Paper Flowers Quotes

Paper flowers make just about any heart smile…and that- is the best gift of all! ~ Chantal Larocque

I remember one woman making paper flowers to sell, with different herbs ... She made them so fast, and so many ... that as I watched, her first few zinnias became quickly enough a few hundred, and grew in their happiness to the size of sunflowers. The sunflowers themselves grew to the size of pumpkins, the snapdragons grew ominous, and the rosemary fragrant. ~ Alberto Alvaro Rios

Non-Muslims in Saudi Arabia can only celebrate Valentine's Day behind closed doors. Apparently, this has led to a huge black market for flowers and wrapping paper. ~ John Niven

Below the bows of the Arrawa a child's coffin moved onto the night stream. Its paper flowers were shaken loose by the wash of a landing craft carrying sailors from the American cruiser. The flowers formed a wavering garland around the coffin as it began its long journey to the estuary of the Yangtze, only to be swept back by the incoming tide among the quays and mud flats, driven once again to the shores of this terrible city (279). ~ J.G. Ballard

The clothes I wear ... that doesn't change. I love long dresses. I love velvet. I love high boots. I never change. I love the same eye make-up. I'm not a fad person. I still have everything I had then. That's one part of me ... that's where my songs come from. There's a song on the new Fleetwood Mac album [Mirage] that says, 'Going back to the velvet underground/back to the floor that I love,' because I always put my bed on the floor. 'To a room with some lace and paper flowers/ back to the gypsy that I was.' ~ Stevie Nicks

Only paper flowers are afraid of the rain. ~ Mary Quant

Witches have animals they can talk to, called familiars. Like your toad there."

"I'm not familiar," said a voice from among the paper flowers. "I'm just slightly presumptuous. ~ Terry Pratchett

I always found the extraordinary loss of life in the First World War very moving. I remember learning about it as a very young child, as an eight- or nine-year-old, asking my teachers what poppies were for. Every year the teachers would suddenly wear these red paper flowers in their lapels, and I would say 'What does that mean?' ~ Tom Hiddleston

When you have a desperate love for God,' Father Micheal would say, 'the comforts of this world feel like paper flowers. They are easily put aside. If you really have God's love. ~ Ted Dekker

Read poetry every day of your life. Poetry is good because it flexes muscles you don't use often enough. Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand.
And, above all, poetry is compacted metaphor or simile. Such metaphors, like Japanese paper flowers, may expand outward into gigantic shapes. Ideas lie everywhere through the poetry books, yet how rarely have I heard short story teachers recommending them for browsing.
What poetry? Any poetry that makes your hair stand up along your arms. Don't force yourself too hard. Take it easy. Over the years you may catch up to, move even with, and pass T. S. Eliot on your way to other pastures. You say you don't understand Dylan Thomas? Yes, but your ganglion does, and your secret wits, and all your unborn children. Read him, as you can read a horse with your eyes, set free and charging over an endless green meadow on a windy day. ~ Ray Bradbury

Emery was kneeling outside "gardening" when Ceony and Langston stepped through the illusion that masked the paper magician's house. He had positioned himself outside the curving garden of meticulously crafted paper flowers, and seemed to be replacing all the red, tulip-shaped flower heads with blue, lily-shaped ones. Fennel chewed on the discarded spells as Emery worked, crumpling them in his paper mouth and then spitting the balls into an overturned trash receptacle. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

A magician came to entertain us, and I was mesmerized by his beautiful hands, his fluid, round gestures. I couldn't stop watching his hands. They were better than any of his tricks. He pulled a bouquet of paper flowers out of the air and gave them to me with a courtly bow, and I thought love was like that, pulled out of the air, something bright and unlikely. ~ Janet Fitch

Each memory is like a paper flower stowed up a magician's sleeve: invisible one moment and then so substantial and florid the next I cannot imagine how it stayed hidden all this time. And like those paper flowers, once they've been let loose in the world, the memories are impossible to tuck away again. ~ Jodi Picoult

I try not to change my political point of view from paper to paper. ~ Jonathan Shapiro

He wanted to scream at his parents, to hit them, to elicit from them something - some melting into grief, some loss of composure, some recognition that something large had happened, that in Hemming's death they had lost something vital and necessary to their lives. He didn't care if they really felt that way or not: he just needed them to say it, he needed to feel that something lay beneath their imperturbable calm, that somewhere within them ran a thin stream of quick, cool water, teeming with delicate lives, minnows and grasses and tiny white flowers, all tender and easily wounded and so vulnerable you couldn't see them without aching for them. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

There's an interdependence between flowers and bees. Where there are no flowers there are no bees, and where there are no bees, there are no flowers. They are really one organism. And so in the same way, everything in nature depends on everything else. ~ Alan Watts

The season developed and matured. Another year's instalment of flowers, leaves, nightingales, thrushes, finches, and such ephemeral creatures, took up their positions where only a year ago others had stood in their place when these were nothing more than germs and inorganic particles. Rays from the sunrise drew forth the buds and stretched them into long stalks, lifted up sap in noiseless streams, opened petals, and sucked out scents in invisible jets and breathings. ~ Thomas Hardy

When not only gold but all commodities are available for the redemption of the paper currency, its volume is limited only by the value of all the wealth of the country, and it can never become insecure up to this limit. ~ John Buchanan Robinson

I am probably exaggerating a little, but I owe my equilibrium to ink and paper. ~ Julien Green

Flowers, leaves, fruit, are the air-woven children of light. ~ Jacob Moleschott

I learned mainly through television, but I learned how to do mosaic, where you can buy stones or things of that nature. But also where you bust the tile to decorate pots for flowers or table tops. Lots of different things. Wherever you want it, you can mosaic just about anything. It took me about two weeks to do a big birdbath. ~ Barbara Mandrell

I enjoy looking at words on paper and visualizing how to make them come to life. As a director, the creative process is really amazing. ~ Alfonso Ribeiro

Fashion pictures show people looking glamorous. Travel pictures show a place looking at its best, nothing to do with the reality. In the cookery pages, the food always looks amazing, right? Most of the pictures we consume are propaganda. ~ Martin Parr

Down close to certain flowers
all excesses are sufficiencies ~ David Giannini

I stare at the water. He stares at me. I can feel his gaze burning into my face, and I shift my head again, smiling wryly.

"Let's hear it."

"Hear what?"

"Some more lies. You know, how last night was just you doing me a favor, you don't really want me, yada, yada." I wave my hand.

To my surprise, he laughs.

"Oh my God. Was that a laugh? Reed Royal laughs, folks. Someone call the Vatican because an honest-to-God miracle has occurred."

That gets me another chuckle. "You're so annoying," he grumbles.

"Yeah, but you still like me."

He goes quiet. I think he's going to stay that way, but then he curses under his breath and says, "Yeah, maybe I do."

I feign amazement. "Two miracles in one night? Is the world ending? ~ Erin Watt, Paper Princess

When we put the pen to paper, we articulate things in our life that we may have felt vague about. Before you write about something, somebody says, 'How do you feel?' and you say, 'Oh, I feel okay.' Then you write about it, and you discover you don't feel okay. ~ Julia Cameron

I don't write poems. I don't give flowers to girls ... yet. ~ Rico Rodriguez

When people see me struggling on paper, I think it invites an almost collaborative relationship with the outside world, and that includes readers and other artists. ~ Adrian Tomine

Make the financial industry pay for its mistakes. That's the idea behind the best of the Obama administration's reform proposals: If banks issue securities backed by mortgages, say, then require them to hold some of that paper so that they will bear some of the losses. ~ David Ignatius

Nash's lifelong quest for meaning, control, and recognition in the context of a continuing struggle, not just in society, but in the warring impulses of his paradoxical self, was now reduced to a caricature. Just as the overconcreteness of a dream is related to the intangible themes of waking life, Nash's search for a piece of paper, a carte d'identité, mirrored his former pursuit of mathematical insights. Yet the gulf between the two recognizably related Nashes was as great as that between Kafka, the controlling creative genius, struggling between the demands of his self-chosen vocation and ordinary life, and K, a caricature of Kafka, the helpless seeker of a piece of paper that will validate his existence, rights, and duties. Delusion is not just fantasy but compulsion. Survival, both of the self and the world, appears to be at stake. Where once he had ordered his thoughts and modulated them, he was now subject to their peremptory and insistent commands. ~ Sylvia Nasar

I had seen the flowers on her dress beside the canals in the north, she was indigenous like a herb, and I never wanted to go home. ~ Graham Greene

I loved my life in California, where it never snowed and the sun was always shining. Now, my favorite day of the year is when daylight savings begins. It's usually when the air starts to thaw and the only precipitation you can be threatened with is a little rain. You're tired in the morning because you've lost an hour of sleep. But by seven o'clock at night, the sun is still out. And it's warmer than it was yesterday at that time. It feels like the world is opening up, like the worst is over, and flowers are coming. They don't have that in Los Angeles. The flowers never leave. ~ Taylor Jenkins Reid

When I was little, I'd pick flowers wherever I traveled with my mom, then dry them, cover them with resin, and turn them into paperweights. ~ Ivanka Trump

Cordelia was thinking how human beings can invent words, how they can line up their invented words side by side on paper. It was magic. ~ Leonie Swann

The peach-bud glows, the wild bee hums, and wind-flowers wave in graceful gladness. ~ Lucy Larcom

Lecter sits in his armchair with a big pad of butcher paper doing calculations. The pages are filled with the symbols both of astrophysics and particle physics. There are repeated efforts with the symbols of string theory. The few mathematicians who could follow him might say his equations begin brilliantly and then decline, doomed by wishful thinking. Dr. Lecter wants time to reverse - no longer should increasing entropy mark the direction of time. He wants increasing order to point the way. ~ Thomas Harris

Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. ~ William Shakespeare

There were vases of silk roses carefully centered on crocheted doilies, figurines of puppies carrying roses in their mouths on lace doilies, and delicate rose-covered tea sets placed on paper doilies. And that was just the start of it. It all had a really old feel to it as well, like I'd been transported back to the 1890s.
Adrian stood behind us, just outside the door, and I was pretty sure I heard him mutter, Needs more rabbits. ~ Richelle Mead

And then last, but oh, so utterly
first, came George Eliot. It was in the days
when her cult was at its height - thank heaven
I never left her shrine! - and we used to wait
outside Macmillan's shop to seize the new
instalments of Daniel Deronda. She came
for a few minutes to my room, and I was
almost senseless with excitement. I had just
repapered my room with the newest thing in
dolorous Morris papers. Some one must have
called her attention to it, for I remember that
she said in her shy, impressive way, "Your
paper makes a beautiful background for your
face." The ecstasy was too much, and I
knew no more. ~ Jane Ellen Harrison

I'm tired," I said. My voice shook as I tried to restrain my tears. "I'm tired of all of it. The running, the paranoia, being scared all the time, and the sleepless nights. I want a normal life. Is that too much to ask?"
"No, it's not. More than anyone, I believe you deserve it. The friends, the family - the house with a white picket fence, if you want it - you should have all of it."
I shook my head. "I am not talking about those things. I just want to live without fear, love without consequence, and not be blamed for the actions of my past in my future. I want to experience being me. ~ Loni Flowers

The crushed flowers and
The scented letters
Hidden between the pages,
I hide them under the pillows,
I take them on a trip,
Sometimes, they lay in the cupboards

The broken flowers still glow,
The perfumed letters can
Give the peace to my soul. ~ Jyoti Patel

I recognize that on paper, you can't really tell that I'm a fan or a nerd. ~ Lev Grossman

To get the idea that you are the center," Oliveira thought, resting more comfortably on the board. "But it's incalculably stupid. A center as illusory as it would be to try to find ubiquity. There is no center, there's a kind of continuous confluence, an undulation of matter. All through the night I'm a motionless body, and on the other side of town a roll of newsprint is being converted into the morning paper, and at eight-forty I will leave the house and at eight-twenty the paper will have arrived at the newsstand on the corner, and at eight forty-five my hand and the newspaper will come together and begin to move together through the air, three feet from the ground, heading towards the streetcar stop. ~ Julio Cortazar

The Old Woman asked, "Here you are, dear Youth, you are looking at the Garden and do not know that it is an evil Garden. Here you are waiting for the Beautiful Woman and do not know that her beauty is destructive. You have been living in my room for two years and never before have you become so engrossed as you have today. Apparently your turn has come too. Go away from the window before it is too late, do not breathe the evil fragrance of these deceitful flowers and do not wait for the Beautiful Woman to appear below your window and enchant you. She will come, she will enchant you, and you will follow her against your will.

Speaking thus, the Old Woman lit two candles on the table where some books were lying, banged the window shut and drew the curtain tightly across the window. The curtain rings scraped lightly along the bronze curtain rod, and the yellow linen of the curtain fluttered and once again lay motionless - and the room became cheerful, comfortable and peaceful. And it seemed that there was no longer any garden beyond the window, nor was there any sorcery in the world, and everything was simple, ordinary, and would remain so once and for all.

("The Poison Garden") ~ Valery Bryusov

Moths and butterflies are not the same thing. Moths sneak around in the dark munching your sweater and are ugly. Butterflies hand out with flowers in the daytime and are pretty. Never mind any facts or what silkworm moths are responsible for, or what poisonous butterflies do. ~ Robert Fulghum

When there is this simple, clear watching and listening, then there is an awareness - awareness of the colour of those flowers, red, yellow, white, of the spring leaves, the stems, so tender, so delicate, awareness of the heavens, the earth and those people who are passing by. They have been chattering along that long road, never looking at the trees, at the flowers, at the skies and the marvellous hills. They are not even aware of what is going on around them. They talk a great deal about the environment, how we must protect nature and so on, but it seems they are not aware of the beauty and the silence of the hills and the dignity of a marvellous old tree. They are not even aware of their own thoughts, their own reactions, nor are they aware of the way they walk, of their clothes. It does not mean that they are to be selfcentred in their watching, in their awareness, but just be aware. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Many facilities use a written request process, but some settings now use a verbal voicemail or a kiosk system for requests. Whatever system is used, it should be confidential and only accessible by health care staff. In the simple paper request system, a locked dropbox is often available on every housing unit. Inmates obtain request slips from the housing officer, complete the information and submit to the dropbox where health care staff pick up requests on daily rounds. Access ~ Lorry Schoenly

I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else. ~ George Bernard Shaw

I worked on local papers, before taking a job as a webmaster with a very well known telecommunications company in London, as I thought the internet was the future. ~ Neil Oliver