Top 86 Red Red Rose Quotes
#1. Oh my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
Oh my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
Robert Burns
#2. A red, red rose, all wet with dew, With leaves of green by red shot through.
E. Nesbit
#4. Our love is like a red, red rose ... and I am a little thorny.
Jim Carrey
#5. My love is like the red red rose
That's newly sprung in June
O my love's like the melody
That's newly played in tune
Robert Burns
#6. He stepped back and threw his arms out.
"I'm always crazy around you Rose. Here, I'm going to write an impromptu poem for you."
He tipped his head back and shouted to the sky:
"Rose is in red
But never in blue
Sharp as a thorn
Fights like one too.
Richelle Mead
#9. When the rose's flash to the sunset
Reels to the wrack and the twist,
And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long"
Maybe I'll tell you then
some other time.
Carl Sandburg
#10. Wisdom can see the red, the rose, the stained and sculptured curve of grey, the charcoal scars of fire, and see around that living tower of tree the hermit tatters of old bark split down and strip to end the season; and can be quiet and not look for reasons past the edge of reason.
Judith Wright
#11. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks ...
William Shakespeare
#12. White rose in red rose-garden Is not so white; Snowdrops, that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows Over their maiden vows, Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
#13. All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.
Oscar Wilde
#14. The red-jacketed band stirred to life. The first musician raised his trumpet. The trombone dipped. The drumstick rose. Lea lowered her clarinet. It had been Brent's idea not to have their insturments rise and fall in unison. The staggered motion gave it a more exciting rhythm.
Paul Fleischman
#15. Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.
Oscar Wilde
#16. And the red sun of desire and decision (the two things that create a live world) rose higher and higher, while upon a succession of balconies a succession of libertines, sparkling glass in hand, toasted the bliss of past and future nights.
Vladimir Nabokov
#17. Yellow can express happiness, and then again, pain. There is flame red, blood red, and rose red; there is silver blue, sky blue, and thunder blue; every color harbors its own soul, delighting or disgusting or stimulating me.
Emil Nolde
#18. In the embers shining bright
A garden grows for thy delight,
With roses yellow, red, and white.
But, O my child, beware, beware!
Touch not the roses growing there,
For every rose a thorn doth bear.
Richard Watson Gilder
#19. O, the red rose may be fair, And the lily statelier; But my shamrock, one in three Takes the very heart of me!
Katharine Tynan
#20. Eva: Do you know why I chose your ring?
Gideon: Red is our color. Red dress in limos. red fuck-me heels at garden parties. A red rose in your hair when you married me.
Sylvia Day
#21. There is not only one measure of beauty, Lanore. Everyone adores the red rose, and yet it is a common sort of beauty. You are like a golden rose, a rare bloom but no less lovely.
Alma Katsu
#23. Match me such marvel, save in Eastern clime, A rose-red city'half as old asTime'!
John Burgon
#24. The hand-plucked rose loses meaning as life is leached. Red love, once clutched to breast, putrefies and is thrown to the midden.
The hand leaked life as meaning was pucked. Putrefaction clutched love and was thrown to the midden.
Michael R. Fletcher
#25. 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.
Phoebe Cary
#26. She bathed with roses red,
And violets blew.
And all the sweetest flowres
That in the forrest grew.
Edmund Spenser
#27. A cool red rose and a pink cut pink, a collapse and a sold hole, a little less hot. - Red roses.
Gertrude Stein
#28. Now and then it is a joy to have one's table red with wine and roses.
Oscar Wilde
#29. Be happy, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty.
Oscar Wilde
#30. Come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.
William Butler Yeats
#32. Each boat-shaped dish held scoops of vanilla and chocolate ice cream beneath thick blankets of chocolate syrup and creamy marshmallow sauce. Mounds of whipped cream rose on top, with a juicy red maraschino cherry at the very peak. Crunchy cookies poked like wings from each side.
Shirley Parenteau
#33. My soul, get Calvary's blood-red rose into thy hand by faith, by love wear it, by communion preserve it, by daily watchfulness make it thine all in all, and thou shalt be blessed beyond all bliss, happy beyond a dream.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon
#34. And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.
Oscar Wilde
#35. The red sun of desire and decision (the two things that create a live world) rose higher and higher,
Vladimir Nabokov
#36. No. Not really red,
but the color of a rose when it bleeds.
Anne Sexton
#37. The rose is red, the violet's blue,
Sugar's sweet and so are you.
If you love me as I love you,
No knife can cut our love in two.
My love for you will never fail
As long as pussy has a tail.
Maud Petersham
#38. A red rose absorbs all colors but red; red is therefore the one color that it is not.
Aleister Crowley
#39. Ian cleared his throat. "Lady Elizabeth." He reached behind him and handed her a single red rose. "A rose... for the bonniest lass who ever graced the Highlands.
Victoria Roberts
#40. My lady's presence makes the roses red, because to see her lips they blush for shame.
Henry Constable
#41. If I could tell you about Red
I would sing to you of fire Sweet like cherries
Burning like cinnamon Smelling like a rose in the sun
Dixie Dawn Miller Goode
#42. Shaft was standing next to a newstsand about thirty yards from the Con Ed crew when Kelly came out of the red-brick highrise, the glossy haven of the spade who's made it. It rose like an insult to all the failure around it, a fifteen-story middle finger that said up yours to the old neighborhood.
Ernest Tidyman
#43. I have this thing that whenever the slightest embarrassment happens I go bright red. Not in the attractive English-rose way; in the way that someone might glance over and stay 'Oh, how strange. A tomato with the body of a girl.
Liz Bankes
#45. Samarpreet Singh
From head to toe, That makes to souls close,
Red is colour with no. of petals, for you a flower ROSE
Samar Sudha
#46. 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
#47. Dear kiara, The women in the shop told me that yellow rose represents friendship and red rose shows love. And the rosery is the only thing i own that i care for, its yours i'm yours C
Simone Elkeles
#48. Here bloom red roses, dewy wet,
And beds of fragrant mignonette.
Goodale Sisters
#49. Mr Cricket: So what are you going to do?
Rose Red: Fight like a motherfucker, of course. Fight like I've got a chance. Hell if I'm just going to roll over and show throat.
Bill Willingham
#50. I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
William Butler Yeats
#51. Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins.
Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.
Jessica Sorensen
#52. Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.
Oscar Wilde
#53. She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose.
Oscar Wilde
#54. When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock,
And the brown bee drones in the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'clock,
And summer is near its close,
It's, Oh!, For the gate, and the locust lane;
And dusk, and dew, and home again!
Madison Cawein
#55. I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Edward FitzGerald
#56. The girls had run away, but the bear called to them: 'Snow-white and Rose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you.' Then they recognized his voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly his bearskin fell off, and
Jacob Grimm
#57. Rose: Look at you, beaming away like you're Father Christmas!
The Doctor: Who says I'm not, red-bicycle-when-you-were-twelve?
Rose: [shocked] What?
The Doctor: And everybody lives, Rose! Everybody lives! I need more days like this! Go on, ask me anything; I'm on fire!
Steven Moffat
#58. Red the colour of the rose
red the colour of your lips
red the colour of your tongue ...
red the colour of your heart ...
red the colour of your passion ...
Marina G. Roussou
#59. The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,
It wavers to a rose.
Henry Austin Dobson
#60. No thanks. This is a lovely dream, but it's a child's dream. I know some who'd argue the point, but I grew up long ago. - Rose Red (Fables: Vol.21, Happily Ever After)
Bill Willingham
#62. A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses.
Oscar Wilde
#63. I'm talking about the language of flowers. It's from the Victorian era, like your name. If a man gave a young lady a bouquet of flowers, she would race home and try to decode it like a secret message. Red roses mean love; yellow roses infidelity. So a man would have to choose his flowers carefully.
Vanessa Diffenbaugh
#64. William glanced at her sword. His upper lip rose, showing her his teeth. My, my, Lord Bill, what big fangs you have. That was all right. She wasn't Red Riding Hood, she wasn't scared, and her grandmother could curse his ass so hard, he wouldn't know which way was up for a week.
Ilona Andrews
#65. Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I'm sick of this poem,
you probably are too.
Anne Mazer
#66. Rose petals of a thousand shades fall from the trees as Golds fight beneath them. They're all red in the end.
Pierce Brown
#67. And the filthy hides of which they'd divested themselves smoked and stank and blackened in the flames and the red sparks rose like the souls of the small life they'd harbored.
Cormac McCarthy
#68. Violet has the shortest wavelength of the spectrum. Behind it, the invisible ultraviolet. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. Poor violet, violated for a rhyme.
Derek Jarman
#69. A girl who would never play in a tournament. She'd been butchered by agents of the Red Rose when they'd been unable to steal her away.
Cinda Williams Chima
#70. I do believe all shall be well with you, Prue. It's come to my heart as soft as dew, and as sweet as a red rose, that you'll get love as well as give it. After my time, though, after my time. But no matter for that, so I do know it's to come.
Mary Webb
#71. All the best,
Sydney
P.S. "The Red Hurricane" is what I named the car.
P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're an evil creature of the night. You are.
Richelle Mead
#72. Roses are red, violets are blue, so are my balls thanks to you.
Ralphie May
#73. The girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose red cheeks
and the lily-white neck and shoulders who gave the explanation in a
trembling voice: It's the ghost!
Gaston Leroux
#74. Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.
Kim Harrison
#75. Finally there was a thick, warm cloak with a red clasp shaped like a rose. Grimalkin must have had these made in the County and hidden them among her own possessions. I was still half asleep; the last thing I wanted
Joseph Delaney
#76. The whole street took part in the serenade to Flor, Flor leaning against her high window, all ruffles and lace, drenched in moonlight. Down below Vadinho, her gallant knight, with the red rose in his hand, so red it was almost black, the rose of her love.
Jorge Amado
#77. Love laid his sleepless head
On a thorny rose bed:
And his eyes with tears were red,
And pale his lips as the dead.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
#78. The flames rose bright on everyone's screens, flickering lipstick red and traffic-cone orange and Lord knows what else, depending on how your television's colour was.
Daniel Handler
#79. She was a rare white rose in a kingdom of thorns, and she wouldn't let anyone stain her petals red.
Alex Johnson
#81. Republicans have become the party of red, white and blue rose colored glasses. By drowning out criticism with USA! USA!, they prevent this country from healing itself where it needs healing, and that is the opposite of Country First.
Bill Maher
#82. She felt vaguely upset and unsettled. She was suddenly tired of outworn dreams. And in the garden the petals of the last red rose were scattered by a sudden little wind. Summer was over
it was Autumn.
L.M. Montgomery
#83. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain. We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, but we know that we rose and walked, that after a while we shall lie down again.
Conrad Aiken
#84. I think Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about a robin who loved a white rose. He loved it so much that he pierced his breast and let his heart's blood turn the white rose red. Maybe this sounds very sentimental, but for anybody who has loved a career as much as I've loved mine, there can be no short cuts.
Mary Pickford
#85. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.
Oscar Wilde
#86. But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
Oscar Wilde
