Women Like Flowers Quotes & Sayings

Royal summoned mourners. They came from the village, from the neighboring hills and, wailing like dogs at midnight, laid siege to the house. Old women beat their heads against the walls, moaning men prostrated themselves: it was the art of sorrow, and those who best mimicked grief were much admired. After the funeral everyone went away, satisfied that they'd done a good job. — Truman Capote

The best thing about a heartbreak, you start looking for happiness elsewhere. You realize like wild flowers, happiness can grow anywhere and everywhere. And, most importantly within you.
Be wild, dear heart, happiness awaits you. — Saru Singhal

Just about all men need a woman in one way or another, unless they're very strange indeed. Tormenting you refreshes him. And you shouldn't underestimate the gratitude all men feel for women's beauty. Men who truly don't like flowers are very uncommon and men who don't respond to a beautiful woman are even more uncommon. It's not primarily sexual; it's a lifting of the spirits beauty gives. He'll be in to torment you, and tease you, and enrage you, but really to have a good, refreshing look at you. — Robertson Davies

Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume. — Heinrich Heine

Meanwhile, in the expansiveness of her joy, the Moon filled all of the room like a phosphoric atmosphere, like a luminous poison; and all of that living light thought and said: You will be eternally subject to the influence of my kiss. You will be beautiful in my manner. You will love what I love and who loves me: water, the clouds, silence, and the night; the immense, green sea; formless and multiform water; the place where you will not be; the lover you will not know; monstrous flowers; perfumes that make you delirious; cats who swoon on pianos, and who moan like women, with a hoarse, gentle voice! — Charles Baudelaire

I don't know why I've always been uncomfortable being too feminine. If a dress has too many flowers on it, if I'm giggling too much, I'm like ugh, put some combat boots on. I love masculine women. I think it's because I'm like a fake lesbian, I don't know. — Moon Bloodgood

The unknown doesn't bother me. I nod now and then to the beautiful women plucking the flowers in my gardens and I hear the wind rustling through the high pines, through the forests of certainty, of knowing that all this exists whenever I decide to think it. I am grateful that this has been given to me. And I puff on my pipe in all humility and feel like God himself, who is infinity itself. I sit there aimlessly, God's aim is aimlessness.

But to keep this awareness always is granted to no man — Nescio

I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers. I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars. — Michael Palin

my heart aches for sisters more than anything
it aches for women helping women
like flowers ache for spring — Rupi Kaur

Some women feel the need to act like they're never scared, needy or hurt; like they're as hardened as a man. I think that's dishonest. It's ok to feel delicate sometimes. Real beauty is in the fragility of your petals. A rose that never wilts isn't a rose at all. — Crystal Woods

The Fairy's dress rustled as she turned. Human women dressed like flowers, layers of petals around a mortal, rotting core. — Cornelia Funke

There was a danger whenever I was on home ground. It was the danger of seeing my life through other eyes than my own.
Seeing it as an ever-increasing roll of words like barbed wire, intricate, bewildering, uncomforting - set against the rich productions, the food, flowers, and knitted garments, of other women's domesticity. It became harder to say that it was worth the trouble. — Alice Munro

The problem, if anything, was precisely the opposite. I had too much to write:
too many fine and miserable buildings to construct and streets to name and clock towers to set chiming,
too many characters to raise up from the dirt like flowers whose petals I peeled down to the intricate frail organs within,
too many terrible genetic and fiduciary secrets to dig up and bury and dig up again,
too many divorces to grant,
heirs to disinherit,
trysts to arrange,
letters to misdirect into evil hands,
innocent children to slay with rheumatic fever,
women to leave unfulfilled and hopeless,
men to drive to adultery and theft,
fires to ignite at the hearts of ancient houses. — Michael Chabon

Why are women wearing perfumes that smell like flowers to attract men? Men don't like flowers. I have a great idea for a scent that will attract men - how about "New Car Interior"? — Rita Rudner

Do you see a theme emerging? Women like flowers; men like food! — Joshua Harris

Pops says he loves me just the way I am, but not everyone in the world is like my father. Maman, for example. A difficult and dissatisfied woman. She made me learn flower arranging and how to walk properly
books on my head, the whole bit. These things ruined me for life. Now it sets my teeth on edge when I see flowers carelessly flung into a vase, and I'm forever looking at other women in the street and thinking, [I]Sloppy ... sloppy[/I]. And I know I shouldn't care, and I want to poke myself in the eye for caring, but I care anyway, so thanks for that, Maman. — Helen Oyeyemi

Except with their life mate. I'd convinced myself those women possessed a secret love potion they weren't sharing with the general public - one that tamed the primitive ways of a Shifter and made them do romantic things like buy flowers and rub their woman's feet with scented oils. — Dannika Dark

Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally ... — Louisa May Alcott

Charlotte came in herself, like a big bridal edifice in her veil and other lace, carrying long-stemmed flowers. With her there wasn't much hiding of the behind-the-scenes of life to keep a man in the bonds of love, as Lucretius advises when he tells you to make allowances for mortality. You only had to see her practical mouth to know everything about mortality was admitted in advance, though she did for form's sake all that other women do. Her frankness gave her a kind of nobility. — Saul Bellow

Good God. He felt like he'd just finished running the Boston Marathon.
How did she do it? How the hell did she do all that every day, and probably a lot more? But just
the dinner, the squabbles, the mess, the sheer volume of stuff that needed to be remembered, done,
handled with three kids. It was mentally and physically exhausting.
Fun, he admitted, but exhausting.
And she'd have to get up in the morning, get them up, dressed, fed. Then go to work. After
work, she'd replay - basically - what he'd just done. And with all that, she still had to maintain the house
and run a business.
Did women have superpowers?
Regardless, he was sending his mother flowers in the morning. — Nora Roberts

A rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose.All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like women too. I want to encourage women to embrace their own uniqueness. — Miranda Kerr

Women are like beautiful flowers. Only when you love them and take good care of them will they fully bloom into the beautiful flowers that they are. — Avijeet Das

I look up at the ceiling, tracing the foliage of the wreath. Today it makes me think of a hat, the large-brimmed hats women used to wear at some period during the old days: hats like enormous halos, festooned with fruit and flowers, and the feathers of exotic birds; hats like an idea of paradise, floating just above the head, a thought solidified. — Margaret Atwood

I decide that if I ever get to come back here under different, nonstressful circumstances, I will stay at this hotel and drink fruity drinks and lay in the sand until my skin looks like it had a makeout session with the sun. But today, I'm looking for an inconspicuous way into the water.
We head out of the lobby and get waylaid by hula dancers in grass skirts handing out necklaces of flowers. Apparently Toraf doesn't like necklaces of flowers; as one of the women raises it above his head, he slaps her hand away. I show him, as I accept the gift around my neck, that the woman with the coconut boobs was just trying to be his friend. Just like all the women he's come across so far.
"Humans are too weird," he whispers, unconvinced. I wonder what Toraf would think of Disney World.
Our hotel is right on the water, so we pass through the lobby to the back. The beach is lined with lounge chairs and umbrellas and people scantily clad and people who shouldn't be scantily clad. — Anna Banks

Vida was sound asleep when I went back to my room. I turned on the light and it woke her up. She was blinking and her face had that soft marble quality to it that beautiful women have when they are suddenly awakened and are not quite ready for it yet. "What's happening?" she said. "It's another book," she replied, answering her own question. "Yes," I said. "What's it about?" she said automatically like a gentle human phonograph. "It's about growing flowers in hotel rooms. — Richard Brautigan

Consider ourselves fortunate."
Maldynado's jaw slackened. "How so?"
"Amaranthe's birthday is next week and, with our limited funds, I didn't think I'd be able to find her a gift."
"So, you're getting her ... dead bodies?"
"Perfect, don't you think?" Books smiled.
"Most women like jewelry and flowers."
"Do you honestly believe she would prefer jewelry over a mystery to solve?"
Maldynado jiggled the key fob thoughtfully, then nodded toward the bodies. "Can we say one is from me? — Lindsay Buroker

And the two women stood side by side looking at the slender, flowering tree. Although it was so still it seemed, like the flame of a candle, to stretch up, to point, to quiver in the bright air, to grow taller and taller as they gazed - almost to touch the rim of the round, silver moon.
How long did they stand there? Both, as it were, caught in that circle of unearthly light, understanding each other perfectly, creatures of another world, and wondering what they were to do in this one with all this blissful treasure that burned in their bosoms and dropped, in silver flowers, from their hair and hands? — Katherine Mansfield

These women lived their lives happily. They had been taught, probably by loving parents, not to exceed the boundaries of their happiness regardless of what they were doing. But therefore they could never know real joy. Which is better? Who can say? Everyone lives the way she knows best. What I mean by 'their happiness' is living a life untouched as much as possible by the knowledge that we are really, all of us, alone. That's not a bad thing. Dressed in their aprons, their smiling faces like flowers, leaning to cook, absorbed in their little troubles and perplexities, they fall in love and marry. I think that's great. I wouldn't mind that kind of life. Me, when I'm utterly exhausted by it all, my skin breaks out, on those lonely evenings when I call my friends again and again and nobody's home, then I despise my own life - my birth, my upbringing, everything. I feel only regret for the whole thing. — Banana Yoshimoto

We were emerging from the period of war, of uniforms, of women-soldiers built like boxers. I drew women-flowers, soft shoulders, fine waists like liana and wide skirts like corolla. — Christian Dior

Women like clothes, they like shoes, they like flowers and they like people to look at them and think,'God, she's gorgeous.' The more people who think that, the better it is. The one day in your life where you get all that rolled up into one is your wedding day. And it
comes with jewelry and presents and ends
with a vacation where it's practically law that you have to wear fabulous underwear and have lots of sex. — Kristen Ashley

I am like my father - witless in matters of the heart, and of a poor way with women; yet the jewels that strew these royal garden paths - the trees, the flowers, the sward - all must have read the love that has filled my heart since first my eyes were made new by imaging your perfect face and form; so how could you alone have been blind to it? — Edgar Rice Burroughs

Shall I tell you the secret of true love? her father once asked her. A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother's porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums. That's Mama! Inej had cried. Yes, Mama loves wild geraniums because no other flower has quite the same color, and she claims that when she snaps the stem and puts a sprig behind her ear, the whole world smells like summer. Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart. That — Leigh Bardugo

Women always enter a relationship like they do an apartment. A few flowers here, a throw pillow there - the next thing you know, the walls are covered in pastel paintings. — Dannika Dark

thought much of women; their grace and beauty, blooming like lotus flowers, floating like milkweed on the wind. — Diana Gabaldon

A long suburb of red brick houses -some with patches of garden-ground, where coal-dust and factory smoke darkened the shrinking leaves, and coarse rank flowers, and where the struggling vegetation sickened and sank under the hot breath of kiln and furnace.
On mounds of ashes by the wayside, sheltered only by a few rough boards, or rotten pent-house roofs, strange engines spun and writhed like tortured creatures; clanking their iron chains, shrieking in their rapid whirl from time to time as though in torment unendurable, and making the ground tremble with their agonies.
Dismantled houses here and there appeared, tottering to the earth, propped up by fragments of others that had fallen down, unroofed, windowless, blackened, desolate, but yet inhabited. Men, women, children, wan in their looks and ragged in attire, tended the engines, fed their tributary fire, begged upon the road, or scowled half-naked from the doorless houses. — Charles Dickens

It seems to me as a woman's face doesna want flowers; it's almost like a flower itself ... It's like when a man's singing a good tune, you don't want t' hear bells tinkling and interfering wi' the sound. — George Eliot

I am not interested in having the world revolve around me; that's too boring of an idea. I would rather revolve around the world and try to leave my fingerprints, everywhere. My fingerprints mingled in with all the other fingerprints and all the laughter and all the beautiful things like gratitude, grace, faithfulness and flowers. — C. JoyBell C.

He doesn't say what he thinks of my paintings, but I know anyway. He thinks they are irrelevant. In his mind, what I paint is lumped in with the women who paint flowers. Lumped is the word. The present tense is moving forward, discarding concept after concept, and I am off to the side somewhere, fiddling with egg tempera and flat surfaces, as if the twentieth century has never happened.
There is freedom in this: because it doesn't matter what I do, I can do what I like — Margaret Atwood

People did not pick up the sexual connotations that often make even the most innocent expression of affection seem sexual to our sensibilities today. Perfectly respectable nineteenth-century women wrote to each other in terms like these: "[T]he expectation once more to see your face again, makes me feel hot and feverish." They carved their initials into trees, set flowers in front of one another's portraits, danced together, kissed, held hands, and endured intense jealousies over rivals or small slights.24 — Stephanie Coontz

Look, Charlie," said Vince leaning back in his chair. "It's real simple. We will be four people
two men and two women
I figure it's better to have two women instead of three men and one woman so she'll have someone she can confide in and all. Women need that kind of thing. Anyway, we'll be four people
friends
housemates
equal partners. We'll be an alliance. We'll be just like family. And we'll help take care of one another. We'll have a nice home, each with our own private bedroom and bathroom, and a nice yard with flowers."
"And maybe a vegetable garden," added Charlie.
"That's it," grinned Vince. — Barbara Casey

Is there a relative value of beauty? Is evanescence - fleetingness - a necessary element of the thing that most moves us? A shooting star dazzles more than the sun. A child captivates like an elf, but grows into grossness, an ogre, a harpy. A flower splays itself into color - the lilies of the field! - more treasured than any painting of a flower. But of all these things, women's grace, shooting stars, flowers, and paintings, only a painting endures. — Gregory Maguire

A little man in a threadbare coat spoke up for the poor as if he really knew what he was talking about. The women with the flowers threw them down for him. "That's Robert Speer," one said. "Something like that. He's our man. — Marge Piercy

I actually use women's perfume - I have since I was a kid. It's called Anais Anais, from Rachael. It smells like a beautiful woman and a bouquet of flowers. I use that and Right Guard deodorant. — Albert Hammond Jr.

I want to encourage women to embrace their own uniqueness. Because just like a rose is beautiful, so is a sunflower, so is a peony. I mean, all flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like women too. — Miranda Kerr

Sometimes, if the two old women
were not asleep, they heard him pacing slowly along the walks at a very
advanced hour of the night. He was there alone, communing with himself,
peaceful, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the
serenity of the ether, moved amid the darkness by the visible splendor of
the constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his heart to
the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. At such moments, while he
offered his heart at the hour when nocturnal flowers offer their perfume,
illuminated like a lamp amid the starry night, as he poured himself out
in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not
have told himself, probably, what was passing in his spirit; he felt
something take its flight from him, and something descend into him.
Mysterious exchange of the abysses of the soul with the abysses of the
universe! — Victor Hugo

The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove that their minds are not in a healthy state; for, like the flowers which are planted in too rich a soil, strenght state; usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. — Mary Wollstonecraft