Roses Bring Quotes & Sayings

Just bring some roses, then. Tell her you were wrong. But don't go into all sorts of promises about how you'll never do it again. Instead, tell her you've been thinking about how she must have felt when she saw that other girl hugging you. That way you can start her talking about her feelings. Then you've got to listen, hard. Let her know that her feelings are important to you. That's all she wanted from you in the first place. — Tim Tharp

Grass-fed cattle are leaner. But it's not true that they are less flavorful. — Alice Waters

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses. — James Oppenheim

You are a blue rose, Letti. It's almost impossible that you exist amongst the other roses but you do. You bring wonder to those who are lucky enough to find you. — S.R. Crawford

First make sure that what you aspire to accomplish is worth accomplishing, and then throw your whole vitality into it. What's worth doing is worth doing well. And to do anything well, wheter it be typing a letter or drawing up an agreement involving millions, we must give not only our hands to the doing of it, but our brains, our enthusiasm, the best - all that is in us. The task to which you dedicate yourself can never become a drudgery. — B.C. Forbes

I will soothe you and heal you, I will bring you roses. I too have been covered with thorns. — Rumi

The working-class black Southern Christian culture I come from still nurtures me, and I mean directly, daily. — Bell Hooks

Hither,hither, from thy home,airy sprite, i bid thee come! born of roses, fed on dew, charms and potions canst thow brew? bring me here, with elfin speed,the fragment philter witch i need; make it sweet and swift and stong, spirite amserw now my song
hither i come, from my airy home, afar silver moon. take magic spell, and use it well. or its powers will vanish soon! — Louisa May Alcott

Lifetime is a child at play, moving pieces in a game. Kingship belongs to the child. — Heraclitus

When I'm approaching a water jump, with dozens of photographers waiting for me to fall in, and hundreds of spectators wondering what's going to happen next, the horse is just about the only one who doesn't know I am Royal! — Anne, Princess Royal

I don't mind growing old. If I have to go before my time, this is how I'll go
cigarette in one hand, glass of scotch in the other. — Ava Gardner

When you are old, at evening candle-lit
beside the fire bending to your wool,
read out my verse and murmur, "Ronsard writ
this praise for me when I was beautiful."
And not a maid but, at the sound of it,
though nodding at the stitch on broidered stool,
will start awake, and bless love's benefit
whose long fidelities bring Time to school.
I shall be thin and ghost beneath the earth
by myrtle shade in quiet after pain,
but you, a crone, will crouch beside the hearth
mourning my love and all your proud disdain.
And since what comes to-morrow who can say?
Live, pluck the roses of the world to-day. — Pierre De Ronsard

I like to say I'm not a Republican or a Democrat, I'm a Christ-o-crat. — Rod Parsley

You must bring great resolve to your work. It's not all a bed of roses. — Douglas Conant

I know patients who bring a dozen roses to the doctor's office. And, boy, the next visit, nobody forgets that. You come in and hey - 'Here's the lady who brought the roses' vs. 'Here's the lung cancer.' — Bernie Siegel

O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells; The swallow from her distant clime, The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the sun; The gilded evenings, calm and late, When merry children homeward run, And peeping stars bid lovers wait. Bring back the singing; and the scent Of meadowlands at dewy prime;- Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summertime! — William Allingham

Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God. So the Christian, too, belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes. There is his commission, his work. 'The kingdom is to be in the midst of your enemies. And he who will not suffer this does not want to be of the Kingdom of Christ; he wants to be among friends, to sit among roses and lilies, not with the bad people but the devout people. O you blasphemers and betrayers of Christ! If Christ had done what you are doing who would ever have been spared' (Luther). — Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The thing about growing old is you have to accept it - if you don't, you'll be as miserable as sin. You've got to try and find the few good things about it. — Judy Parfitt

The Sleeping

I have imagined all this:
In 1940 my parents were in love
And living in the loft on West 10th
Above Mark Rothko who painted cabbage roses
On their bedroom walls the night they got married.

I can guess why he did it.
My mother's hair was the color of yellow apples
And she wore a velvet hat with her pajamas.

I was not born yet. I was remote as starlight.
It is hard for me to imagine that
My parents made love in a roomful of roses
And I wasn't there.

But now I am. My mother is blushing.
This is the wonderful thing about art.
It can bring back the dead. It can wake the sleeping
As it might have late that night
When my father and mother made love above Rothko
Who lay in the dark thinking Roses, Roses, Roses. — Lynn Emanuel

Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre,
And chaste desires do nourish in your mind,
Let not her fault your sweet affections marre,
Ne blot the bounty of all womankind;
'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find:
Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds;
For this was not to loue, but lust inclind;
For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds,
And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds. — Edmund Spenser

In January the lavender heather and white candytufts would bloom. February perked up the plum tree, and March would bring forth the daffodils, narcissus, and moonlight bloom. April lilacs and sugartuft would blossom along with the pink and bloodred rhododendrons, bluebells, and the apple tree in the victory garden. As the weather warmed, miniature purple irises would rise amid the volunteers of white alyssum and verbena. The roses, dahlias, white Shasta daisies, black-eyed Susans, and marigolds would bloom from late spring to early fall. Leota could see it. She knew exactly — Francine Rivers

We can pretend this never happened."
"Up to you." He touched my cheek with his fingertips, and I felt like an electrical cable to my nervous system went live. "I wouldn't mind finishing the job."
"Let's not promise each other anything."
"All right. No promises," he said. — C.D. Reiss

Goggie!" she exclaimed, holding both hands out urgently to Lad, who'd been dozing by the fire.
"By all means," Michael replied amicably, as if he and Mary were having a conversation. "Let's bring the mutt with us, as well. He's almost presentable now that he stinks o' roses. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Flowers die and wine gets consumed. Both are lovely. I appreciate both. Wine and roses. I actually had someone bring me a lobe of foie gras once. — Padma Lakshmi

How does one stay mindful? Where feelings are known as they arise, known as they persist, known as they pass away. Thoughts are known as they arise, known as they persist, known as they pass away. Perceptions are known they arise, known as they persist, known as they pass away. This is how a monk stays awake. — Gautama Buddha

The whole plan of extermination was nothing less than a cold blooded, calculated political measure, having for its object the annihilation of a superior element in the population, which might prove troublesome, and to this must be added the motive of greed. — Fridtjof Nansen

The knife of historical relativism ... which has cut to pieces all metaphysics and religion must also bring about healing. — Wilhelm Dilthey

The country ever has a lagging Spring,
Waiting for May to call its violets forth,
And June its roses-showers and sunshine bring,
Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;
To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,
And one by one the singing-birds come back.
Within the city's bounds the time of flowers
Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,
Such as full often, for a few bright hours,
Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,
Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom-
And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom. — William C. Bryant

She seems somewhat morose and out of sorts. Do you beat her often?'
'I must admit that I do not.'
'There is the answer! Beat her well; beat her often! It will bring roses to her cheeks! There is nothing better to induce good cheer in a woman than a fine constitutional beating. — Jack Vance

You want us to fear you," she growls at me, speaking now in accented Kenettran. "You think that you can come here and destroy our homes, kill our loved ones - then make us grovel at your feet. You think we will sell you our souls for a few coins." She lifts her chin. "But I am not afraid of you."
"Is that so?" I tilt my head at her curiously. "You should be."
She challenges me with a smile. "You can't even bring yourself to spill our blood." She nods in the direction of Sergio, who has already started to draw his sword. "You have one of your lackeys do it for you. You're a coward queen, hiding behind your army. But you cannot crush our spirits beneath your Roses' heels - you cannot win. — Marie Lu

The action of Pity leaps quicker than light from the highest place to the lowest to bring healing and joy, whatever the cost to itself. It changes darkness into light and evil into good. But it will not, at the cunning tears of Hell, impose on good the tyranny of evil. Every disease that submits to a cure shall be cured: but we will not call blue yellow to please those who insist on having jaundice, nor make a midden of the world's garden for the sake of some who cannot abide the smell of roses. — C.S. Lewis

The Unhappy may, possibly, by indulging Thought, hit on some lucky Stratagem for the Relief of his Misfortunes, and the Happy may be infinitely more so by contemplating on his Condition. — Eliza Haywood

As sure as roses will have thorns, love will bring you pain — Teresa Bodwell