Thorns Quotes

You’re not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge.” He paused and shook his head at himself. “And Perrotte’s away for a few minutes, and you’re talking to yourself again.

Life may be a bed of roses, but roses still have thorns.

I thought that a fairer era of life was beginning for me, one that was to have its flowers and pleasures, as well as its thorns and toils. My faculties, roused by the change of scene, the new field offered to hope, seemed all astir. I cannot precisely define what they expected, but it was something pleasant: not perhaps that day or month, but at an indefinite future period.

Flowers are evil, because they live just to die for the love of other people. You don’t believe me? Try it for yourself and see if you’ll be good afterwards. Undeath is a way of life, for some things. That doesn’t make it good or anything. Especially anything. Nothing makes anything anything. Because nothing is a serious matter, and anything just is.

We all have thorns in our flesh. All of us. Love is when we stay and help someone pluck out their thorns one-by-one and they do the same for us. Love is also when we pluck the thorns out of our own flesh, one-by-one. But today, the world teaches us that we shouldn’t even see those thorns, that we should only see the petals. As a result, we don’t know how to love ourselves and we don’t know how to love others. Stay with the darkness, and bring that darkness into the light. It’s there, look at it.

Some of the most beautiful things worth having in your life come wrapped in a crown of thorns.

If all we had were roses, would the thorns then be beautiful?

THE WEATHER OF LOVELoveHas a way of wiltingOr blossomingAt the strangest,Most unpredictable hour.This is how love is,An uncontrollable beastIn the form of a flower.The sun does not always shine on it.Nor does the rain always pour on itNor 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 willOutlive 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 youUnconditionally,And abandon the oneWho only loves youUnder favorableConditions.

The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow.

«And in the end» said the witch to the drowning prince «You've been the one choosing the thornless path in spite of knowing where it could lead. The one who afraid of the pricking roses, plunged himself into an abyss without petals

And if not for the caterpillars and butterflies, who will I talk to? You'll be far away. And as for larger creatures, I'm not afraid. I have my thorns...to protect me.

Disheartened, enraptured, and strangely lightheaded, Grady emerged from the trees and walked back through town to the island bridge, his ankles and hands marked up with thorn scratches.

How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?” Sand shrugged. “A saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me.” “If you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job,” Perrotte whispered. Sand scuffed his shoe at her. “I’m just telling the truth!” “You’re very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible.”“Thank you?

When someone comes around at that dreary moment, when all hope was lost, and thorns emerged. And that fellow, walks on that thorn just to cross to your side, to bear the pains for your sake, to bleed, to self-destroy himself, just to protect you. He places you above his priorities, and doesn't give a damn whatsoever taunt he receives, his foremost desire is to make sure you are save, feel loved and cared for, and that's the true definition of love.

The shrine I prayed at not to go to university,” Sand said.“I guess your prayer was answered,” Perrotte said.Sand strongly considered throwing something at her—but there was nothing to hand that wasn’t sacred.

You may bend, but that will not bring your life to an end. Your refusal to give up is the key; your rose flowers blossom from the thorns of life!

And turnips - endless ruptured turnips.

He picked up one of Lorna's roses and set it in my lap. "Here." I picked it up and smelled it. He poked me in the shoulder. "See what I mean? Thorns don't stop you from sniffing. Or putting them in a vase on the kitchen table. You work around them.... Cause the rose is worth it... Think what you'd miss.

For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important?

I’m alive,” he groaned. “But I’m not doing a very good job of it.

Tears are not thorns.

Crime scenes of pure sex, thorns on her body, blow-dry.

Poetry without truth, is like a rose without thorns.Still pretty,But sometime the real beauty comes from the things that can make us bleed.

I have brought you the rose of love, and you have crowned me, in these dark hours, with their thorns.

Focus your energy on the fragrance and beauty of the petals not on the thorns.

When we say "transformation," it means that nothing of the old has remained. Something totally new has flowered within you. Now you look at a rose plant that is full of thorns. Springtime came and rose flowers burst out — it is a transformation. The thorns are still there — there are more thorns than flowers — but we do not call it a thorn plant. We call it a rose plant because of that single rose. Everyone's attention goes more towards that single rose than a hundred thorns that are on the plant, isn't it? So all the thorns in you, maybe you cannot remove them right now, but if one rose flower blossoms, everyone is willing to overlook those things.

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.

I love you,’ he whispered, and kissed my brow. ‘Thorns and all.

But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.

Roses and thorns are parts of the same plant. Somehow though, some people are concerned mainly about the roses. The rose is not on the plant for more than a week, but the thorns are there forever.Roses are teaching that the beauty of life will bloom, once you have taught yourself the lessons given by living with the thorns.

Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.

Love is like a rose. So beautiful to look at, yet so painful to touch.

The more I try to understand one very peculiar aspect of women, it seems clear to me that apart from the beauty or the sensuous state that women command over men, there is an inferiority, lesser known to the masses which is more of agony and pain - a resultant effort of the continuous mood swings and the frequent natural cycles that buoy them, it is in this state that women function and calibrate on this basis in selecting a life partner and not the usual histrionics that men take effort in pleasing them!

Flowery tongues have thorny throats.

Some people are like thorns. But you have to let them be thorns, because thorns can't turn into petals. The trick is not letting them prick you; never let a thorn prick you!

Saint Melor’s father was Saint Meliau.”“Was everyone in Bertaèyn a saint, back in the day?”“Everyone who didn’t murder anyone, maybe,” Perrotte said.

One can talk good and shower down roses, but it's the receiver that has to walk through the thorns, and all its false expectations.

What are the thorns really telling her? It's why she won't let us see them, why she clings to them--or they cling to her--as though she got herself buried in a bramble thicket and she can't get out and we can't get in to free her.

Thorns do not keep a rose from blooming, neither should obstacles keep you from success.

This is not the way these tales end," Calliope said firmly."This is not the way that things end when they get to be tales," Amatus said, "but since ours is not yet told, we cannot count on it. There were a hundred dead princes on the thorns outside Sleeping Beauty's castle, and I'm sure many of them were splendid fellows.

We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.

Live in Thorns but always enchant the hearts with your fragrance