The roses of pleasure seldom last long enough to adorn the brow of him who plucks them; for they are the only roses which do not retain their sweetness after they have lost their beauty.
The changes that have occurred in poetry have been minor when you look at it over the scale of human time. It's like a rose, maybe a hybrid with color and size differentials, but the same genus, plucked from the same original blowsy family.
No,''he said. ''I was a Strigoi. I was one of them. I did. . . terrible things. '' The words were mild, but the tone of his voice spoke legions. The radiant faces of his family turned sober. ''I was lost. Beyond hope. Except. . . Rose believed in me. Rose never gave up.
The artist is he who can take something ordinary and wring out of it attar of roses.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. . . 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
When I tried to do something else, everyone behaved as if I was Gypsy Rose Lee trying to paint a Matisse.
People are always saying, English, English, English rose, and I just feel so completely different.
Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses
Whenever the world throws rose petals at you, which thrill and seduce the ego, beware.
By then Esthappen and Rahel had learned that the world had other ways of breaking men. They were already familiar with the smell. Sicksweet. Like old roses on a breeze.
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.
Ordinary life did not stop just because kings rose and fell, Mosca realized. People adapted. If the world turned upside down, everyone ran and hid in their houses, but a very short while later, if all seemed quiet, they came out again and started selling each other potatoes.
Heart of my heart, the world is young; Love lies hidden in every rose! Every song that the skylark sung Once, we thought, must come to a close: Now we know the spirit of song, Song that is merged in the chant of the whole, Hand in hand as we wander along, What should we doubt of the years that roll?
Roses. Wolf mutts. Tributes. Frosted Dolphins. Friends. Mockingjays. Stylists. Me. Everything screams in my dreams tonight.
Roses are red, violets are blue, so are my balls thanks to you.
Her perfume was a mixture of roses and tear gas.
I quite agree with you. The sun is not kind. God should use a rose amber spot.
I am a zombie fan, but all of the zombie stories Ive enjoyed started when the dead rose and ended three days later with everybody looking exhausted. I was thinking, What happens in 20 years?
I believed the only thing that could turn around this government spending and mounting debt would be if the people rose up.
Back to prison. Maybe if you fake a heart attack, I can make a break for it. (Rose Hathaway says to Lissa Dragomir)