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“Lodged

"The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed.
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost, The Poetry of Robert Frost

“ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near
lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are
flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life
and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I
saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get
round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he
asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the
sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey
and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the
sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they
called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with
the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish
girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in
the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who
else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all
clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep
and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and
the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of
years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like
kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with
the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her
lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the
castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman
going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and
the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and
the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets
and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the
jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was
a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the
Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me
under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then
I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I
yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes
and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and
his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“In most gardens", the Tiger-lily said, "they make the beds too soft-so that the flowers are always asleep.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland / Through the Looking-Glass

“Gods must be crazy
Flowers must be daisy
Clouds must be hazy
Winds must be lazy
What else it could be�
My heart must be in love latelyâ€�”
― Heenashree Khandelwal

“She grew up in the ordinary paradise of the English countryside. When she was five she walked to school, two miles, across meadows covered with cowslips, buttercups, daisies, vetch, rimmed by hedges full of blossom and then berries, blackthorn, hawthorn, dog-roses, the odd ash tree with its sooty buds.”
― A.S. Byatt, Ragnarok

“And so we are like flowers; and bloom only, when the sun, kisses us.”
― sir kristian goldmund aumann, Love Poems

“Buying flowers is not just a way to bring home beauty. It's an expression of confidence that better days are coming. It's a defiant finger in the face of those naysayers who would have you believe your fortunes will never improve.”
― Pearl Cleage, Some Things I Never Thought I'd Do

“The shrub that half concealed her was a malignant plant, a Madagascan tanghin tree with wide, box-like leaves with whitish stems, whose smallest veins distilled a venomous fluid. At a moment when Louise and Maxime laughed more loudly in the reflected yellow light of the sunset in the little boudoir, Renée, her mind wandering, her mouth dry and parched, took between her lips a sprig of the tanghin tree that was level with her mouth, and sank her teeth into one of its bitter leaves.”
― Émile Zola, La Curée

“Certain girls deserve lots of flowers. You are one of them.”
― Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing: The Best of Year One

“Yes, when I get big and have my own home, no plush chairs and lace curtains for me. And no rubber plants. I'll have a desk like this in my parlor and white walls and a clean green blotter every Sunday night and a row of shining yellow pencils always sharpened for writing and a golden-brown bowl with a flower or some leaves or berries always in it and books...books..books.”
― Betty Smith

“Sky and the stars and the sun, and the moon and the mountain and the rivers will smile, if you smile.
Beasts and the brutes and the monsters and the birds, and the flowers, and the plants, will be kind if you are kind.
Doomed and the hopeless and the condemned and the ruined and the miserable and the lost, will be happy if you are happy.”
― M.F. Moonzajer, A moment with God ; Poetry

“An author really ought to have nothing but flowers in the room where he works.”
― Gaston Leroux

“Stop. J'en suis sorti. Des souvenirs. Du passé. Mais tôt ou tard les choses que tu as laissé derrière toi te rattrapent. Et les choses les plus simples, quand tu es amoureux, te semblent les plus belles. Parce que leur simplicité n'a pas d'égal. Et j'ai envie de crier. Dans ce silence qui fait mal. Stop. Laisse tomber. Reprends-toi. Voilà. Fermé. A double tour. Au fond du cÅ“ur, bien au fond. Dans ce jardin. Quelques fleurs, un peu d'ombre et puis la douleur. Mets-les là, cache les bien surtout, là où personne ne peut les voir. Là où toi tu ne peux pas les voir.”
― Federico Moccia, Ho voglia di te

“Do you see a theme emerging? Women like flowers; men like food!”
― Joshua Harris, Boy Meets Girl: Say Hello to Courtship

“I love humanity, which has been a constant delight to me during all my seventy-seven years of life; and I love flowers, trees, animals, and all the works of Nature as they pass before us in time and space. What a joy life is when you have made a close working partnership with Nature, helping her to produce for the benefit of mankind new forms, colors, and perfumes in flowers which were never known before; fruits in form, size, and flavor never before seen on this globe; and grains of enormously increased productiveness, whose fat kernels are filled with more and better nourishment, a veritable storehouse of perfect food—new food for all the world's untold millions for all time to come.”
― Luther Burbank

“For eight years I dreamed of fire. Trees ignited as I passed them; oceans
burned. The sugary smoke settled in my hair as I slept, the scent like a cloud left on my pillow as I rose. Even so, the moment my mattress started to burn, I bolted awake. The sharp, chemical smell was nothing like the hazy syrup of my dreams; the two were as different as Carolina and Indian jasmine, separation and attachment. They could not be confused.
Standing in the middle of the room, I located the source of the fire. A neat row of wooden matches lined the foot of the bed. They ignited, one after the next, a glowing picket fence across the piped edging. Watching them light, I felt a terror unequal to the size of the flickering flames, and for a paralyzing moment I was ten years old again, desperate and hopeful in a way I had never been before and never would be again.
But the bare synthetic mattress did not ignite like the thistle had in late October. It smoldered, and then the fire went out.
It was my eighteenth birthday.”
― Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The Language of Flowers

“Also I could hear Amanda’s voice: Why are you being so weak? Love’s never a fair trade. So Jimmy’s tired of you, so what, there’s guys all over the place like germs, and you can pick them like flowers and toss them away when they’re wilted. But you have to act like you’re having a spectacular time and every day’s a party.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Year of the Flood

“Now I understand why you grow so many flowers."

She shifted her head, not understanding.

I said, "To cover the stink of sulphur.”
― John Fowles, The Magus

“A garden did not need people in order to be alive and natural. The flowers might have died, and the last leaves might be falling, but the space was still redolent with the odors of life. It contained a thousand reassurances that no matter what one person’s strife, the seasons continued their cycle.”
― Madeline Hunter, Stealing Heaven

“Hobbies are like flowers on plant. They make the plant look beautiful and feel Proud.”
― Sukant Ratnakar, Open the Windows: To the World Around You

“A person who takes a concrete place and convert it into a garden of flowers is a real magician!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Setenta balcones hay en esta casa,
setenta balcones y ninguna flor.
¿A sus habitantes, Señor, qué les pasa?
¿Odian el perfume, odian el color?

La piedra desnuda de tristeza agobia,
¡Dan una tristeza los negros balcones!
¿No hay en esta casa una niña novia?
¿No hay algún poeta bobo de ilusiones?

¿Ninguno desea ver tras los cristales
una diminuta copia de jardín?
¿En la piedra blanca trepar los rosales,
en los hierros negros abrirse un jazmín?

Si no aman las plantas no amarán el ave,
no sabrán de música, de rimas, de amor.
Nunca se oirá un beso, jamás se oirá una clave...

¡Setenta balcones y ninguna flor!”
― Baldomero Fernández Moreno

“When tended the right way, beauty multiplies.”
― Shannon Wiersbitzky, What Flowers Remember

“There is nothing in the world more pathetic than a bunch of wilted dandelions.”
― Shannon Wiersbitzky, What Flowers Remember

“On a nightstand in a teenager’s room, a glass vase filled with violets leans precariously against a wall. The only thing saving the vase from a thousand-piece death on the hardwood floor is the groove in the nightstand’s surface that catches the bottom of vase, and of course the wall itself. The violets, nearly a week old, droop in the light of a waning gibbous moon. Wrinkled petals are already piling up on the floor between the nightstand and the wall, and a girl only six days sixteen stares at the dying bouquet from her bed.”
― Jay Nichols, Emily Smiles for April

“Other flowers came at the end of the summer, but by then the winter sadness had already dissipated, and the effect of the blooms was not the same.”
― Jessica Stern, Denial: A Memoir of Terror

“Killing flowers for our own happiness is a wrong attitude, it is a wrong culture! We must change this attitude and abolish this culture! Let the flowers live!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Animals fight wars; flowers practice peace.”
― James Edwin Gunn, Transcendental

“Maa kuohuu syreenien sinipunaisia terttuja,
pihlajain valkeata kukkahärmää,
tervakkojen punaisia tähtisikermiä.
Sinisiä, keltaisia, valkeita kukkia
lainehtivat niityt mielettöminä merinä.
Ja tuoksua!
Ihanampaa kuin pyhä suitsutus!
Kuumaa ja värisevää ja hulluksijuovuttavaa,
pakanallista maan ihon tuoksua!”
― Katri Vala, Kaukainen puutarha

“When considering female human beings, we should ask ourselves what kind of organisms become overjoyed when presented with decapitated plants as gifts? I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate they do not become overjoyed when presented with decapitated animals as gifts.”
― Robert Black