People love in different ways. You may have a man who brings you flowers every Monday but doesn't give two hooty-hoots about Valentine's Day. Just because he doesn't give you a valentine doesn't mean he doesn't love you!
Chattering finch and water-fly Are not merrier than I; Here among the flowers I lie Laughing everlastingly. No: I may not tell the best; Surely, friends, I might have guessed Death was but the good King's jest, It was hid so carefully.
It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter sl...
He thought that in the beauty of the world were hid a secret. He thought that the world’s heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world’s pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the ...
We are not interested in developing eternity or immortality, or in preventing being sick or being born. We are interested in doing something while we are alive, while we are breathing, while we can see the beauty of the snow, the flowers, the blue sk...
Since childhood she had walked the Devon rivers with her father looking for flowers and the nests of birds, passing some rocks and trees as old friends, seeing a Spirit everywhere, gentle in thought to all her eyes beheld.
My father was Abe Burrows, who was a Broadway legend. 'Guys and Dolls,' 'How to Succeed,' 'Cactus Flower,' '40 Karats,' 'Can-Can,' 'Happy Hunting,' 'Reclining Figure,' it goes on. He was a legend, and when I was growing up, I was Abe Burrows' kid. Th...
Science is simply the classification of the common knowledge of the common people. It is bringing together the things we all know and putting them together so we can use them. This is creation and finds its analogy in Nature, where the elements are c...
Is the ash in trees, babies, flowers, and visions of God better than the visions themselves? Then you think, none of this is tangible or concrete. So you have another cigarette and think about the (not one) but many ghosts you keep tucked away, under...
Where humanity is going to find itself in, say, 20, 30, 40, or 50 years would be very difficult to predict, I think. There are moments, of course, when you think that it's going from bad to worse, but there are other moments when you think that human...
I was conscious of being wordy as a child. I was a terrible talker. I memorised the Latin names of flowers at five; I was shown off as a freak. My father encouraged me to be wordier than I was: he'd been a street orator at the time of Mosley, and his...
Linda: This farmer, he had a big spread, and a lot of money. Whoever was sitting in a chair when he'd come around, why they'd stand up and give it to him. Linda: Wasn't no harm in him. You'd give him a flower, he'd keep it forever.
Fortunato: I hate those human rights mantras! "You can't touch the scumbag..." "You can't touch the scumbag..." "Here, have some candy, scumbag..." "Take those flowers, dealer!" What a joke!
[last lines] Pearline: In the Kamigata area, they have a sort of tiered lunchbox they use for a single day when flower viewing. Upon returning, they throw them away, trampling them underfoot. The end is important in all things.
Ramona V. Flowers: Well, it was nice to meet you and tell your gay friends I will see them later. Stacey Pilgrim: Gay friends? [Wallace and Jimmy are making out] Stacey Pilgrim: Wallace? Again?
The Monster: [picks last petal off a flower and throws it into the well] Little Girl: Now throw a kiss and say "Bye bye." The Monster: [throws kiss, waves, and grunts "bye bye"] Little Girl: Oh dear. Nothing left. What shall we throw in now?
I did not raise my son, Sam, to celebrate Mother's Day. I didn't want him to feel some obligation to buy me pricey lunches or flowers, some annual display of gratitude that you have to grit your teeth and endure.
Silent as a flower, her face fell in dismay, aware that the ghost of lust ate and left, sensing that there was a different scent of perfume consuming the room, and that she had numbered and counted the he loves me, he loves me not of each petal, wher...
Had he learned nothing from all those years of teaching Hawthorne? Through story after story he’d led his boys to consider the folly of obsession with purity – its roots sunk deep in pride, flowering condemnation and violence against others and s...
I thought I knew what love was….I had this vision of it. Flowers and walks holding hands, and making love, and smiling, and being happy. But now I know what it really is. Love is a poison—and the only antidote is him. Without him I will die.
Like a child standing in a beautiful park with his eyes shut tight, there's no need to imagine trees, flowers, deer, birds, and sky; we merely need to open our eyes and realize what is already here, who we already are - as soon as we stop pretending ...
