You May Also Like / View all maxioms
I hate flowers -- I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.
I hate flowers -- I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.
I know not which I love the most,
Nor which the comeliest shows,
The timid, bashful violet
read more
I know not which I love the most,
Nor which the comeliest shows,
The timid, bashful violet
Or the royal-hearted rose:
The pansy in purple dress,
The pink with cheek of red,
Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs,
Like a bashful maid her head.
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks,
Held out in the smoke, like stars by day.
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks,
Held out in the smoke, like stars by day.
Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a read more
Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men and
animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some
are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and
upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock.
Who that has loved knows not the tender tale
Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?
read more
Who that has loved knows not the tender tale
Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell?
- Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, first Baron Lytton,
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
read more
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,--
And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close;
Her tears, to the wind-flower,--his blood, to the rose.
Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the read more
Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
The milkwhite is the slae.
I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a read more
I am following Nature without being able to grasp her . . . . I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.
Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.