Quotes About A Black Rose

#1. Case turned back, in time to catch the briefest flash of a black rose, its petals sheened like leather, the black stem thorned with bright chrome.

William Gibson

#2. There's a black rose growing in your garden.

H.D.

#3. And offers me a black rose.
"I figured you'd hate flowers, so I decided to get one that matched your soul" He says. I take the flower, careful not to touch any of his long finger.

Sara Wolf

#4. Like a black pirate flag on the blue ocean of air, a hawk hung ominous; then, plummet-wise, dropped to the hedgerow, whence there rose, thin and shrill, a piteous voice of squealing. By

Kenneth Grahame

#5. I let his rose wither in a vase on my desk, a vase painfully empty of flowers since the long-ago time when, on my birthday, Mario would give me a cattleya, in imitation of Swann. In the evening the flower was already black and bent on its stem. I threw it in the trash.

Elena Ferrante

#6. Then the whole range, much nearer now, paled into fresh splendor; a full moon rose, touching each peak in succession like some celestial lamplighter, until the long horizon glittered against a blue-black sky.

James Hilton

#7. When the whistling-thrush released
A deep sweet secret on the trembling air;
Blackbird on the wing, bird of the forest shadows,
Black rose in the long ago summer,
This was your song:
It isn't time that's passing by,
It is you and I.

Ruskin Bond

#8. I remember seeing 'Snow White' and saying to my mother, 'Will there ever be a Chocolate Brown?' She said 'Probably. Why not?' I just never thought the first black princess would be me.

Anika Noni Rose

#9. Patience. I colored patience gray, hung over with black clouds. I colored hope yellow, just like the sun we could see for a few short morning hours. Too soon the sun rose high in the sky & disappeared from view, leaving us bereft and staring at blue.

V.C. Andrews

#10. A Halloween flower,
if ever there was one,
would smell like an onion,
have thorns like a rose.
With charcoal black petals
and vines that entangle,
t'would grow under moonlight
in mud, I suppose.

Richelle E. Goodrich

#11. The clothes chosen for me as a child had a strong element of the Pre-Raphaelite, muted greens and ivories, dusty rose, what seems in retrospect an eccentric amount of black.

Joan Didion

#12. But when they brought Sabira out, the crowd parted almost magically. A sea of hands rose faster than a swell and a bidding war commenced, amongst these civilized gentlemen who made their living off the backs of slaves.

Jay Grewal

#13. She was my black rose, a broken angel I could hug and drift away with into peaceful oblivion.

Jess C. Scott

#14. The snow-white angel alone remains, hovering over Tara Burgess's fresh grave, holding a single black rose in one hand. She does not move, does not even bat an eyelash. Her powdered face stays frozen in sorrow. The increasing rain pulls stray feathers from her wings and pins them to the mud below.

Erin Morgenstern

#15. The pink sun tumbled from the sky like a shooting star, turning day to night in the space of a trembling breath. What rose in its place was a moon made of rotting meat, its vast surface pitted with crawling black mold, glowing in a starless sky.

Craig Schaefer

#16. Recai's hold on sanity shattered as he peered into the same two black eyes that had mocked him as Rebekah lay bleeding across his lap.
A scream rose into the night, competing with the sky for the very ear of God.

Pavarti K. Tyler

#17. And motioned me toward a spot next to a middle-aged Moroi in a very formal and very designer black suit. The suit screamed, I'm sorry the queen is dead, and I'm going to look fashionable while showing my grief

Richelle Mead

#18. Only forest fires produce more black carbon than bunker fuel. Bunker fuel can have a sulfur content of up to 45,000 parts per million (ppm). Low-sulfur diesel for cars is supposed to contain 10 ppm. The sulfur is converted into acid

Rose George

#19. Back in the 1970s, Kodak tried to give $25m to a black civil rights organisation in Rochester, New York. The company's shareholders rose up in arms: making this politically charged offering wasn't the reason they had entrusted Kodak with their money. The donation was withdrawn.

Noreena Hertz

#20. It was a haunting tune, unresigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind and say goodbye.

Kristin Cashore

#21. Let's just say if karma's a bitch...
I'm her bastard of a brother.

Suzanne Steele

#22. You know why Guns n' Roses aren't a good band? Because no black people listen to them.

Anton Newcombe

#23. The Black Death announces itself by the appearance of foul, egg-sized swellings that erupt on the bodies of its victims, followed by spreading boils and hideous discolorations of the skin. So excruciating is the pain that death, when it comes, is a mercy.
-The Book of the Eternal Rose

Fiona Paul

#24. Designing bridal is perfect for me, because black is my least favorite color, if you could call it a color.

Lela Rose

#25. She looks like a fucking wet dream sitting on that bike. Her legs are covered in tight denim with black boots laced up to mid-calf. She has a leather jacket on and it's zipped up half way, showing off a good amount of cleavage.

Aurora Rose Reynolds

#26. Runes, runes, runes ... Runes. An inverted Algiz rune. The caption next to it said "Chernobog." The Black God. Right. Of course, it wouldn't be Chernobog, God of Morning Dew on the Rose Petals, but a woman could always hope.

Ilona Andrews

#27. It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye.

Kristin Cashore

#28. Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins.
Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.

Jessica Sorensen

#29. A song she heard
Of cold that gathers
Like winter's tongue
Among the shadows
It rose like blackness
In the sky
That on volcano's
Vomit rise
A Stone of ruin
From burn to chill
Like black moonrise
Her voice fell still ...

Robert Fanney

#30. He cupped her face lightly in his hands, and gravity seemed to draw them together, like light towards a black hole.

Frankie Rose

#31. Oh the irony life sometimes throws our way. It's almost like fate plays a sadistic joke on us just because she's in a mood that day - fickle bitch that she is.

Suzanne Steele

#32. From the other side of the hill, two enormous black wings appeared through the mist. Then a pair of sharp, twisted horns. Slowly, Maleficent rose into the air, looking like a creature from hell. Behind her, there was only mist. No army of her own. No faeries or creatures. Just Maleficent.

Elizabeth Rudnick

#33. I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up.
He called it his second smile.

Holly Black

#34. It was night and I could see a large and calm lake, reflecting the moon. Black mountains rose around it. I arrived from between two of these mountains, I looked at the lake and the moon, and that was it, nothing else happened.

Georges Simenon