Convolvulus Quotes & Sayings

Screen'd is this nook o'er the high, half-reap'd field,
And here till sundown, Shepherd, will I be.
Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep,
And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see
Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils creep:
And air-swept lindens yield
Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers
Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,
And bower me from the August sun with shade;
And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers ... — Matthew Arnold

Trudging alone along that black road, sometimes in the teeth of wind and rain, and watching the white distant gleam of convolvulus through the park railings, gave me an exhilarating sensation of adventure. — Simone De Beauvoir

Bad people are, from the point of view of art, fascinating studies. They represent colour, variety and strangeness. Good people exasperate one's reason; bad people stir one's imagination. — Oscar Wilde

To tell a falsehood is like the cut of a saber: for though the wound may heal, the scar of it will remain. — Saadi

There is an herb named in Latine Convolvulus (i.e. with wind), growing among shrubs and bushes, with carrieth a flower not unlike to this Lilly, save that it yeeldeth no smell nor hath those chives within; for whitenesse they resemble one another very much, as if Nature in making this floure were a learning and trying her skill how to frame the Lilly indeed. — Pliny The Elder

America is the only place where people go hunting on a full stomach. — Chris Rock

I really wish you hadn't worn that sweater,'he muttered into her ear.
'It's good practice for you,' she replied,her lips moving against his skin.
'Tomorrow,fishnets.'
Against her side,warm and familiar,she felt him laugh. — Cassandra Clare

All Profound things, and emotions of things are preceded and attended by Silence. — Herman Melville

The scariest thing in the world is losing your mask. — Patrick Roy

The more bleach in the bedsheets, the greater Chastity's impulse to roll around in them. A party would be thrown, she decided, the kind that would tell a small story in the contents of the dustpan the next morning. Detached sequins and mint leaves muddled by high heels, shrimp tales mixed in with a few shards of broken glass, a crust of bread. She rolled in her bleached sheets until they wrapped around her like a storm, and she fell asleep in the eye of it. — Amelia Gray