#lowers

The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms. Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him. ↗

— Auguste Rodin

#bending #blossoms #carry #confidant #cordial

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light. ↗

— Theodore Roethke

#deep #flowers #keep #light #roots

It's all about creation and surprise. It just needs to be appreciated and watered like flowers. You have to water flowers. These peaks will come again. ↗

— Sonny Rollins

#again #appreciated #come #creation #flowers

Yeah, but in the end his followers take what they want from his philosophy. Maybe it doesn't matter what's going on in David Icke's mind. It's how other people take him. ↗

— Jon Ronson

#end #followers #going #him #his

If you allow one single germ, one single seed of slavery to remain in the soil of America... that germ will spring up, that noxious weed will thrive, and again stifle the growth, wither the leaves, blast the flowers and poison the fair fruits of freedom. ↗

— Ernestine L. Rose

#allow #america #blast #fair #flowers

The French want no-one to be their superior. The English want inferiors. The Frenchman constantly raises his eyes above him with anxiety. The Englishman lowers his beneath him with satisfaction. ↗

— Alexis de Tocqueville

#anxiety #beneath #constantly #english #englishman

Reading music is like listening to flowers. I don't understand the concept. ↗

— Paul Westerberg

#flowers #i #like #listening #music

Let a hundred flowers bloom. ↗

— Mao Zedong

#flowers #hundred

I abhor a hoe. I am fond of flowers but not of dirt, and had rather buy them than cultivate them. ↗

— Lyman Abbott

#am #buy #cultivate #dirt #flowers

An Evening Air I go out in the grey evening In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation. I go out into the hard loneliness of the barren field of grey evening In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation. In the gathering darkness a long, swift train suddenly Passes me like a lighting. Hard and ponderous and loud are the wheels. As ponderous as the darkness, and as beautiful. I look on, enchanted, and listen to the sounds of lamentation In the soft fragrant air. The long rails, grey-dark, smooth as a serpent, shiver, and A soft, low thing cries out in the distance, But the sounds are hard and heavy, In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation. ↗

— Samar Sen

#flowers #night #beauty