Quotes About Wild Rose

#1. A wild rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

#2. So said Mrs. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fullness of her heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound.

L.M. Montgomery

#3. Wild rose-bush, covered, in this month of June, with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty to the prisoner as he went in, and to the condemned criminal as he came forth to his doom, in token that the deep heart of Nature could pity and be kind to him.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

#4. When a man can look upon the simple wild-rose, and feel no pleasure, his taste has been corrupted.

Henry Ward Beecher

#5. Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

Emily Bronte

#6. Lirralei was a girl of storm
winds and thorns, the musk of the wild rose and the flight of the falcon.

Rosamund Hodge

#7. Could two live that way? Could two live under the wild rose, and explore by the pond, so that the smooth mind of each is as everywhere present to the other, and as received and as unchallenged, as falling snow?

Annie Dillard

#8. She is our moon. Our tidal pull. She is the rich deep beneath the sea, the buried treasure, the expression in the owl's eye, the perfume in the wild rose. She is what the water says when it moves.

Patricia A. McKillip

#9. Oma says, when we were put on earth a really long time ago, each person came with a plant to heal all the troubles that come later ... We've got Indian balsam, sage, wild rose. We've got juniper berries and honeysuckle. All of them do something different inside, heal things.

J.J. Brown

#10. Warm honey, a shot of raw whiskey, and a little hot puff of smoke wafted from his mouth like a fine and rare brandy being decanted. -- Chloe San Valentine from 3 WISHES

Peggy Jaeger

#11. You are a rose bush left out in the wild, scraping for survival. You have fought for everything you have, and you thrive on the struggle. You're called to it. The harder things are, the better you get.

Denise Grover Swank

#12. O wild, dark flower of woman, Deep rose of my desire, An Eastern wizard made you Of earth and stars and fire.

Charles G.D. Roberts

#13. I believe that even in the darkest of moments, a rose can bloom, and its beauty can make us hope again. I want to take you on a wild, dark journey of fear, despair, and pain, on to ultimate redemption and love.

Carole Gill

#14. You gonna back down so easy, little sister?. Not much wild about you, is there? I bet that cottage doesn't have a scratch. Did Edward tell you how many houses Rose and I smashed?

Stephenie Meyer

#15. The honeysuckle was everywhere the day the letter arrived, like heat. Wild roses bloomed in hedges of tendrils and perfume. There were fat bees, dirigible bees, plump and miniature. It was a sweet, tangled morning, and the sun rose, leisurely, in a spectacular blush.

Cathleen Schine

#16. As the wild mood rose in him, the need for rest would lessen even more in the coming days. All he wanted was to get through the school day and find his way back to the night.

Ryan Blacketter

#17. Wild and disrespectful? Who the hell are you anyway? Outsourced help?

Richelle Mead

#18. And the wild beast rose up within him and screamed, as it had screamed in the Jungle from the dawn of time.

Upton Sinclair

#19. The apparition of an evil, sick unconscious wild city rose before me in visible semblance, and about the dead buildings in the barren air, the bodies of the soul that built the wonderland shuffled and stalked and stalked and lurched in attitudes of immemorial nightmare all around.

Allen Ginsberg

#20. Their howls rose to the sky and twisted together until they were on, and the other beasts joined in too, all of their voices creating a wild, plaintive song of sorry and abandon and anger and love.

Dave Eggers

#21. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.

Lord Byron

#22. Day after day there rose a smell which Lucy found very hard to describe: sweet- yes, but not at all sleepy or overpowering, a fresh wild lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain-

C.S. Lewis

#23. The fact that the idea don't come freshly on us makes it necessary for it to be better in order to be good at all. The first rose must have driven the first smeller perfectly wild, but every rose since has smelt just as well.

Susan Hale

#24. I can get it right on the page," Carly told him. "Real life has no edits."
from THE VOICES OF ANGELS

Peggy Jaeger

#25. Years should be nothing to you. Who asked you to count them or consider them? In the world of wild Nature, time is measured by seasons only-the bird does not know how old it is-the rose-tree does not count its birthdays!

Marie Corelli

#26. Quietness rose within Aquila, easing his wild unrest as the salve was cooling the smart of his gashed side. But that was always the way with Brother Ninnias
the quietness, the sense of sanctuary, were things that he carried with him.

Rosemary Sutcliff

#27. I think that we need to live our lives for the present ... as if it is our one and only wild and wonderful life.

M.J. Rose

#28. There are no endings for any of us, happy or
otherwise, until we die. A fairy tale only ends
happily because that's the point where the
storyteller stops telling the story.

Lilly Gayle

#29. The sun shall always rise upon a new day and there shall always be a rose garden within me. Yes, there is a part of me that is broken, but my broken soil gives way to my wild roses.

C. JoyBell C.

#30. She was a French rose growing wild amid the hothouse flowers of London.

Sabrina Jeffries

#31. Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are
Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.

Walter De La Mare

#32. Of course, some might consider any get-together with Rose Hathaway and Lissa Dragomir a wild time.

Richelle Mead

#33. This is the blood's wild tree that grows the intricate and folded rose

Judith Wright

#34. General Howe turned out some German wild boars and sows in his forests, to the great terror of the neighbourhood; and, at one time, a wild bull or buffalo: but the country rose upon them and destroyed them.

Gilbert White

#35. Perhaps power had to be tended, like Tieren said, but not all things grew in gardens. Plenty of plants grew wild. And Lila had always thought of herself more as a weed than a rose bush.

Victoria Schwab

#36. Up rose the wild old winter-king, And shook his beard of snow; I hear the first young hard-bell ring, 'Tis time for me to go! Northward o'er the icy rocks, Northward o'er the sea, My daughter comes with sunny locks: This land's too warm for me!

Charles Godfrey Leland

#37. Through her, in microcosm, the wide earth sobbed. The starglobe sank in her; the colours faded. The death-dew rose and the wild birds in her breast climbed to her throat and gathered songless, hovering, all tumult, wing to wing, so ardent for those climes where all things end.

Mervyn Peake