Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Crocuses. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Crocuses Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including T. S. Eliot,Robert A. Heinlein,Ralph Waldo Emerson,Leylah Attar,Anne Sexton for you to enjoy and share.
Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
Tightening its lusts and luxuries.
Have you ever noticed how much they look like orchids? lovely!
Flowers are the earth laughing.
I prefer prickly roses.
Jewels! Today each twig is important,
each ring, each infection, each form
is all that the gods must have meant.
In spring they lie flat at the first warmth, they ruin my summer and in autumn they smell of women.
Love not the flower they pluck and know it not, And all their botany is Latin names.
The skeletons of the plants are for me as important as the flowers.
I can't imagine a more aesthetically offensive item of footwear than Crocs. That little strap! I shudder.
... I know Crocs are affordable. Well, so are Converse and lots of other brands that don't look like hooves.
When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest.
(Carnations) The only flower that, when given to someone, is marginally superior to dead ones.
If there was a crayon, and I was to put a label on it, I would call it dinosaur skin.
-So B. It
Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season
Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors,
Which some call nature's bastards.
I'm not a big scatology fan, unlike my sons, who can amuse themselves for an entire afternoon by repeating the phrase 'crocodile fart.' So I'll spare you from an overabundance of detail in this chapter. This chapter will be somewhat soft focus, like the TV camera in a Barbra Streisand interview.
Crawfish have ding dongs and vaginas.
So great is the economy of Nature, that most flowers which are fertilized by crepuscular or nocturnal insects emit their odor chiefly or exculsively in the evening.
They passed a bed of opium poppies, dispetaled now; the round, ripe seedheads were brown and dry - like Polynesian trophies, Denis thought; severed heads stuck on poles.
morsels of tesselated pavement from Herculaneum and Pompeii, like petrified minced veal;
Flowers are born, and they wither ...
The tulips have found me out.
I pray, what flowers are these? The pansy this, O, that's for lover's thoughts.
Even the tiniest of flowers can have the toughest roots.
If a beautiful sunflower is somehow supposed to be evidence of the Christian god, then what is a parasitic worm that eats children's eyeballs evidence of?
When these suckers had formed roots in the open ground, or kind of nursery where they were planted, they were looked over and the best taken up for potting.
The only difference between lilies and turds is whatever difference humans have agreed upon; and I don't always agree.
The wild daisies and Indian paintbrush whizzing past are just the genitals of a different life form
When cultivating your garden, keep the soil healthy with encroachers. The most redolent flowers grow over graves.
Botany is the art of insulting flowers in Greek and Latin.
Leaves. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of them, brown and yellow and red and orange, in bright piles on the concrete floor. Some were so high they almost covered the rosebushes.
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
The autumn breeze rises on the shore at Fukiage- and those white chrysanthemums are they flowers? or not? or only breakers on the beach?
A rubber plant is just about the ideal family.
Jezreel, God plants!
Whoops there goes another rubber tree plant.
How do you eat your roots?
Red ants that had a sour farty smell when they were squashed.
The cherries' only fault: the crowds that gather when they bloom
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
Bright cut flowers, leaves of green, bring about what I have seen
The earth laughs in flowers.
The first pale blossom of the unripened year.
Crito we owe a rooster to Aesculapius
Those aren't from my mother's garden, are they? She'll throttle you."
"No," he said, making a grand show of looking insulted. "I would never."
"Sorry," she said with a cringe.
"They're from your neighbor's garden, actually.
I never thought much about flowers until I made the close acquaintance of a man who knew all about them. You would have thought that the butterflies and flowers were friends of his. 'See how richly they are clad,' he said. 'Even King Solomon did not have such raiment.
I finished grating a root and dropped the stub into a jar on the desk. Bloodroot is aptly named; the scientific name is Sanguinaria, and the juice is red, acrid, and sticky. The bowl in my lap was full of oozy, moist shavings, and my hands looked as though I had been disemboweling small animals.
Our backs hut from gathering them: how hard they were to find among the concealing leaves, the frosted deceiving grass.
Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.
On the motionless branches of some trees, autumn berries hung like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchards where the fruits were jewels ...
Goats and monkies!
Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
Nature is a tropical swamp in sunshine, on whose purlieus we hear the song of summer birds, and see prismatic dewdrops, - but her interiors are terrific, full of hydras and crocodiles.
Mums the Word [10w]
Chrysanthemum died to atone for our sins in the garden.
The King sat down and I noticed that a brood of small transparent roots grew from the soles of his feet. 'Yes, I am also errant. My roots can find no soil and this is why they are visible.
Nature's old felicities.
I equate peonies with love because they're the first blooms of summer.
When the first blooms came they were like the single big flower Oriental prostitutes wear on the sides of their heads ... But when the hemispheres of blossom appear in crowds they remind him of nothing so much as hats worn by cheap girls to church on Easter.
In my garden
the winds have beaten
the ripe lilies;
in my garden, the salt
has wilted the first flakes
of young narcissus.
Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soil, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips.
CRAYFISH, n. A small crustacean very much resembling the lobster, but less indigestible.
Cat piss and porcupines!
Go fuck a cactus, classless cunt.
Cabbages, whose heads, tightly folded see and hear nothing of this world, dreaming only on the yellow and green magnificence that is hardening within them.
That the clematis are climbing the wall
When Marcus Crassus had constructed a ditch around the forces of Spartacus, the latter at night filled it with the boddies of prisoners and cattle that he had slain, and thus marched across it.
One never ought to listen to the flowers. One should simply look at them and breathe their fragrance. Mine perfumed all my planet. But I did not know how to take pleasure in all her grace. This tale of claws, which disturbed me so much, should only have filled my heart with tenderness and pity.
Ancient charmers with skeleton throats and peachy cheeks that have a rather ghastly bloom upon them seen by daylight, when indeed these fascinating creatures look like Death and the Lady fused together, dazzle the eyes of men. Forth
Good garden of peas!
- Nothing. Although they are flowers you did not count on, they are still part of the garden.
From little seeds great flowers grow.
What is the pattern that connects the crab to the lobster and the primrose to the orchid, and all of them to me, and me to you?
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
Cranberry cock-tail for me, you dirty carpet-muncher.
Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!
A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest.
Fair fresh leaves, and buds - and buds - tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air.
Lovely flowers have been known to grow out of trash heaps.
Roses are the fast food of flowers.
Ragweed,wild oat,vetch,butcher grass,invaginate volunteer beans,all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand <>ong>onong> your cheek ...
A freakish homunculus germinated outside of lawful procreation.
Only bugs can truly appreciate the beauty of flowers.
studying some fronds
Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
When I was a kid, I collected cactuses. I had hundreds of different kinds in my room. I was a weird child. Everyone was playing football, and I was collecting cactuses. I spent all my money on them. I had so many colors and shapes. I even gave them names.
Flamingo necks, peacock brains, pike livers, lark tongues, sow's udders, elephant trunks and ears extravagantly frilled with parsley.
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
What is this?"
"Plankton, basically," Henry says. "A plant. A bio luminescent plankton called dinoflagellates."
Oh, Henry. He's so romantic.
SCORPIUS: Always.
The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower
What are men compared to rocks and trees?
Gardeners instinctively know that flowers and plants are a continuum and that the wheel of garden history will always be coming full circle.
I rose from marsh mud
algae, equisetum, willows,
sweet green, noisy
birds and frogs.
Stones were eternal-flowers were not
Certain plants, like certain friends, you enjoy having for a visit but do not care to see remain forever and a day.
These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.
Primroses, the Spring may love them; Summer knows but little of them.
Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
Lice consume grass, rust consumes iron, and lying the soul!
...a cyclamen that looks like a flight of butterflies, frozen for a single, exquisite moment in the white heart of Time...
You pluck flower after flower - it is never the flower. The flower itself - its calyx is a horrible gulf, it is the bottomless pit.
We sow the seed of deadly nightshade and wish it to bear lilies and roses!