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Roses Quotes

Browse 252 quotes about Roses.

Roses Quotes

“You’re thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it slip let it go say ”I give up” one last time and give him a sad smile. You’re thinking it shouldn’t be this hard, shouldn’t be this dark, thinking love could flow easily with no holding back and you’ve seen others find their match and build something great together, of each other, like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great things one by one, always together, and it seems grand. But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn’t live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone—no more—makes your chest tighten up and maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle. You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming garden but that’s not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults, the ugly words in the winter walking home alone and angry but falling asleep thinking you love him. This is your fairy tale. The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don’t go I need you like you need me and maybe it’s not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and your castle and you can run from it your whole life but this is here in front of you. Maybe nurture it? Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an hour or two. This is your fairy. It ain’t perfect and it ain’t honey sweet with roses on the bed. It’s real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love. Don’t throw it away searching for someone else’s love. Don’t be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go. Be someone’s someone for someone. Be that someone for him. That’s your fairy tale. This is your castle. Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love. It’s yours if you make it so. Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.”

LoveTwoRomanceYoungGirlNovelSadnessTrustHeartbreakGardenSafetyTrue LoveWinterHeartacheFairyHardshipLove QuoteFairy TaleFinding LoveLove PoemLove PoetryYoung LoveRosesJane AustenHerStayLooking For LoveHimTrustingCastleYou And IWelcome HomeFinding HomeDon T GoYour Castle
Author:Charlotte Eriksson
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“Flowers are evil, because they live just to die for the love of other people. You don’t believe me? Try it for yourself and see if you’ll be good afterwards. Undeath is a way of life, for some things. That doesn’t make it good or anything. Especially anything. Nothing makes anything anything. Because nothing is a serious matter, and anything just is.”

PeopleLoveBelieveDifferentMatterReasonDeathEvilBeliefExistenceDyingSeriousFlowerRoseGoodFlowersBeingNothingThornsRosesBelievingUndeadAnythingExistingUndeath
Book:Nothing is here...
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“I relinquished myself to existence pure and simple, thinking absolutely nothing—as if my mind were merely an echo chamber for the music, as if it contained only ether or at most a vaguely pleasant odor as of roses preserved between the pages of a book, their significance long forgotten. The tongue of the road gobbled me up and I allowed myself to sink like a tasty mouthful all the way to the bottom of a marvelous, rejuvenating vacuity. Later, it would occur to me it’s the emptiness we mistakenly call Innocence.”

BookPastMusicYouthTravelMemoryInnocenceEmptinessNothingnessBeingForgettingRosesRoadVacuityBeing And NothingnessRoad Novel
Book:Beginner's Luke
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“And the roses—the roses! Rising out of the grass, tangled round the sun-dial, wreathing the tree trunks and hanging from their branches, climbing up the walls and spreading over them with long garlands falling in cascades—they came alive day by day, hour by hour. Fair fresh leaves, and buds—and buds—tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air.”

Roses
Book:The Secret Garden
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“Sah ein Knab' ein Röslein stehn, Röslein auf der Heiden, war so jung und morgenschön, lief er schnell, es nah zu sehn, sah's mit vielen Freuden. Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden. Knabe sprach: „Ich breche dich, Röslein auf der Heiden!“ Röslein sprach: „Ich steche dich, dass du ewig denkst an mich, und ich will's nicht leiden.“ Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden. Und der wilde Knabe brach's Röslein auf der Heiden; Röslein wehrte sich und stach, half ihm doch kein Weh und Ach, musst' es eben leiden. Röslein, Röslein, Röslein rot, Röslein auf der Heiden.”

InjuryRapeRoses
Book:Gedichte (Bd. 1).
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“You think too much of your "toilette", Adele; but you may have a flower." I took a rose from a vase and fastened it in her sash. She sighed a sign of ineffable satisfaction, as if her cup of happiness were now full. I turned my face away to conceal a smile I could not suppress; there was something ludicrous as well as painful in the little Parisienne's earnest and innate devotion to matters of dress.”

FunnyAmusingRosesParisienneObsessed With Dress
Book:Jane Eyre
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“Amongst the ochre leaves are roses: deep-crimson Gabriel Oak, apricot-blushed Lady Emma Hamilton and the final breath of the haunting white Direktör Benschop, which clambers through the yew hedges. There are Japanese anemones-- windflowers-- and at the far end of the garden, at the foot of the crab apple tree, a cluster of pale-pink autumn cyclamen.”

GardenFlowersRoses
Book:A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts
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“The roses were originally picked as much for their perfume as much for their color and form. (Unlike my first roses, which were bought purely because I was enchanted by their romantic names.) Of the basic musk, myrrh, tea, fruit and old-rose fragrances I am drawn to the latter two. Fruity is a broad bush on a night like tonight. Lady Emma Hamilton, reliable though now retired by the growers, is at her most giving: apricots and white peaches spring to mind. Gertrude Jekyll is one of the most intense of the old-rose scented varieties. She calls me over every time I set foot on the terrace. Unlike the more generous jasmine, even the most scented rose requires us to bend a little, pushing the tip of our nose into the cluster of petals. Not so Gertrude tonight, mingling as she does with the white jasmine, hovering cloud-like over the hot stones of the terrace. I have a plan to bring the Queen of Denmark into the garden too, another old-rose scent, and I long for a decent musk rose such as Buff Beauty, exuding its faint note of cloves on a warm evening.”

RosesScentsRose GardenMuskVarieties
Book:A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts
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“The roses are fading. Turmeric petals soften to the color of old dusters, magenta becomes palest violet, edges that were dark and sumptuous turn to the color of a tea stain. What was once as white as snow is now buttermilk. Their texture changes too: petals soft and strong enough to support a portly bumblebee dry to walnut-colored fragments frail and aging till they shatter.”

RosesColorsWitheringDried Flower
Book:A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts
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“A gardener's grandmother will have grown such and such a rose, and the smell of that rose at dusk (for flowers always seem to be most fragrant at the end of the day, as if that, smelling, was the last thing to do before going to sleep), when the gardener was a child and walking in the grandmother's footsteps as she went about her business in her garden - the memory of that smell of the rose combined with the memory of that smell of the grandmother's skirt will forever inform and influence the life of the gardener, inside or outside the garden itself.”

InspirationalNatureSpringGardenUpliftingGardeningFlowersRoses
Book:In the Garden: Essays on Nature and Growing
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“It is obvious what the wind will do, and so is the cloud. Flowers, trees, even birds; it is even obvious what the most unknown being will do. However, we know a being well: it is not obvious what they will do. You happen to know: they picked up roses, and are giving them to someone. And then you happen to know again: the roses belong to the man they killed.”

NatureWindReflectionMetaphorObservationIronyPoeticHuman BehaviorRosesMinimal
Book:a Song a Poem
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“As the sun continued to rise, the tune became more intoxicating, lulling me into a completely relaxed state. I allowed my mind to drift, imagining I was walking through a pretty meadow full of roses. In my mind’s eye, I held a rose flower in my hands and sniffed at it, my eyes shining with pure happiness. In my dreamy state, the air smelled of roses, warming my spirit and coaxing me to stop and rest. Lying back in the grass, I stretched my arms up to the sky, inviting the sun to join me. Warm tingles rippled across my skin and eased the pressure in my head. I was light, drifting through the breeze and letting the wind take me somewhere untouched and soothing.”

HappinessMusicMysterySafeRosesLiteraryChildhood MemoryBeauty Of NatureDay DreamingFlute
Book:Adira and the Dark Horse
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“At an overgrown garden with a weathered picket fence, I stop and lean over the fence to sniff at a pristine bright red rose bloom between hundreds of others on a lush rose bush. They all exude an intoxicating scent, which obviously also pleases the bees, who, despite the twilight, are still out and about in astonishing numbers to diligently collect pollen. I deeply inhale the sweet smell and then walk on with a dreamy smile.”

RosesEnjoying LifeJutta SwietlinskiFlowing Like WaterEnjoying Life Quotes
Book:Flowing like Water
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“This Elixir Smites by Stewart Stafford How dull the rose's painted lustre, As bees gossip, all mistrust her, Window taps on stormy nights, Aphids swarm as suckling mites. Once buds entwined at Nature's hip, Now cleft in two and water-dipped, Glass-twisted strangest shape, Mauve-petalled mausoleum draped. Neglected drops in muted drought, The bloody thorns scratch about, A lush finger in withered point, Pruned stem of glum conjoint. Cataclysms from petty faults arise; Reflection pardoned in imperfect eyes. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

LoveNatureForgivenessGardenAnimalsLove PoemLove PoemsLove PoetryRoses
Author:Stewart Stafford
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