Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Seedy. 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 Seedy Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Nelly,Lauren Francis-Sharma,Dada Bhagwan,Victor Pelevin,Stacey Jay for you to enjoy and share.
Proceed to not smoke weed around the seed.
Don't pretend like you know me 'cause you shook some neighborhood tree and got a li'l rotten fruit.
Things of the world are not in a 'seed' form; they are in a form of a 'fruit'. One has come with a ready farm; all he has to do is harvest the fruits now.
Any seed, that fell into Russian soil, does not give the fruit sower hoped for.
Smells like homeless man's crotch. Not that I've ever been up close and personal with a homeless man's crotch, but ...
I felt, if not outright dirty, at least a bit - dusty.
A weed is a plant out of place.
A splendour of miscellaneous spirits.
Are you green and growing or ripe and rotting?
The ground's soft with pine needles and the occasional crunch of a cone. The air smells like it's just been born.
The cold is waiting to ooze through the soles of your shoes. Maggot-damp, this city is festering: home to hollow faces of grey flesh. They stare from windows unclean, into the sun never reaches: dismal lives lived in dismal constriction.
life is like weeds
Throw dirt on me, and grow a wild flower
To see things in the seed, that is genius.
And he thought: I'm a seed.
He suddenly saw how fertile was the ground into which he had fallen, and with this realization, the terrible purpose filled him, creeping through the empty places within, threatening to choke him with grief.
Grass is hard and lumpy and damp, and full of dreadful black insects.
The blood of the Christians is seed
What selfish seeds I plant along the way, black harvest today.
The blood of Christians is seed.
Holey? You have the the whole world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?
How can someone who has no mouth filter and kills with more glee than I thought humanly possible also coo over seedlings?" "Because they're my babies. And mamas love their babies.
Arty. To me the word's got as much venom associated with it as 'wacky'.
To understand the phenomenon of a bad seed is to recognize that we could be someone else's bad seed.
The world contained in a seed, Determined by its program.
People are like vegetables with armpits.
Gardening is not a rational act.
Alas for the seed of man.
Now seeds are just dimes to the man in the store And the dimes are the things that he needs, And I've been to buy them in seasons before But have thought of them merely as seeds; But it flashed through my mind as I took them this time, "You purchased a miracle here for a dime."
How lucious lies the pea within the pod.
abysmally beshitted.
We pulled the seeds out and scattered them on their flossy parachutes, leaving only the leathery brownish yellow tongue, soft as the inside of an elbow.
The soil says, don't bring me your need, bring me your seed.
expelled from the garden.
Anything that you have is seed that God has given you.
Bad weeds grow in bunches.
A seed of hope caught a taste of moisture. Some wishful kernel buried deep, where he was loathe to acknowledge it lest it poison or choke him, began to sprout.
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.
The "germ," wherever gathered, has ever been for me, "the germ of a story," and most of the stories strained to shape under my hand have sprung from a single small seed, a seed as remote and windblown as a casual hint.
A custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fume thereof nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.
The wind and the rain, gives this place a gleam that just isn't natural. And the ground, alive with crawling things, crawling death.
that's as nutty as squirrel turds
Shall I not rejoice also at the abundance of the weeds whose seeds are the granary of the birds?
Spooky wild and gusty; swirling dervishes of rattling leaves race by, fleeing the windflung deadwood that cracks and thumps behind.
You have to be careful what seeds you sow on dirt where your roots have not yet touched the bedrock.
All law is writ in a seed.
I've had my fill of these city guttersnipes
all that scavenging scum! They're the sort of people, who, if the gates of heaven opened to them, all they'd feel would be a draught.
This stinks like a roadkill skunk.
The seed is a household object but at the same time it is a revolutionary symbol.
A seed doesn't stay beneath the soil, too afraid to grow. It journeys upwards boldly, for that is all it knows.
As the seed buried in the earth cannot imagine itself as an orchid or hyacinth, neither can a heart packed with hurt imagine itself loved or at peace. The courage of the seed is that once cracking, it cracks all the way.
My feet aren't seeds so I see no reason to plant them.
The blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the God of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and in short you are for ever floored.
It is one of those invaluable seeds, from which, since it is impossible to have every experience fully, one can grow something that represents other people's experiences. Often one has to make do with seeds; the germs of what might have been, had one's life been different.
If you don't like the crop you are reaping, check the seed you are sowing.
Worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits.
Seedsmen reckon that their stock in trade is not seeds at all ... it's optimism.
Friends , the soil is poor, we must sow seeds in plenty for us to garner even modest harvests .
In my garden I pick a musk melon feeling like a thief
A seed is really something spiritual as much as it is something material. It contains a life spark that allows the regenerative process to happen. We need seeds because they are the physical manifestation of that concept that we call hope.
It smells green, the way a leaf does when you tear it in half.
Boogey boogey boogey
...the unmistakable smell of poverty, a mixture of cigarette smoke, weed, stale sweat, and fried food.
The bodies draped down through the leaves like rancid baubles in the locks of a horrible harlot.
Do I Stank or was it already Stanky in Here?
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 ...
Private and primitive and a bit on the funky and frightening
A very scurvy fellow.
Ragweed,wild oat,vetch,butcher grass,invaginate volunteer beans,all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand on your cheek ...
They kind of look like evil lawn gnomes
I scuff the toe of my boot through the dirt, uncovering pine needles and half-rotted leaves shed by the cottonwood looming over me. My dirt, I think. My land.
Look around for a place to sow a few seeds.
I never know when the seeds are being laid, I'm just like, "Wow, that's a pretty cool scene. Is that? Are we laying seeds here?"
Deep in your wounds are seeds,
waiting to grow beautiful flowers.
It was a musty sweet smell. "Is this plague city?
We're in a world where everything, even a lamp-post, comes to life and grows. Now I wonder what kind of a seed a lamp-post grows from ...
We have been living through a time of sorrow. Our seed remains seed. Our nostrils are dusty.
A seed, after all, is an embryo, a potential plant waiting for its moment to grow. It has what it needs to begin. But it can also put itself on pause. It can wait.
Don't sprout where you haven't been planted.
Don't just throw the seed at the people! Grind it into flour, bake it into bread, and slice it for them. And it wouldn't hurt to put a little honey on it
A vague soil spread and ready from which friendships would spring.
garden. I have been defeated,
The only seed that needs regular watering is our imagination.
Exaggerated sunsets / splashed with rain, odd collisions / of roots, animals, seeds. / I didn't like a thing I saw, / so much effort to be strange.
It was so dark, it was almost black and it melted on her tongue into an ancient flavor of seed pod, earth, shade, and sunlight, its bitterness casting just a shadow of sweet. It tasted ... fine, so subtle and strange it made her feel like a novitiate into some arcanum of spice.
You are the most sleepiest man I ever seed.
In every gardener there is a child who believes in The Seed Fairy.
I'm a cotton-headed ninny muggins.
It is not a fragrant world.
The place smelled of mildew and rot. What
You like orchids? ... Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption.
Just like an alley in New York -like every alley in the world, apparently- it smelled like cat pee.
What a night, I'm telling you. Odious. Odious with cherries on top.
You smell of cheap cigarettes and dirty sex.
Dirt is chaos, gritty, full of bugs and decay, but from that dirt comes such immense beauty. Roses, tulips, tomatoes, peonies, raspberries, oranges, magnolias...and even me.
Sequoia seeds have flat wings, and glint and glance in their flight like a boy's kite.
But there was something I liked about the idea of those seeds buried so deep having at least a chance to emerge
Green are the leaves I leave in Mirkwood.
The neighborhood is pretty rough." I rubbed the hair on the back of my neck feeling a little ashamed about that. We tried to keep it as clean as we could but we weren't saints.
"I'm starting to gather that. Thanks, Clay. Night."
"Night."
"You got it bad man.
I planted a seed of hatred in my heart. I swore it would grow to be a massive tree whose roots would strangle them all.
In the immortal words of Mr. Burns ... eeeeexcellent.