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Roses Quotes (page 13)

Please could I say one word?" was the question three times repeated before a rough head bobbed out from the grotto of books in which Mac usually sat. "Did anyone speak?" he asked, blinking in the flood of sunshine that entered with Rose. Louisa May Alcott
Yet, she said to herself, form the dawn of time odes have been sung to love; wreaths heaped and roses; and if you asked nine people out of ten they would say they wanted nothing but this--love; while the women, judging from her own experience, would all the time be feeling, This is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than this; yet it is also beautiful and necessary. Virginia Woolf
The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble... William Golding
Childhood is the world of miracle and wonder; as if creation rose, bathed in the light, out of the darkness, utterly new and fresh and astonishing. The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. Eugene Ionesco
Then an experience that perhaps no good man can ever have in our world came over him-a torrent of perfectly unmixed and lawful hatred. The energy of hating, never before felt without some guilt, without some dim knowledge that he was failing to distinguish the sinner from the sin, rose into his arms and legs till he felt like they were pillars of burning blood. C. S. Lewis
All the same that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park...then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was! -- that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all. Virginia Woolf
He fell to the seat, she by his side. There no more words. The stars were beginning to shine. How was it that their lips met? How is it that the birds sing, the the snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawn whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills? Victor Hugo
Grant smiled-slowly, deliberately. Insolently? Gennie wasn't sure, but her heart rose to her throat and stuck there. However he smiled, whatever his intent, it added a wicked, irresistible charm to his face. She thought it was a smile a barbarian might have given his woman before he tossed her over his shoulder and took her into some dark cave. Nora Roberts
That was well-done," Alan told her later as he gave Shelby a limited tour of the house. "Was it?" Laughing, she linked her hand with his. "He's a difficult man to resist." She rose on her toes to nibble his earlobe. "So's his firstborn."That term's to be used reverently," Alan warned her. "Personally I've always found it a pain in the- Nora Roberts
And overpowered by memory. Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely. For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching. Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself, Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again. And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house. Homer
All her life she had wanted to squeeze the toothpaste really squeeze it, not just one little squirt... The paste coiled and swirled and mounded in the washbasin. Ramona decorated the mound with toothpaste roses as if it was a toothpaste birthday cake Beverly Cleary
I want to learn how to speak Italian. For years, I'd wished I could speak Italian--a language I find morebeautiful than roses :) Elizabeth Gilbert
When he rose and turned to go back the tarp was lit from within where the boy had wakened. Sited there in the darkness the frail blue shape of it looked like the pitch of some last venture at the edge of the world. Something all but unaccountable. And so it was. Cormac McCarthy
The difference between you and her(whom I to you did once prefer)Is clear enough to settle: She like a diamond shone, but you. Shine like an early drop of dew. Poised on a red rose petal. The dew-drop carries in its eye. Mountain and forest, sea and sky, With every change of weather; Contrariwise, a diamond splits. The prospect into idle bits. That none can piece together. Robert Graves
In the country neighborhood thereabouts, along the dusty roads, one found at intervals the prettiest little cottage homes, snug and cozy, and so cobwebbed with vines snowed thick with roses that the doors and windows were wholly hidden from sight-sign that these were deserted homes, forsaken years ago by defeated and disappointed families who could neither sell them nor give them away. Mark Twain

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