeds, tangled and exuberant, are flourishing most of all, but among them I sense the vibrant blossoms of periwinkle, primroses, and lunaria, small buds of white anemone nodding atop tall, thin stems, speckled hellebores and toad lilies pressing toward the light. And the viburnum! They’re thriving— ten feet tall and just as wide. Along the walls, and now and then along the edges of the path, their creamy-white, pink-tinged blossoms float atop dark green leaves, and their spicy vanilla fragrance threads through every shadow.”

GardenFlowersViburnum
Book:The Memory Gardener
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“Shortly, she passed what she assumed was the center: a wide expanse of lawn, a white garden bench at each end, and a circular pond enlivened with water lilies and irises. Just like the rest of Aubry Park, at least what she had seen of it, the center of the labyrinth was a charming surprise. A place where she might be inclined to sit and read under other circumstances.”

FlowersCharlotte GreeneCenter Of A Maze
Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl
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“There was something wonderful about the atmosphere at Stony Cross Park. One could easily imagine it as some magical place set in some far-off land. The surrounding forest was so deep and thick as to be primeval in appearance, while the twelve-acre garden behind the manor seemed too perfect to be real. There were groves, glades, ponds, and fountains. It was a garden of many moods, alternating tranquility with colorful tumult. A disciplined garden, every blade of grass precisely clipped, the corners of the box hedges trimmed to knife blade crispness. Hatless, gloveless, and infused with a sudden sense of optimism, Annabelle breathed deeply of the country air. She skirted the edge of the terraced gardens at the back of the manor and followed a graveled path set between raised beds of poppies and geraniums. The atmosphere soon became thick with the perfume of flowers, as the path paralleled a drystone wall covered with tumbles of pink and cream roses. Wandering more slowly, Annabelle crossed through an orchard of ancient pear trees, sculpted by decades into fantastic shapes. Farther off, a canopy of silver birch led to woodland beds that appeared to melt seamlessly into the forest beyond.”

ForestsFlowersPathwaysGardensAnnabelle PeytonStony Cross Park
Book:Secrets of a Summer Night
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“The flowers must have been the latest generation of perennials, whose ancestors were first planted by a woman who lived in the ruins when the ruins were a raw, unpainted house inhabited by herself and a smoky, serious husband and perhaps a pair or silent, serious daughters, and the flowers were an act of resistance against the raw, bare lot with its raw house sticking up from the raw earth like an act of sheer, inevitable, necessary madness because human beings have to live somewhere and in something and here is just as outrageous as there because in either place (in any place) it seems like an interruption, an intrusion on something that, no matter how many times she read in her Bible, Let them have dominion, seemed marred, dispelled, vanquished once people arrived with their catastrophic voices and saws and plows and began to sing and hammer and carve and erect. So the flowers were maybe a balm or, if not a balm, some sort of gesture signifying the balm she would apply were it in her power to offer redress.”

EnvironmentWomanFlowersIntrusionPenanceEnvironmental ConservationCost Of LivingHuman ImpactEnvironmental Intrusion
Author:Paul Harding
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“By tapping into flowers and their elixirs, we have a method at our fingertips that helps us be our happiest, clearest, and most loving selves. With this book I invite you to catalyze your own personal Flowerevolution and create a worldwide ripple effect of positivity—transforming the world from the inside out.”

TransformationPositivityFlowersFlower Elixirs
Book:Flowerevolution: Blooming into Your Full Potential with the Magic of Flowers
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“Yes, I had dreamed of becoming a botanist, my entire life, really. I'd thought a great deal about the various species of maple and rhododendron while braiding challah, and I'd successfully planted a wisteria vine in a large pot and trained it over the awning of the bakery. And at night, after we closed shop, I volunteered at the New York Botanical Garden. Sweeping up cuttings and fallen leaves hardly seemed like work when it provided the opportunity to gaze into the eye of a Phoenix White peony or a Lady Hillingdon rose, with petals the color of apricot preserves. Yes, horticulture, not pastries, was my passion.”

DreamFlowersHorticultureFlora LewisBotanist
Book:The Last Camellia
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“I was too awestruck to speak. Vines of bright pink flowers danced over a wrought-iron arbor. I recognized them immediately as the very same variety, bougainvillea, that grew in Greenhouse No. 4 at the New York Botanical Garden. Just beyond, two potted trees stood at attention- a lemon, its shiny yellow globes glistening in the sunlight, and what looked like an orange, studded with the tiniest fruit I'd ever seen. "What is this?" I asked, fascinated. "A kumquat," she said. "Lady Anna used to pick them for the children." She reached out to pluck one of the tiny oranges from the tree. "Here, try for yourself." I held it in my hand, admiring its smooth, shiny skin. I sank my teeth into the flesh of the fruit. Its thin skin disintegrated in my mouth, releasing a burst of sweet and sour that made my eyes shoot open and a smile spread across my face. "Oh, my," I said. "I've never had anything like it." Mrs. Dilloway nodded. "You should try the clementines, then. They're Persian." I walked a few paces further, admiring the potted orchids- at least a hundred specimens, so exquisite they looked like Southern belles in hoop skirts. On the far wall were variegated ferns, bleeding hearts, and a lilac tree I could smell from the other end of the room.”

FlowersFruit TreesConservatoryFlora Lewis
Book:The Last Camellia
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“Janie ran to my side, where she tugged at the book eagerly as though she'd seen it before. "Flower book," she said, pointing to the cover. "Where did you find Mummy's book?" Katherine asked, hovering near me. Cautiously, I revealed the book as I sat on the sofa. "Would you like to look at it with me?" I said, avoiding the question. Katherine nodded and the boys gathered round as I cracked the spine and thumbed through page after page of beautiful camellias, pressed and glued onto each page, with handwritten notes next to each. On the page that featured the 'Camellia reticulata,' a large, salmon-colored flower, she had written: 'Edward had this one brought in from China. It's fragile. I've given it the garden's best shade.' On the next page, near the 'Camellia sasanqua,' she wrote: 'A christmas gift from Edward and the children. This one will need extra love. It hardly survived the passage from Japan. I will spend the spring nursing it back to health.' On each page, there were meticulous notes about the care and feeding of the camellias- when she planted them, how often they were watered, fertilized, and pruned. In the right-hand corner of some pages, I noticed an unusual series of numbers. "What does that mean?" I asked the children. Nicholas shrugged. "This one was Mummy's favorite," he said, flipping to the last page in the book. I marveled at the pink-tipped white blossoms as my heart began to beat faster. The Middlebury Pink.”

ChildrenFlowersDiaryPlantingDiary EntryGenus SpeciesCamelliaFlora LewisAnna Livingston
Book:The Last Camellia
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“She returned to the kitchen, where she'd been making sugared flowers. Mint leaves, tiny violets and old-fashioned rose petals, heavy with perfume, lay on the counter. Very gently she dipped each one into the stiff egg whites, then in confectioners' sugar, and then placed them on the baking sheet, which she put in the warm oven, the door ajar. It gave the room the scent of a garden, heady and sweet. Sabine had planned to store the sweets in canning jars- there were still a few gaskets and lids left- and save them for cake. When she was a child, her grand-mère had once made her a Saint-Honoré for her birthday. It was the most wondrous cake in the world. Not a cake at all but a composition of tiny puffs of choux pastry filled with vanilla cream, very much like profiteroles, but molded together with caramel and covered with whipped chantilly cream fresh from the dairy. Her grand-mère decorated it with candied flowers and mint leaves. Sabine never had anything like it before or since and suddenly wanted to make that cake again.”

FlowersFrenchPastriesCreamsGrand MereSabine Monte Carlo
Book:White Truffles in Winter
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