Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Lilac. 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 Lilac Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including Edwin Arnold,Rick Riordan,Alice Hoffman,J.r. Ward,E. Nesbit for you to enjoy and share.
Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us.
Rainbows. Very Macho! ~Leo Valdez
And from then on whenever he smells lilacs he'll think about this moment. How the bees were circling above him, how purple the ink on the leaflets he's been distributing suddenly seemed, how he realized, all at once, just how beautiful a woman can be.
Fucking lilacs. I'm the only immortal with allergies. I swear.' - Eddie, Crave
A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.
Lilah stood above them, tall and beautiful, her white hair whipping in the fresh breeze, her clothes streaked with gore, her hazel eyes glowing with fire.
She turned slowly to Nix and in her ghostly whisper of a voice said, I hate boys.
The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.
Beneath the apple blossoms
I go a wintry way,
For love that smiled in April
Is false to me in May.
Dappled sunshine shivers.
Hyacinth. Please forgive me.
I myself am quite absorbed by the delicate yellow, delicate soft green, delicate violet of a ploughed and weeded piece of soil.
Snow is bruised lilac in half-lite: such pure solace. You speak like an aesthete sometimes, Sonmi. Perhaps those deprived of beauty perceive it most instinctively. So
Orange, Longbottom.
O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.
You were red,
and you liked me because I was blue,
but you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky,
and you decided purple just wasn't for you.
The Color Of Extraordinary.
Her bluebird of happiness is teal.
I love the smell of pastels...that breaths life into my soul.
the awfulness of love and violets
I pray, what flowers are these? The pansy this, O, that's for lover's thoughts.
Fun! You think I have just been having fun with you? I am insane in love with you, Lilah! I have been since the first night. Remember the night I carried you all the way home, just so you could not meet anyone else before I had the chance to make you mine?
I had not thought of violets of late,
The wild, shy kind that springs beneath you feet
In wistful April days.
The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air like wisps of the past and hints of the future.
You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known, Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own - What are you when the rose is blown?
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
Is there really a lilac bush?"
"Hell yes, there is. I nearly killed it when I fell off the roof and landed in the middle of it, but it was tougher than it looked. Kind of like another Lilac I know.
A rhododendron bud lavender-tipped. Soon a glory of blooms to clash with the cardinals and gladden the hummingbirds!
I made wine from the lilac tree/Put my heart in its recipe/It makes me see what I want to see/And be what I want to be
Blue!' she exclaimed. 'Violet blue. What are they made of?' 'Summer skies,' I said, 'and plums and figs, and the grape-blood of emperors.' 'No,
Rainbows, very macho -Leo
In pale moonlight / the wisteria's scent / comes from far away.
I do love violets; they tell the history of woman's love.
What child has ever known the country and has not twined hundreds of fragrant wreaths with the yellow shining cowslip and the more frail and delicate violet - mingling here and there green leaves culled from the odorous eglantine, or, as we more commonly call it, sweetbriar.
Of the authors' imagination and used fictitiously. Emerald Green Desiree Holt
That which above all other yields the sweetest smell in the air is the violet.
A purple African violet so lush and fleshy it looked edible ... his fingers as cool and smooth as beach stones.
Violet is the most soothing, tranquilizing and cooling color vibration. It encourages the healing of unbalanced mental conditions in people who are overly nervous or high-strung. Foods of the violet vibration are: purple broccoli, beetroot and purple grapes.
Sometimes I struggle. Sometimes I falter. Sometimes I live in gray. But always I remember the yarrow you've grown in the spaces of my rib cage. I now love with roses from my heart, with lilacs from my mouth.
Rose! Thou art the sweetest flower that ever drank the amber shower:
Even the Gods, who walk the sky, are amourous of thy scented sigh.
It was a clear, apple-green
'My Life' is soft, with notes of pear and gardenia, but still bold, with a woody base.
Bright cut flowers, leaves of green, bring about what I have seen
Think pink but don't wear it
Lord Henry went out to the garden and found Dorian Gray burying his face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in their perfume as if it had been wine.
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd / And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, / I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
The grape Hyacinth is the favorite spring flower of my garden - but no! I though a minute ago the Scilla was! and what place has the Violet? the Flower de Luce? I cannot decide, but this I know - it is some blue flower.
Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.
Pale purple as the bloom om a ripe plum, veined with the gold of late flowering gorse, set with small slender birches,just turning yellow,with red-berried rowans and thicket of bracken, the heath lay steeped in sunshine.
Of late the nights
are dawning
plum-blossom white.
My own ultraviolet darling. " Lolita
The chestnut's proud, and the lilac's pretty, The poplar's gentle and tall, But the plane tree's kind to the poor dull city - I love him best of all.
Daisy, simple and discreet flower,
That earned the heart of this poet.
And in my flower-beds,
I think,
Smile the carnation
and the pink.
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
Purple irises from a bucket on Market Street. The
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
She had brillant red hair, like honey and roses and the sun all together.
I prefer prickly roses.
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs, where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburmum on his birthday,-
The tree is living yet.
Hot pink with a star done in rainbow rhinestones on the front. It was god-awful.
I bought it.
Humid the air! Leafless, yet soft as spring. The tender purple spray on copse and briers! And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, she needs not June for beauty's heightening. Lovely all the time she lies ...
Sweet-briar and southern-wood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is - I know it well - it is Mr. Rochester's cigar.
cherry red
denim torn
holding close
the smell of warm
What color are your panties?
The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower - suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day, and now I place them here in memory of something that has died.
Who are the violets now
That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
(The raindrops) played across the coast all through the night, until the soft new day shrugged itself awake, tried on amethyst and lavender for a while, and finally decided on pale yellow.
What color is it today?
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us.
Soft as the early morning breeze of May,
which heralds dawn, rich with the grass and flowers,
spreading in waves their breathing fragrances,
I felt a breeze strike soft upon my brow:
I felt a wing caress it, I am sure,
I sensed the sweetness of ambrosia.
Lavender's blue,
Rosemary's green,
When you are king,
I shall be queen
That translucent alabaster of our memories.
Loveliest of any blossoming thing to her was that green stalk with its white bells. White was the most beautiful color she knew. Yet when she would say that to Amos he would remind her that the brown of the earth from which the flowers came was a good color too.
The torchlit garden was redolent with the colors and scents of autumn... gold and copper foliage, thick borders of roses and dahlias, flowering grasses and beds of fresh mulch that made the air pleasantly pungent.
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.
Wild rose-bush, covered, in this month of June, with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty to the prisoner as he went in, and to the condemned criminal as he came forth to his doom, in token that the deep heart of Nature could pity and be kind to him.
Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain
Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street
This dramatic, hearty flower with its deep maroon made me so happy. I was so in love with its color, and it taught me that beauty could live in a seedy area. Not only live but also be strong!
I pressed past the outer branches of the lilacs and found a small and relatively open space in the middle. Then I waited.
Others said May was best, that sweet green time when lilacs bloomed and gardens along Main Street were filled with sugary pink peonies and Dutch tulips.
It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.
May you love blossom like a lily.
I have sat here happy in the gardens, Watching the still pool and the reeds And the dark clouds ... But though I greatly delight In these and the water lilies, That which sets me nighest to weeping Is the rose and white colour of the smooth flag-stones, And the pale yellow grasses Among them.
A great acacia, with its slender trunk
And overpoise of multitudinous leaves.
(In which a hundred fields might spill their dew
And intense verdure, yet find room enough)
Stood reconciling all the place with green.
Baobab. Away in the distance I could see the cloud-softened
I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow.
The spring is fresh and fearless
And every leaf is new,
The world is brimmed with moonlight,
The lilac brimmed with dew.
Here in the moving shadows
I catch my breath and sing -
My heart is fresh and fearless
And over-brimmed with spring.
There were moments when Lila wondered how the hell she'd gotten here. Which steps - and missteps - she'd taken. A year ago she'd been a thief in another London. A month ago she'd been a pirate, sailing on the open seas. A week ago she'd been a magician in the Essen Tasch. And now she was this.
When I came to you out of all that dust and heat and toil, I positively smelt violets at once. But not the sweet violet - you know, that early dark violet that smells of melting snow and spring grass.
The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.
It was a wonderful flower, indeed. She had never seen its like before. It was not just one color, or two, but four: ebony, silver, snow white and purple, all at once.
The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows ...
O spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise / In the young children's eyes. / But I have learnt the years, and know the yet / Leaf-folded violet.
blooms in second chances.
Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.
I'm more of a thistle-peony-basil kind of girl.
If someone asked you what color the sky is, what would you say?
O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men.
Beautiful flowers that are not anxious about tomorrow but live with ease in the timeless Now
The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,
It wavers to a rose.
Can anything compare to the sight of the first yellow violets blooming along a woodland path? These most fragile of plants are yet hardy enough to bloom when nights are still frosty and snow still lingers in the ravines.