A Quote by Barbara Johnson

Old florists never die. They just make other arrangements. — © Barbara Johnson
Old florists never die. They just make other arrangements.
Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young.
To apply poetic license or to apply incorrect arrangements requires the idea or the understanding of correct arrangements - becoming an expert of the conventions of correct arrangements in order to misplace them. In other words, misplacing things with the understanding, or even the mastery, of normalcy is actually quite poetic. These are rule-based operations.
Old teachers never die, they just grade away.
Old Professors never die, they just lose their faculties.
Old soldiers never die; they just fade away.
I always remind Quebecers: hey, wait a minute - federalism works. If you look at the fiscal arrangements, the economic arrangements, the way the country works, if you compare it to other countries in the world, it's quite advantageous for Quebec.
One thing is sure, there are just two respectable ways to die. One is of old age, and the other is by accident.
Old gardeners never die. They just spade away and then throw in the trowel.
Louis: You see that old woman? That will never happen to you. You will never grow old, and you will never die. Claudia: And it means something else too, doesn't it? I shall never ever grow up.
Since a good part of my life has been wasted dealing with fools just like them, it's not worry I feel but weariness as I watch the approach of one more episode in the old, tired story of men who try to beat life, the smart ones who think they know it all and die with a look of surprise on their faces: at the final moment they always see the truth - they never really understood anything, never held anything in their hands. An old story, old and boring.
People who live in states have as a rule never experienced the state of nature and vice-versa, and have no practical possibility of moving from the one to the other ... On what grounds, then, do people form hypotheses about the relative merits of state and state of nature? ... My contention here is that preferences for political arrangements of society are to a large extent produced by these very arrangements, so that political institutions are either addictive like some drugs, or allergy-inducing like some others, or both, for they may be one thing for some people and the other for others.
Old soldiers never die, they just lose their grip on reality after traumatic brain injuries.
Never give up, never slow down, never grow old and never ever die young.
When I was a little kid, if somebody said they were thirty-five, I'd say "Oooh, they're going to die soon". But as I get older it doesn't mean a thing. You mustn't ever give in. Never give in to thinking you're old, because you're never old. Your mind, and I tell you this and listen to me carefully, your mind is never, ever old, it's eternally young.
They say the good die young, so the bad die old. Guess we somewhere in the middle, so just pray for my soul.
Old gardeners never die; they just very slowly turn into the most magnificent compost. But what a marvellous, active brew it is!
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