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Blossom Quotes (page 5)

Nobody's inherently bad, said Annamaria. It's all about the choices we make. And the Deceiver, said Blossom, is always there to whisper the wrong choice in your ear. But I believe remorse can lead to redemption. Dean Koontz
In the checkered area of human experience the seasons are all mingled as in the golden age: fruit and blossom hang together; in the same moment the sickle is reaping and the seed is sprinkled; one tends the green cluster and another treads the winepress. Nay, in each of our lives harvest and spring-time are continually one, until himself gathers us and sows us anew in his invisible fields. George Eliot
Christopher Fry quote: "One day I shall burst my bud of calm and blossom into hysteria."
One day I shall burst my bud of calm and blossom into hysteria. Christopher Fry
Marcel Proust quote: "Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything..."
Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade. Marcel Proust
The promise was void, like so many other sweet, illusory promises of our childhood; void as promises made in Eden before the seasons were divided, and when the starry blossoms grew side by side with the ripening peach,—impossible to be fulfilled when the golden gates had been passed. George Eliot
They march from safety, and the bird-sung joy. Of grass-green thickets, to the land where all. Is ruin, and nothing blossoms but the sky Siegfried Sassoon
Today. While the blossoms still cling to the vine. I'll taste your strawberries. I'll drink your sweet wine. A million tomorrows shall all pass away. Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today. I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover. You know who I am by the songs that I sing. I'll feast at your table. I'll sleep in your clover. Who cares what tomorrow shall bring. I can't be contented with yesterday's glory. I can't live on promises winter to spring. Today is my moment and now is my story.... John Denver
A stone lies in a river; a piece of wood is jammed against it; dead leaves, drifting logs, and branches caked with mud collect; weeds settle there, and soon birds have made a nest and are feeding their young among the blossoming water plants. Then the river rises and the earth is washed away. The birds depart, the flowers wither, the branches are dislodged and drift downward; no trace is left of the floating island but a stone submerged by the water;? such is our personality. Cyril Connolly
To watch the corn grow, or the blossoms set; to draw hard breath over the plough or spade; to read, to think, to love, to pray, are the things that make men happy. John Ruskin
The wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire. Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher. The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight. Alfred Lord Tennyson
And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans--and all that lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused--and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself. Sigrid Undset
Fairy Song Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more! oh, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root’s white core. Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes! For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies,— Shed no tear. Overhead! look overhead! ‘Mong the blossoms white and red— Look up, look up! I flutter now On this fresh pomegranate bough. See me! ’tis this silvery bill Ever cures the good man’s ill. Shed no tear! oh,... John Keats
In my poetry a rhyme Would seem to me almost insolent. Inside me contend Delight at the apple tree in blossom And horror at the house-painter’s speeches. But only the second Drives me to my desk. Bertolt Brecht
Slowly blossomed, slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation, the knowledge, what wisdom actually was, what the goal of his long search was. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul, an ability, a secret art, to think every moment, while living his life, the thought of oneness, to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. Herman Hesse
For with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life—uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which 'smell sweet, and blossom in the dust', the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all. Louisa May Alcott

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