Blossom Quotes

“THE WEATHER OF LOVE


Love
Has a way of wilting
Or blossoming
At the strangest,
Most unpredictable hour.
This is how love is,
An uncontrollable beast
In the form of a flower.
The sun does not always shine on it.
Nor does the rain always pour on it
Nor should it always get beaten by a storm.
Love does not always emit the sweetest scents,
And sometimes it can sting with its thorns.
Water it.
Give it plenty of sunlight.
Nurture it,
And the flower of love will
Outlive you.
Neglect it or keep dissecting it,
And its petals will quickly curl up and die.
This is how love is,
Perfection is a delusional vision.
So love the person who loves you
Unconditionally,
And abandon the one
Who only loves you
Under favorable
Conditions.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“When an incidental color or a random fragrance takes possession of our imagination, we can unexpectedly blossom into a new entity as it gives us wings and enlightens our horizon, just like canary birds that feel stimulated and start singing as soon as they sense the radiance of the sun through the reflection of the skylight. (‘"Côté cour…Côté jardin" )”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)”
― Tim Willocks, The Religion

“Roses do not bloom hurriedly; for beauty, like any masterpiece, takes time to blossom.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“They blossomed, they did not talk about blossoming.”
― Dejan Stojanovic, The Sun Watches the Sun

“A flower does not use words to announce its arrival to the world; it just blooms.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“If you use a philosophy education well, you can get your foot in the door of any industry you please. Industries are like the blossoms on a tree while philosophy is the trunk - it holds the tree together, but it often goes unnoticed.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

“. . . at this season, the blossom is out in full now, there in the west early. It's a plum tree, it looks like apple blossom but it's white, and looking at it, instead of saying "Oh that's nice blossom" ... last week looking at it through the window when I'm writing, I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it. Things are both more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial and the important doesn't seem to matter. But the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous, and if people could see that, you know. There's no way of telling you; you have to experience it, but the glory of it, if you like, the comfort of it, the reassurance ... not that I'm interested in reassuring people - bugger that. The fact is, if you see the present tense, boy do you see it! And boy can you celebrate it.”
― Dennis Potter, Seeing the Blossom: Two Interviews and a Lecture

“If you tend to a flower, it will bloom, no matter how many weeds surround it.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“The man was staring directly at him now, a curious expression on his face, half smiling, half quizzical. Instantly Eager had a sense of certainty far deeper than anything he had experienced so far. "I have it too!" he exclaimed. "I am a part of this Earth, aren't I? Just like the birds and the trees and the people - I am."
"Om." said his companion.
Unseen by them, a blossom fell.”
― Helen Fox

“But he calls down a blessing on the blossom of the may,
Because it comes in beauty, and in beauty blows away.”
― W.B. Yeats, Stories of Red Hanrahan

“To be alive, fill your eyes with the light-filled sky, carry the river in your soul, and when night falls, listen to the winds and their tales, how jasmine blooms when the world goes to sleep. Isn't that how the night gets fragrant? You, too, will be filled with dreams, not fears.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Tears are spring showers to the garden of the heart.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The most powerful soul is the one who becomes a lotus of peace inside.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The most powerful soul is the one who becomes a lotus of light inside. The most powerful soul is the one who becomes a flower of peace within, rather than seeking it.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Sunflowers, the blossoming suns, make this land a kingdom of light. This earth is awake with gems of hope again!”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Flower power lies in the telling of its story to the world through opening fully and deeply, breathing into the world, a love affair with life.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Flower power lies in the telling of its story to the world through opening fully and deeply, breathing into the earth, a love affair with life.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Here we are, the flowers and I,
and hours pass by in golden silence,
until all that remains are blossoms of scent.

Here we are, the hills and I,
and moments fleet in silent enchantment.
Immersed am I in the grandeur,
until all that remains are the hills of glory.

Here we are, the meadows and I,
and time passes by like a river, wild,
until all that remains is the grass carpet.

Could those flowers be washing me with scent,
until I disappeared into them?
Could those hills be calling me,
until I lost myself in their madness?
Could the meadows be filling me with freshness,
until I dissolved into their dew of life?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Here we are, the flowers and I,
and hours pass by in golden silence,
until all that remains are blossoms of scent.

Here we are, the hills and I,
and moments fleet in silent enchantment.
Immersed am I in the grandeur,
until all that remains are hills of glory.

Here we are, the meadows and I,
and time passes by like a river, wild,
until all that remains is a grass carpet.

Did those flowers keep washing me with scent,
until I disappeared into them?
Did those hills keep calling me,
until I lost myself in their madness?
Did the meadows keep filling me with freshness,
until I dissolved into their dew of life?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“A flower opens for the bee; the night, too, opens for the moon.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The flowers are in full bloom. The hills are clothed in marigolds. Could it be a scented summer?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Let the earth speak to you, let the earth fill you in with its whispers.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The lotus unfolds only in the murk. Stars explode at night; the moon lands. Growth occurs in the quiet dark.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Those who once lived are now flowers on the earth.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“You weep, and a garden grows from the grave. This is how fresh flowers grow on the soil, wet where you wept.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Lovers find gardens in this world of weeds. Poets make poems of the whispered sighs in the breeze. Storytellers find stories in the forsaken alleys. That's how beauty is woven in this dusty world. That's how light is born in the darkness.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“In utter longing, I am athirst for flowers even in the sheets of snow. My thirst drove me to a search for perfumed beauty, though the ground is covered with a white blanket.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The flowers speak the unspoken grief, as the soul has flowered in the torment of emotions, searing the depths. Only in the hardest hour do we grasp the dawning light.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The flowers speak the unspoken grief, as the soul has flowered in the torment of searing emotions. Only in the hardest hour do we grasp the dawning light.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee