Water Quotes

What is a waterto all of us? It’s not only H2O but it’s just a life. Water is life’s mater and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.

Water is the driver of Nature.
– Leonardo da Vinci

We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.
– Jacques Cousteau

A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.
– Laura Gilpin – From The Rio Grande, 1949

If you gave me several million years, there would be nothing that did not grow in beauty
if it were surrounded by water.
– Jan Erik Vold, What All The World Knows, 1970

Water, thou hast no taste, no color, no odor; canst not be defined, art relished while ever
mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself, thou fillest us with a
gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses.
– Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900-1944), Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939

Water is the one substance from which the earth can conceal nothing; it sucks out its
innermost secrets and brings them to our very lips.
– Jean Giraudoux (1882-1944), The Madwomen of Chaillot, 1946

When the well’s dry, we know the worth of water.
– Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), Poor Richard’s Almanac, 1746

High quality water is more than the dream of the conservationists, more than a political
slogan; high quality water, in the right quantity at the right place at the right time,
is essential to health, recreation, and economic growth. Of all our planet’s
activities–geological movements, the reproduction and decay of biota, and even the
disruptive propensities of certain species (elephants and humans come to mind) — no force
is greater than the hydrologic cycle.
– Richard Bangs and Christian Kallen, Rivergods, 1985

Between earth and earth’s atmosphere, the amount of water remains constant; there is never
a drop more, never a drop less.
This is a story of circular infinity, of a planet birthing itself.
– Linda Hogan, “Northern Lights,” Autumn 1990

Filthy water cannot be washed.
– West African Proverb

If you could tomorrow morning make water clean in the world, you would have done, in one
fell swoop, the best thing you could have done for improving human health by improving
environmental quality.
– William C. Clark, speech, Racine, Wisconsin, April 1988

In every glass of water we drink, some of the water has already passed through fishes,
trees, bacteria, worms in the soil, and many other organisms, including people. . .
Living systems cleanse water and make it fit, among other things, for human consumption.
– Elliot A. Norse, in R.J. Hoage, ed., Animal Extinctions, 1985

Estuaries are a happy land, rich in the continent itself, stirred by the forces of nature
like the soup of a French chef; the home of myriad forms of life from bacteria and
protozoans to grasses and mammals; the nursery, resting place, and refuge of
countless things.
– Stanely A. Cain, speech, 1966

Life originated in the sea, and about eighty percent of it is still there.
– Isaac Aasimov, Isaac Asimov’s Book of Science and Nature Quotations, 1988

The oceans are the planet’s last great living wilderness, man’s only remaining frontier on
earth, and perhaps his last chance to produce himself a rational species.
– John L. Cullney, “Wilderness Conservation,” September-October 1990

The marsh, to him who enters it in a receptive mood, holds, besides mosquitoes and
stagnation, melody, the mystery of unknown waters, and the sweetness of Nature undisturbed
by man.
– Charles William Beebe (1877-1962), Log of the Sun, 1906

Wetlands have a poor public image. . . Yet they are among the earth’s greatest natural
assets. . . mankind’s waterlogged wealth.
– Edward Maltby, Waterlogged Wealth, 1986

Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and
cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever
is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.
– Lao-Tzu (600 B.C.)

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
– Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 1798

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J.G.Ballard. What I Believe

I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.

I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash, in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks, in the poetry of abandoned hotels.

I believe in the forgotten runways of Wake Island, pointing towards the Pacifics of our imaginations.

I believe in the mysterious beauty of Margaret Thatcher, in the arch of her nostrils and the sheen on her lower lip; in the melancholy of wounded Argentine conscripts; in the haunted smiles of filling station personnel; in my dream of Margaret Thatcher caressed by that young Argentine soldier in a forgotten motel watched by a tubercular filling station attendant.

I believe in the beauty of all women, in the treachery of their imaginations, so close to my heart; in the junction of their disenchanted bodies with the enchanted chromium rails of supermarket counters; in their warm tolerance of my perversions.

I believe in the death of tomorrow, in the exhaustion of time, in our search for a new time within the smiles of auto-route waitresses and the tired eyes of air-traffic controllers at out-of-season airports.

I believe in the genital organs of great men and women, in the body postures of Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and Princess Di, in the sweet odors emanating from their lips as they regard the cameras of the entire world.

I believe in madness, in the truth of the inexplicable, in the common sense of stones, in the lunacy of flowers, in the disease stored up for the human race by the Apollo astronauts.

I believe in nothing.

I believe in Max Ernst, Delvaux, Dali, Titian, Goya, Leonardo, Vermeer, Chirico, Magritte, Redon, Duerer, Tanguy, the Facteur Cheval, the Watts Towers, Boecklin, Francis Bacon, and all the invisible artists within the psychiatric institutions of the planet.

I believe in the impossibility of existence, in the humour of mountains, in the absurdity of electromagnetism, in the farce of geometry, in the cruelty of arithmetic, in the murderous intent of logic.

I believe in adolescent women, in their corruption by their own leg stances, in the purity of their disheveled bodies, in the traces of their pudenda left in the bathrooms of shabby motels.

I believe in flight, in the beauty of the wing, and in the beauty of everything that has ever flown, in the stone thrown by a small child that carries with it the wisdom of statesmen and midwives.

I believe in the gentleness of the surgeon’s knife, in the limitless geometry of the cinema screen, in the hidden universe within supermarkets, in the loneliness of the sun, in the garrulousness of planets, in the repetitiveness or ourselves, in the inexistence of the universe and the boredom of the atom.

I believe in the light cast by video-recorders in department store windows, in the messianic insights of the radiator grilles of showroom automobiles, in the elegance of the oil stains on the engine nacelles of 747s parked on airport tarmacs.

I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.

I believe in the derangement of the senses: in Rimbaud, William Burroughs, Huysmans, Genet, Celine, Swift, Defoe, Carroll, Coleridge, Kafka.

I believe in the designers of the Pyramids, the Empire State Building, the Berlin Fuehrerbunker, the Wake Island runways.

I believe in the body odors of Princess Di.

I believe in the next five minutes.
J. G. Ballard. I believe

I believe in the history of my feet.

I believe in migraines, the boredom of afternoons, the fear of calendars, the treachery of clocks.

I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.

I believe in the perversions, in the infatuations with trees, princesses, prime ministers, derelict filling stations (more beautiful than the Taj Mahal), clouds and birds.

I believe in the death of the emotions and the triumph of the imagination.

I believe in Tokyo, Benidorm, La Grande Motte, Wake Island, Eniwetok, Dealey Plaza.

I believe in alcoholism, venereal disease, fever and exhaustion.

I believe in pain.

I believe in despair.

I believe in all children.

I believe in maps, diagrams, codes, chess-games, puzzles, airline timetables, airport indicator signs.

I believe all excuses.

I believe all reasons.

I believe all hallucinations.

I believe all anger.

I believe all mythologies, memories, lies, fantasies, evasions.

I believe in the mystery and melancholy of a hand, in the kindness of trees, in the wisdom of light.

J.G.Ballard, 1984

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Leonard Cohen

“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.”

“The last refuge of the insomniac is a sense of superiority to the sleeping world.”

Leonard Cohen favorite music

“When you’ve fallen on the highway
and you’re lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you’re doing
of course you’ll say you can’t complain —
If you’re squeezed for information,
that’s when you’ve got to play it dumb:
You just say you’re out there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.”
(Waiting for the Miracle)

“And I’ll dance with you in Vienna,
I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise.
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
my mouth on the dew of your thighs.
And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.
And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty,
my cheap violin and my cross.”
(Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs)

“Here’s to the few who forgive what you do, and the fewer who don’t even care”

“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”
(The Favorite Game)

“As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder. ”
(The Favorite Game)

“Avoid the flourish. Do not be afraid to be weak. Do not be ashamed to be tired. You look good when you’re tired. You look like you could go on forever. Now come into my arms. You are the image of my beauty .”

“… i didn’t fall in love of course
it’s never up to you
but she was walking back and forth
and i was passing through”
(Book of Longing)

“I don’t consider myself a pessimist. I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain. And I feel soaked to the skin.”

“first of all nothing will happen
and a little later
nothing will happen again”

“Don’t call yourself a secret
unless you mean to keep it.”

“You go your way
I’ll go your way too”

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Khalil Gibran

Gibran Khalil Gibran was burn 6 January, 1883, Bsharri, Ottoman Empire (now Lebanon)
Died in 10 April, 1931, New York City, United States.
Nationality – Lebanese American.
He had not formal education, but learnt from priests in his childhood. Started school in Boston with special English school then studied art in Paris with Auguste Rodin.
Occupation – Poet, artist, writer
Religion – Christian

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don’t, they never were.”

“Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.”

“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you.
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may house their bodies, but not souls.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; for even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”

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Christmas

The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other.
Burton Hillis

Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.
Oren Arnold

Somehow, not only for Christmas,
But all the long year through,
The joy that you give to others,
Is the joy that comes back to you.
And the more you spend in blessing,
The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart’s possessing,
Returns to you glad.
John Greenleaf Whittier

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.
W. T. Ellis

The merry family gatherings –
The old, the very young;
The strangely lovely way they
Harmonize in carols sung.
For Christmas is tradition time –
Traditions that recall
The precious memories down the years,
The sameness of them all.
Helen Lowrie Marshall

Love came down at Christ
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Stars and angels gave the sign.
Christina Rossetti

I heard the bells on Christmas Day.
Their old familiar carols play.
And wild and sweet the words repeat.
Of peace on earth goodwill to men.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Forget about the crackers,
And forget about the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!
A. A. Milne
King John’s Christmas.

Heap on the wood! – the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
Sir Walter Scott

And is it true? and is it true?
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?
And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant.
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare –
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
John Betjeman

And in our world of plenty
We can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world
At Christmastime.
Bob Geldof and Midge Ure
Do They Know It’s Christmas?

And So This Is Christmas;
And What Have We Done?
Another Year Over; A New One Just Begun;
And So Happy Christmas;
I Hope You Have Fun;
The Near And The Dear Ones;
The Old And The Young.
John Lennon
Happy Christmas (War is Over).

At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year.
Thomas Tusser

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Angel Mother

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.

There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one”
Jill Churchill quotes

The mother-child relationship is paradoxical and, in a sense, tragic. It requires the most intense love on the mother’s side, yet this very love must help the child grow away from the mother, and to become fully independent.
Erich Fromm quotes

Mothers of Teenagers Know Why Animals Eat Their Young.

A mother’s love is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking, it never fails or falters, even though the heart is breaking.
Helen Rice quotes

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words.

Elizabeth Stone
Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

Aristotle
Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own.

Aeschylus
On me the tempest falls. It does not make me tremble. O holy Mother Earth, O air and sun, behold me. I am wronged.

Washington Irving
A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.

Abraham Lincoln
All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother.

Henry Ward Beecher
The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.

George Washington
My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.

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Women are always beautiful

Women like silent men. They think they’re listening. ~Marcel Achard, Quote, 4 November 1956

Sure God created man before woman. But then you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece. ~Author Unknown

Some men know that a light touch of the tongue, running from a woman’s toes to her ears, lingering in the softest way possible in various places in between, given often enough and sincerely enough, would add immeasurably to world peace. ~Marianne Williamson, “A Woman’s Worth”

Women cannot complain about men anymore until they start getting better taste in them. ~Bill Maher

A male gynecologist is like an auto mechanic who has never owned a car. ~Carrie Snow

You start out happy that you have no hips or boobs. All of a sudden you get them, and it feels sloppy. Then just when you start liking them, they start drooping. ~Cindy Crawford

Every girl should use what Mother Nature gave her before Father Time takes it away. ~Laurence J. Peter

The average woman would rather have beauty than brains, because the average man can see better than he can think. ~Author Unknown

A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon. ~Arnold Haultain

Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult. ~Charlotte Whitton

The two women exchanged the kind of glance women use when no knife is handy. ~Ellery Queen

Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy fat women. ~Nicole Hollander

Women get the last word in every argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument. ~Author Unknown

Next to the wound, what women make best is the bandage. ~Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly

A pessimist is a man who thinks all women are bad. An optimist is a man who hopes they are. ~Chauncey Mitchell Depew

The rarest thing in the world is a woman who is pleased with photographs of herself. ~Elizabeth Metcalf

There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women. ~Madeleine K. Albright

A man’s face is his autobiography. A woman’s face is her work of fiction. ~Oscar Wilde

There’s something luxurious about having a girl light your cigarette. In fact, I got married once on account of that. ~Harold Robbins

When a man talks dirty to a woman, it’s sexual harassment. When a woman talks dirty to a man, it’s $3.95 a minute. ~Author Unknown

Men get laid, but women get screwed. ~Quentin Crisp

The most popular image of the female despite the exigencies of the clothing trade is all boobs and buttocks, a hallucinating sequence of parabolae and bulges. ~Germaine Greer

Whether they give or refuse, it delights women just the same to have been asked. ~Ovid

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Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (1648-1695)

Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (1648-1695) was born in Mexico and learned to read at the age of three. As a young woman, she became the official poet of the court of the viceroy of Mexico. She became a nun in 1669 and continued her efforts to pursue an education and to write about secular themes, despite opposition from her superiors.

My Lady
Perdite, señora, quiero
de mi silencio perdón,
si lo que ha sido atención
le hace parecer grosero.

Y no me podrás culpar
si hasta aquí mi proceder,
por ocuparse en querer,
se ha olvidado de explicar.

Que en mi amorosa pasión
no fue desuido, ni mengua,
quitar el uso a la lengua
por dárselo al corazón.

Ni de explicarme dejaba:
que, como la pasión mía
acá en el alma te vía,
acá en el alma te hablaba.

Y en esta idea notable
dichosamenta vivía,
porque en mi mano tenia
el fingirte favorable.

Con traza tan peregrina
vivió mi esperanza vana,
pues te pudo hacer humana
concibiéndote divina.

¡Oh, cuán loca llegué a verme
en tus dichosos amores,
que, aun fingidos, tus favroes
pudieron enloquecerme!

¡Oh, cómo, en tu sol hermoso
mi ardiente afecto encendido,
por cebarse en lo lucido,
olvidó lo peligroso!

Perdona, si atrevimiento
fue atreverme a tu ardor puro;
que no hay sagrado seguro
de culpas de pensamiento.

De esta manera engañaba
la loca esperanza mía,
y dentro de mí tenía
todo el bien que deseaba.

Mas ya tu precepto grave
rompe mi silencio mudo;
que él solamente ser pudo
de mi respeto la llave.

Y aunque el amar tu belleza
es delito sin disculpa
castígueseme la culpa
primero que la tibieza.

No quieras, pues, rigurosa,
que, estando ya declarada,
sea de veras desdichada
quien fue de burlas dichosa.

Si culpas mi desacato,
culpa también tu licencia;
que si es mala mi obediencia,
no fue justo tu mandato

Y si es culpable mi intento,
será mi afecto precito,
porque es amarte un delito
de que nunca me arrepiento.

Esto en mis afectos hallo,
y más, que explicar no sé;
mas tú, de lo que callé,
inferirás lo que callo.

My lady, I must implore
forgiveness for keeping still,
if what I meant as tribute
ran contrary to your will.

Please do not reproach me
if the course I have maintained
in the eagerness of my love
left my silence unexplained.

I love you with so much passion,
neither rudeness nor neglect
can explain why I tied my tongue,
yet left my heart unchecked.

The matter to me was simple:
love for you was so strong,
I could see you in my soul
and talk to you all day long.

With this idea in mind,
I lived in utter delight,
pretending my subterfuge
found favor in your sight.

In this strange, ingenious fashion,
I allowed the hope to be mine
that I still might see as human
what I really conceived as divine.

Oh, how mad I became
in my blissful love of you,
for even though feigned, your favor
made all my madness seem true!

How unwisely my ardent love,
which your glorious sun inflamed,
sought to feed upon your brightness,
though the risk of your fire was plain!

Forgive me if, thus emboldened,
I made bold with that sacred fire:
there’s no sanctuary secure
when thought’s transgressions conspire.

Thus it was I kept indulging
these foolhardy hopes of mine,
enjoying within myself
a happiness sublime.

But now, at your solemn bidding,
this silence I herewith suspend,
for your summons unlocks in me
a respect no time can end.

And, although loving your beauty
is a crime beyond repair,
rather the crime be chastised
than my fervor cease to dare.

With this confession in hand,
I pray, be less stern with me.
Do not condemn to distress
one who fancied bliss so free.

If you blame me for disrespect,
remember, you gave me leave;
thus, if obedience was wrong,
your commanding must be my reprieve.

Let my love be ever doomed
if guilty in its intent,
for loving you is a crime
of which I will never repent.

This much I descry in my feelings–
and more that I cannot explain;
but you, from what I’ve not said,
may infer what words won’t contain.

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Because We Are Used to Loving. Francesco Petrarch

Francesco Petrarch, one of greatiest Italian scholar, poet, and humanist, was born shortly after 1300, in the time of Renaissance, became famous mostly for his love poems addressed to Laura de Noves. She was the love of Petrarch’s life, an idealized beloved whom he met in 1327 and who died in 1348. It was for Laura which Petrarch wrote the “Canzoniere”.

***
Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono
di quei sospiri ond’io nudriva ‘l core
in sul mio primo giovenile errore
quand’era in parte altr’uom da quel ch’i’ sono,

del vario stile in ch’io piango et ragiono
fra le vane speranze e ‘l van dolore,
ove sia chi per prova intenda amore,
spero trovar pietà, nonché perdono.

Ma ben veggio or sí come al popol tutto
favola fui gran tempo, onde sovente
di me mesdesmo meco mi vergogno;

et del mio vaneggiar vergogna è ‘l frutto,
e ‘l pentersi, e ‘l conoscer chiaramente
che quanto piace al mondo è breve sogno.
***
(english)
You who hear the sound, in scattered rhymes,
of those sighs on which I fed my heart,
in my first vagrant youthfulness,
when I was partly other than I am,

I hope to find pity, and forgiveness,
for all the modes in which I talk and weep,
between vain hope and vain sadness,
in those who understand love through its trials.

Yet I see clearly now I have become
an old tale amongst all these people, so that
it often makes me ashamed of myself;

and shame is the fruit of my vanities,
and remorse, and the clearest knowledge
of how the world’s delight is a brief dream.

Francesco Petrarch was born shortly after 1300 in a time and place where very few could read or write and those that did considered it a chore where as Petrarch saw a blessing. His passion to write his thoughts to paper was only overcome by the need to sleep or eat.
So great was his desire to write his thoughts and feelings and so difficult was it to find anyone in Europe to match his desire he found himself writing to Cicero, one of the only people he believed really shared his passion. (Cicero was a Roman Poet/Politician that died over 1200 years before Petrarch was born).

All what is known is that Petrarch met Laura in Avignon, where he had entered the household of an influential cardinal. She is generally believed to have been the 19-year-old wife of Hugues de Sade. Petrarch saw her first time in the church of Saint Claire. According to several modern scholars, it is possible that Laura was a fictional character. However, she was a more realistically presented female character than in the conventional songs of the troubadours or in the literature of courtly love.

“In my youth I was blessed with an agile, active body, though not particularly strong; and while I cannot boast of being very handsome, I was good-looking enough in my younger days. I had a clear complexion, between light and dark, lively eyes, and for many years sharp vision, which, however, unexpectedly deserted me when I passed my sixtieth birthday, and forced me, reluctantly, to resort to the use of glasses. Although I had always been perfectly healthy, old age assailed me with its usual array of discomforts.” (from ‘Letter to Posterity’)

“True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.”

“Man has no greater enemy than himself.”

“Love is the crowning grace of humanity, the holiest right of the soul, the golden link which binds us to duty and truth, the redeeming principle that chiefly reconciles the heart of life, and is prophetic of eternal good.”

“Five enemies of peace inhabit with us / avarice, ambition, envy, anger, and pride; if these were to be banished, we should infallibly enjoy perpetual peace.”

“Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together”

“To be able to say how much you love is to love but little”

“Suspicion is the cancer of friendship.”

“Books have led some to learning and others to madness”

“There is no lighter burden, nor more agreeable, than a pen”

“It is more honorable to be raised to a throne than to be born to one. Fortune bestows the one, merit obtains the other.”

“A short cut to riches is to subtract from our desires”

“Sameness is the mother of disgust, variety the cure”

“The aged love what is practical while impetuous youth longs only for what is dazzling.”

“All pleasure in the world is a passing dream.”
eathian Francesco Petrarch quote

“Who naught suspects is easily deceived.”

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Roses Quotes

The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose
Robert Frost

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows
Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with elgantine.
Shakespeare

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
Iris Murdoch

The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
John Boyle O’Reilly

Which is loveliest in a rose? Its coy beauty when it’s budding, or its splendour when it blows?
George Barlow

I’d rather have roses on my table
than diamonds ’round my neck.
Emma Goldman

A primrose by the river’s brim
A yellow rose was to him.
And it was nothing more.
William Wordsworth

But earthlier happy is the rose distill’d
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
William Shakepeare

The world is a rose, smell it and pass it to your friends.
Persian Proverb

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