I'll tell you how the Sun rose.
But a part of me lies buried in lace and roses on a riverbank in France-a part of me is broken off forever. A part of me will be unflyable, stuck in the climb.
While working with a camera crew supervising flight testing of advanced aircraft at Edward's Air Force Base, California, the camera crew filmed the landing of a strange disc object that flew in over their heads and landed on a dry lake nearby. A camera crewman approached the saucer, it rose up above the area and flew off at a speed faster than any known aircraft.
What a pity flowers can utter no sound!-A singing rose, a whispering violet, a murmuring honeysuckle. . . oh, what a rare and exquisite miracle would these be!
We may pass violets looking for roses. We may pass contentment looking for victory.
A rose on time is more valuable than a $1,000 gift that's too late.
Whoever reaches into a rosebush may seize a handful of flowers; but no matter how many one holds, it's only a small portion of the whole. Nevertheless, a handful is enough to experience the nature of the flowers. Only if we refuse to reach into the bush, because we can't possibly seize all the flowers at once, or if we spread out our handful of roses as if it were the whole of the bush itself -- only then does it bloom apart from us, unknown to us, and we are left alone.
Viva la the New Brigade! Viva la the Old One, too! Viva la, the Rose shall fade, And the Shamrock shine for ever new!
Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII of France, had such an aversion to roses that she could not stand seeing one even in a painting.
Most fathers don't threaten to disembowel their daughter's boyfriends. " "That's not true. And anyway, that's not what I actually said. It was much worse.
Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.
A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a broken butterfly wing.
A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.
I've gradually risen from lower-class background to lower-class foreground.
I have amethyst geodes by my meditation - yoga room and large rose quartz throughout my back garden.
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
I know Mama Rose is a great role and I love having a chance to do it.
But ne'er the rose without the thorn.
Rose: You have a gift Jack, you do. You see people. Jack: I see you. Rose: And? Jack: You wouldn't have jumped.
I suppose that by this time they had finished their dressing. Roger Scurvilegs tells us nothing on such important matters; no doubt from modesty. "Next morning they rose," he says, and disappoints us of a picture of Udo brushing his hair.