Love Rose Thorn Quotes & Sayings

Patience is not sitting and waiting, it is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose, looking at the night and seeing the day. Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full. — Rumi

Love and hatred belong to the same plant: one is rose, the other is thorn. — Vinita Kinra

Every rose has it's thorn, but that doesn't mean you have to put up with a ton of pricks. — Kelly Rossi

The modest Rose puts forth a Thorn.
The humble Sheep a threat'ning Horn.
While the Lily white shall in love delight.
Nor a Thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright. — William Blake

A Mixed-breed Apple
A little mixed-breed apple,
half red, half yellow, tells this story.
A lover and beloved get separated.
Their being apart was one thing,
but they have opposite responses.
The lover feels pain and grows pale.
The beloved flushes and feels proud.
I am a thorn next to my master's rose.
We seem to be two, but we are not. — Rumi

It astounds me that out of all the flowers in the garden, the rose would fall in love with the thorn. — H R Brock

Patience does not mean to passively endure. It means to be farsighted enough to trust the end result of a process. What does patience mean? It means to look at the thorn and see the rose, to look at the night and see the dawn. Impatience means to be so shortsighted as to not be able to see the outcome. The lovers of God never run out of patience, for they know that time is needed for the crescent moon to become full. — Elif Shafak

I was a thorn rushing to be with a rose, vinegar blending with honey ... Then I found some dirt to make an ointment that would honor my soul ... Love says, You are right, but don't claim these changes. Remember, I am wind. You are an ember I ignite. — Rumi

A little while the rose, And after that the thorn; An hour of dewy morn, And then the glamour goes. Ah, love in beauty born, A little while the rose! — Henry Van Dyke

To Hope

Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes!
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn!
For me wilt thou renew the wither'd rose,
And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
Ah come, sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest,
Like the young hours that lead the tender year,
Enchantress! come, and charm my cares to rest: -
Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear!
A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain,
Must I a sad existence still deplore?
Lo! - the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain,
'For me the vernal garland blooms no more.'
Come then, 'pale Misery's love!' be thou my cure,
And I will bless thee, who, tho' slow, art sure. — Charlotte Turner Smith