Jacaranda Quotes

“Dazzling jacaranda petals covered the sidewalk like a carpet of amethyst velvet. It always amazes me how the trees sit so quietly, unnoticed all spring, until one day it feels as if every single one throughout the city bursts with blossoms at the exact same second.”
― Kim Fay, Love & Saffron

“She was no longer the shy girl her schoolmates had teased or ignored; conversation came naturally, he laughed easily, they ranked their five favorite Keats poems, agreeing to tie "Bright Star" and "To Autumn" for the top spot. Flowers rained down as the light breeze set them free, surrounding them in a purple haze. "La Belle Dame," he said softly, reaching to take a bloom from her hair. His expression was serious, his keen eyes studying hers. "Full beautiful---a faery's child. Have mercy on me." Polly felt something turn deep inside her, like a key in a lock, and knew that there was no way back from here.”
― Kate Morton, Homecoming

“There are times when Los Angeles is the most magical city on Earth. When the Santa Ana winds sweep through and the air is warm and so, so clear. When the jacaranda trees bloom in the most brilliant lilac violet. When the ocean sparkles on a warm February day and you're pushing fine grains of sand through your bare toes while the rest of the country is hunkered down under blankets slurping soup. But other times, like when the jacaranda trees drop their blossoms in an eerie purple rain, Los Angeles feels like only a half-formed dream. Like perhaps the city was founded as a strip mall in the early 1970s and has no real reason to exist. An afterthought from the designer of some other, better city. A playground made only for attractive people to eat expensive salads.”
― Steven Rowley, Lily and the Octopus

“As the leaves fell slowly from the Jacaranda, I ran to catch a piece of the sky.”
― Avijeet Das

“Do you perambulate at dawn?
The acacia on your right and the jacaranda on the road down the lane.

Mornings in Kathmandu are symphonies.
Tchaikovsky on a Monday, and Beethoven on a Saturday.

What voices speak to you?
Some days I hear the ghosts of extinct bees, and some days I hear the spirits of butterflies.

Today morning I read fragments from the writings of Kafka. Have you read the writings of Kierkegaard?”
― Avijeet Das

“It was barely spring in the southern hemisphere, and Buenos Aires was not yet soft, or sumptuous, or purple.*

*I wasn't sure what this meant at first, but when I asked this author to explain it, she sent me a picture of a city that resembled a cross between Little Rock and Paris awash in jacaranda blooms”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey

“I sat beneath a jacaranda tree,
where bees hummed soft in gentle glee.
They danced for you and sang with me–
at that moment I felt completely free.”
― Shekhar Sahu