Rose took my nose, I suppose,” he repeated; the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. “And it really blows.
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple's a rose,
And the pear is, and so's
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose -
But were always a rose.
Any nose may ravage with impunity a rose.
My real name is Amanda Rose Saccomanno, so a lot of people don't know that, but Rose is kind of special in my family as my grandma's name is Rosemary, my mom's name is Mary Rose, I'm Amanda Rose, my niece is Demi Rose.
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose.
She had to go," said Rose. "It was because of her angel," said Indigo. "And because of Granddad," added Caddy. "And because of her nose stud." "And because her name isn't on the color chart." "She's lonely," said Rose. "That's why.
What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.
You go to the draft board and think, 'Here's a nose tackle. Who needs a nose tackle?' Well, eight teams in front of you need a nose tackle, and there's two nose tackles. It's something you have to figure out where you can get the players to play in your system.
The old Indian proverb holds true. Once you've cut off a person's nose, there's no point in giving him a rose to smell.
Soon the purple dark must bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little Cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose
I was keen on sports-that's how my nose got this way. It's not actually broken; the nose was just pushed up a little bit and moved over. It's an aquiline nose, quite Irish.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt,
As the flames rose to her Roman nose
And her Walkman started to melt...
...the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders who gave the explanation in a trembling voice: “It’s the ghost!
The good thing about England - like, if I were in France, all people would be doing is rubbing my nose in Donald Trump. As if I voted for him. Just rubbing my nose in him. And in England, they'd be rubbing my nose in it too, except for Brexit. So that means they can't rub my nose in anything!
Nose, nose, jolly red nose,And who gave thee that jolly red nose?Nutmegs and ginger, cinammon and cloves;And they gave me this jolly red nose.