For myself I hold no preferences among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous. Bricks to all greenhouses! Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!
What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but, scattered along life's pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
What a desolate place would be a world without flowers. It would be a face without a smile; a feast without a welcome. Are not flowers the stars of the earth? Are not our stars the flowers of heaven?
Hoeing: A manual method of severing roots from stems of newly planted flowers and vegetables.
Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of the character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.
Flowers...are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty out values all the utilities of the world.
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life.
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.
A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking; but even on solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.
I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o'er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils; beside the lake beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
