Faded Rose Quotes & Sayings

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth. — Rumi

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone by? — Tanya Tucker

There was a pause as Leopardstar strained to take a breath, and Mistyfoot half rose, ready to call for help. Then Leopardstar relaxed again. "I am sorry not to have known the joy of having kits. There was a time when I thought it might happen, but it was not to be." Her words faded away as though she was picturing something she had dreamed of long ago. "Perhaps it was for the best. But I would have been proud to call you my daughter, Mistyfoot. — Erin Hunter

This is the good news of the gospel. Peace came. Peace lived. Peace died. Peace rose again. Peace reigns on your behalf. Peace indwells you by the Spirit. Peace graces you with everything you need. Peace convicts, forgives, and delivers you. Peace will finish his work in you. Peace will welcome you into glory, where Peace will live with you in peace and righteousness forever. Peace isn't a faded dream. No, Peace is real. Peace is a person, and his name is Jesus. — Paul David Tripp

I thought I appreciated books, but this was an alter to the book gods. It was hard not to be impressed. I didn't know what had the most impact: the rosewood shelving, the rolling library ladders, the mezzanine floor with the ornate spiral wrought-iron staircases at each end, the carved moldings, the scent of well-loved books, or the silky Aubusson rugs in a soft faded palette of rose, sage and aqua. — Victoria Abbott

My Heart fell.
Since I could remember my heart has balanced
A long such a thin line of right and wrong, love and hate.
The line already stretched to the extremes, taught with fear and uncertainty
Tension reached its maximum
When that day came around
Ever since that day when learned the truth
The day my eyes were forcefully
peeled open by dull razors
That day the line faded and the tight rope snapped.
With no line to follow my heart fell.
Now concussed, delirious and confused.
My heart wanders between worlds.
Never certain of who it is
where it was, or how it should be. — Kevin Rose

She prunes the idea away like a faded rose blossom, and quickly discards it as if the thorns might puncture her resolve. — Beth Neff

What are your thoughts on finding Rose a husband? She said something about a Lord Burkham." Her smile faded. "The viscount is not right for Rose." With a dismissive gesture, she added, "He would bore her within a year." Good, Iain thought. He was glad to hear it. Though he supposed he had no right to feel possessive of Rose, he couldn't deny that her kiss had affected him. It had been an impulse, misguided by the need to touch a beautiful woman. The moment he'd tasted her lips, he'd known how forbidden this was. And perhaps that was why the memory lingered. But more than that, he liked Rose. She had wit and humor that made her easy to be around. He genuinely wanted to help her walk again, though he knew how difficult it would be. Every time she stood, her face brightened with such joy and wonder, he felt the echo of pride in her accomplishment. Being around her made him feel that he could have a purpose, and she had never once made him feel inferior. "What — Michelle Willingham

Scattered with poppies, the golden-green waves of the cornfields faded. The red sun seemed to tip one end of a pair of scales below the horizon, and simultaneously to lift an orange moon at the other. Only two days off the full, it rose behind a wood, swiftly losing its flush as it floated up, until the wheat loomed out of the twilight like a metallic and prickly sea. — Patrick Leigh Fermor

He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies. He was slowly talking himself to sleep and taking me with him, but in the quietness of his foggy island there rose the faded image of gray house with sad brown doors. — Harper Lee

I cleaned the shit off my pink high-tops and drove home, stopping for an espresso at the coffeehouse across from the college. Men and women were hunched over copies of Jean Paul Sartre and writing in their journals. Most wore the thin-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses favored by intellectuals. Their clothes were faded to a precisely fashionable degree; you can buy them that way from catalogs now, new clothes processed to look old. The intellectuals looked at me in my overalls the way such people inevitably look at farmers.
I dumped a lot of sugar in my espresso and sipped it delicately at a corner table near the door. I looked at them the way farmers look at intellectuals. — Mary Rose O'Reilley

Blake was right. They're a force of nature, like a hurricane or an earthquake.'
Rose's smile faded as she registered the intensity of Jake's stare as he watched the tiger. It was as if he was trying to take in more about the animal than normal sight could give, trying to fit the essence of the thing through senses that weren't up to the task.
'Burning bright!' Jake whispered, nodding. — K. Valisumbra

But the flames did die down, perhaps from lack, perhaps from excess of fuel. Little by little, love was quenched by absence, and longing smothered by routine; and that fiery glow which tinged her pale sky scarlet grew more clouded, then gradually faded away. Her benumbed consciousness even led her to mistake aversion toward her husband for desire for her loved, the searing touch of hatred for the rekindling of love; but, as the storm still raged on and her passion burnt itself to ashes, no help came and no sun rose, the darkness of night closed in on every side, and she was left to drift in a bitter icy void.
So the bad days of Tostes began again. She believed herself much more unhappy, now, because she had experienced sorrow, and knew for certain that ti would ever end. — Gustave Flaubert

All the problems in this world, he had told me, stem from the precept that we ought not to care about one another just because we are strangers.

Why should we not care about what happens to strangers? Could you imagine the sort of world we might inhabit if we honestly and genuinely wanted to see one another living good, safe lives? Can you even think what it might look like if we all cared about strangers as much as we cared about loved ones, so that the line between the two faded over time, and the precept - the crippling precept - disappeared altogether? — Rose Christo

In two weeks a man could completely refashion his history; he could walk all the way to Ohio or Iowa, change his name and his accent, disappear into another life. In the woods, footprints faded, the wind rose up to disperse of clothing, flesh became grass. — Alice Hoffman

Gather Me


Scatter me into the digression of this noise
For, I hear not when my eyes are at peace.
I smother the audacity in my voice
Hiding behind a half-charred fleece;
Let me dwell with the fleeting score,
For, I breathe not when my heart is agog!
I strangle the remains of what you tore
Building the ruins of a deserted synagogue;
Then, gather me
From the compositions of a faded song,
From the reverberations of an unaided gong;
From the mirth of our spring sky,
From the waters where thirsts lie;
From the sleekness of white-rose petals,
From the shrieks of remorse bells;
From the digression of laughter beats,
From the silence of bloodied streets;
From the eyes of their precarious silence,
From there; thence, from there; thence,
Then, gather me. — Ashfaq Saraf

Through her, in microcosm, the wide earth sobbed. The starglobe sank in her; the colours faded. The death-dew rose and the wild birds in her breast climbed to her throat and gathered songless, hovering, all tumult, wing to wing, so ardent for those climes where all things end. — Mervyn Peake

They had painted a lady leaning her arms on the sill of the window. This lady was waiting for a husband. Her flesh was slack and she was some forty-five years old. Perhaps she had been waiting since she was fifteen. A rose and mauve lady that had not yet gathered her flesh and her beauty into dark clothes, and still waited, like a rose stripped of its petals, with her faded colors and her artificial smile, bitter as a grimace. — Rafael Sanchez Ferlosio

I managed to ask a question that had been burning inside me. "Do you still love her? Rose?" Along with not knowing what it felt like to be in love, I also didn't know how long it took to recover from love.
Adrian's smile faded. His gaze turned inward. "Yes. No. It's hard to get over someone like that. She had a huge effect on me, both good and bad. That's hard to move past. I try not to think about her much in terms of love and hate. Mostly I'm trying to get on with my life. With mixed results, unfortunately. — Richelle Mead

And once I knew a meditative rose That never raised its head from bowing down, Yet drew its inspiration from the stars. It bloomed and faded here beside the road, And, being a poet, wrote on empty air With fragrance all the beauty of its soul. — Henry Abbey

A light, this side of the hills toward Argyle, / flowed like fog through the hollows, rose to the depth / of the hills, illumined me. I faded in it / as the world faded in me, dissolved in the light. / No one to know and nothing knowable. / Oh, we know that knowing is not our way; / but, the choice is ours, would make it our way, would leave / the world for the same world made knowable. — William Bronk

A fool I was to sleep at noon,
And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
A fool to snap my lily.
My garden-plot I have not kept;
Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
It's winter now I waken.
Talk what you please of future spring
And sun-warm'd sweet to-orrow:
Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
I sit alone with sorrow. — Christina Rossetti

The flower bloomed and faded. The sun rose and sank. The lover loved and went. And what the poets said in rhyme, the young translated into practice. — Virginia Woolf

Somehow I cannot let it go yet, funeral though it is,
Let it remain back there on its nail suspended,
With pink, blue, yellow, all blanch'd, and the white now gray
and ashy,
One wither'd rose put years ago for thee, dear friend;
But I do not forget thee. Hast thou then faded?
Is the odor exhaled? Are the colors, vitalities, dead?
No, while memories subtly play - the past vivid as ever;
For but last night I woke, and in that spectral ring saw thee,
Thy smile, eyes, face, calm, silent, loving as ever:
So let the wreath hang still awhile within my eye-reach,
It is not yet dead to me, nor even pallid. — Walt Whitman