Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made, and forgot to put a soul into.
~Henry Beecher, Life Thoughts, 1858
Earth laughs in flowers.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Hamatreya"
I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.
People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
~Iris Murdoch, A Fairly Honourable Defeat
For myself I hold no preferences among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous. Bricks to all greenhouses! Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Afternoon on a Hill"
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.
Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1844
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
'Tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes!
~William Wordsworth, "Lines Written in Early Spring," Lyrical Ballads, 1798
The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.
Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow.
~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin
Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers, but the spring breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.
Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.
~Heinrich Heine, The Hartz Journey
Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there.
~Francis Thompson, "The Poppy," 1891
How can one help shivering with delight when one's hot fingers close around the stem of a live flower, cool from the shade and stiff with newborn vigor!
Look at us, said the violets blooming at her feet, all last winter we slept in the seeming death but at the right time God awakened us, and here we are to comfort you.
~Edward Payson Rod
Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity.
Pluck not the wayside flower;
It is the traveler's dower.
When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other.
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.
Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock.
~Henry Ward Beecher, Star Papers: A Discourse of Flowers
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life.
Why do people give each other flowers? To celebrate various important occasions, they're killing living creatures? Why restrict it to plants? "Sweetheart, let's make up. Have this deceased squirrel."
~The Washington Post
Flowers really do intoxicate me.
Flowers whisper "Beauty!" to the world, even as they fade, wilt, fall.
Flowers are those little colorful beacons of the sun from which we get sunshine when dark, somber skies blanket our thoughts.
The flower offered of itself
And eloquently spoke
In languages of rainbows
And secret silence...
~Phillip Pulfrey, from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations, www.originals.net
Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.
~Gerard de Nerval
There is that in the glance of a flower which may at times control the greatest of creation's braggart lords.
~John Muir, A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf, 1916
With daffodils mad footnotes for the spring,
And asters purple asterisks for autumn -
~Conrad Aiken, Preludes for Memnon, 1930
The poet's darling.
~William Wordsworth, "To the Daisy"
Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul.
If dandelions were hard to grow, they would be most welcome on any lawn.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
~William Wordsworth, "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," 1804
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.
~Gertrude S. Wister
Can we conceive what humanity would be if it did not know the flowers?
Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair...
~Susan Polis Shutz
Being perfect artists and ingenuous poets, the Chinese have piously preserved the love and holy cult of flowers; one of the very rare and most ancient traditions which has survived their decadence. And since flowers had to be distinguished from each other, they have attributed graceful analogies to them, dreamy images, pure and passionate names which perpetuate and harmonize in our minds the sensations of gentle charm and violent intoxication with which they inspire us. So it is that certain peonies, their favorite flower, are saluted by the Chinese, according to their form or color, by these delicious names, each an entire poem and an entire novel: The Young Girl Who Offers Her Breasts, or: The Water That Sleeps Beneath the Moon, or: The Sunlight in the Forest, or: The First Desire of the Reclining Virgin, or: My Gown Is No Longer All White Because in Tearing It the Son of Heaven Left a Little Rosy Stain; or, even better, this one: I Possessed My Lover in the Garden.
~Octave Mirbeau, Torture Garden, "The Garden," Chapter 5
A profusion of pink roses bending ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.
~The Collected Later Poems of William Carlos Williams
Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of their character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.
~Lydia M. Child
You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.
~Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons, 1964
God loved the flowers and invented soil. Man loved the flowers and invented vases.
~Variation of a saying by Jacques Deval (God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages.)