Flowers Shakespeare Quotes & Sayings

You'd be so lean, that blast of January
Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend,
I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might
Become your time of day. — William Shakespeare

All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary. — William Shakespeare

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle that's broken presently;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress;
So beauty blemished once, for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. — William Shakespeare

I always remember liking school. — Damon Lindelof

Before eating from the tree of knowledge, Adam and Eve had no notion of Good and evil.

They were kicked out of paradise, because the supposed Creator was unable to reason that giving someone free will to choose between two things while having no notion of either, would be the Himalaya of nonsense. — Haroutioun Bochnakian

Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season
Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors,
Which some call nature's bastards. — William Shakespeare

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine. — William Shakespeare

O Prosperina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's wagon; daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength
a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one. — William Shakespeare

There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. — William Shakespeare

There is a willow grows aslant the brook that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; therewith fantastic garlands did she make of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples that the liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke; when down her weedy trophies and herself fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, as one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued unto that element; but long it could not be till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death. — William Shakespeare

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand ... — William Shakespeare

The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. — William Shakespeare

You are the opposite of romantic. Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"I am full of romance. I like sunsets and the ocean and beaches and flowers and love songs and Shakespeare in the park and all that kind of shit." Eli's cheeks flushed. It was adorable on him. "I don't get what any of that has to do with sex."
"I'm not talking about sex, Eli. I'm talking about a kiss."
"Fine. I'll kiss the romantic fuck out of you. — K.A. Mitchell

It's been federal law for over two centuries that the child of an American born abroad is a citizen - a natural born citizen. — Ted Cruz

but thou art a God ready to pardon, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and forsookest them not. — Anonymous

In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue and white;
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee;
Fairies use flower for their charactery. — William Shakespeare

Then, were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet. — William Shakespeare

Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. — William Shakespeare

Fairies use flowers for their charactery. — William Shakespeare

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live your self in eyes of men. — William Shakespeare

One of the bellwether marks of the growth and vitality of the Church is the construction of temples ... We will keep on working to bring the temples to the people, making it more convenient for Latter day Saints everywhere to receive the blessings which can only be had in these holy houses. — Gordon B. Hinckley

These flowers are like the pleasures of the world. — William Shakespeare

Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. — William Shakespeare

And I also know that loving someone - even when it's scary, even when there are consequences - is never the wrong thing to do. — Cassandra Clare

His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise. — William Shakespeare

He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn. — William Shakespeare

The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time. — William Shakespeare

Freedom from a tyrant is easy, but freedom from societal conformity is difficult. — Debasish Mridha

There comes a time in a man's life, if he is unlucky and leads a full life, when he has a secret so dirty that he knows he never will get rid of it. (Shakespeare knew this and tried to say it, but he said it just as badly as anyone ever said it. 'All the perfumes of Arabia' makes you think of all the perfumes of Arabia and nothing more. It is the trouble with all metaphors where human behavior is concerned. People are not ships, chess men, flowers, race horses, oil paintings, bottles of champagne, excrement, musical instruments or anything else but people. Metaphors are all right to give you an idea.) — John O'Hara

O friendship, I too will press flowers between the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets! — Virginia Woolf

All the English flowers came from Shakespeare. I don't know what we did before his time.
The Secret Places of the Heart — H.G.Wells

At the bitter end of an era of liberation - women's lib, kids' lib, animal lib, and everything-but-ethics lib - America has apparently been liberated from its moral foundations. But for too many, the good life has become a living hell. — Billy Graham

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing; To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die. — William Shakespeare

In some ways, we know our hands better than our faces. — Emily Croy Barker

Life sometimes sends out previews - but It never reveals the Surprise Ending. — Wade Rouse

It takes a strong man to love my sister. And you are a strong man. So her are some twin-tips for you from yours truly:
Read her Shakespeare when she cries.
Take walks in the rain and jump in the puddles with her.
Don't mind her when she calls you an asshole during 'that time of the month' - she's a total bitch at those times.
Buy her flowers because it's Tuesday.
Make her do things that scare her.
Don't be a pushover - we don't like that.
Don't be a dick either - we hate that.
Smile at her when you're mad.
Dance with her in the middle of the day.
Kiss her just because.
Love her forever. — Brittainy C. Cherry

Here's flowers for you; hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold. The Winter's Tale, Act 4, Sc.4 — William Shakespeare

Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best. — William Shakespeare

Flowers grow best on dungheaps, as Shakespeare never tires of saying. — J.M. Coetzee

So you are dying for love, then, Will said finally, his voice sounding constricted to his own ears.
'Dying a little faster for love. And there are worse things to die for. — Cassandra Clare