#flowers

If flowers were boogers, I'd pick a few big ones and flick them on your grave. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#death #flowers #funny #grave #death

Ephemerals: That's what Hub called them; flowers that bloomed and died in a matter of weeks, before the trees leafed out and shaded them. She liked the way the word sounded in her head. I am an ephemeral. It made her feel like something passing and precious. ↗

— Pamela Todd

#ephemerality #flowers #precious #spring #faith

Flowers and fear are a lot alike. For one, flowers and fear have a distinct smell, and two, I’m currently trying to grow both in my garden. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#flowers #funny #grow #smell #funny

Why am I always looking at life through a window? ↗

— Daniel Keyes

#flowers-for-algernon #life

It had not seemed difficult, on a small income, to know what was right to do....Now, with so much, it was daily a decision: what was necessary, what was frivolous...It was so much gray--so little black and white; for a year she'd spent more of her time questioning herself and how she lived in Truth than she had done altogether in her life. ↗

— Laura Kinsale

#life

You can never forget the past unless you face up to it. ↗

— Fan Wu

#flowers #friendship #love #past #friendship

I’ll always pick you, the prettiest flower that I can find, even if it’s the hardest one to get. ↗

— pon and zi

#hard #love #love

And that reminds me, Mama! I have just intercepted another of that puppy’s floral offerings to my sister. This billet was attached to it.” (Charles) ↗

— Georgette Heyer

#love #overprotective-brothers #love

The beauty of that June day was almost staggering. After the wet spring, everything that could turn green had outdone itself in greenness and everything that could even dream of blooming or blossoming was in bloom and blossom. The sunlight was a benediction. The breezes were so caressingly soft and intimate on the skin as to be embarrassing. ↗

— Dan Simmons

#beauty-in-nature #flowers #summer #sunlight #sunshine

All around me darkness gathers, Fading is the sun that shone, We must speak of other matters, You can be me when I'm gone Flowers gathered in the morning, Afternoon they blossom on, Still are withered in the evening, You can be me when I'm gone. ↗

— Neil Gaiman

#flowers