The monstrous thing is not that men have created roses out of this dung heap, but that, for some reason or other, they should want roses.
And still I look for the men who will dare to be
roses of England
wild roses of England
men who are wild roses of England
with metal thorns, beware!
but still more brave and still more rare
the courage of rosiness in a cabbage world
fragrance of roses in a stale stink of lies
rose-leaves to bewilder the clever fools
and rose-briars to strangle the machine.
I feel like the Roses were a great group, but I never wanted to try to do it again. I knew I couldn't get a band that would compare to the Roses, that would have an impact like the Roses.
Boxing is strange to watch. It's impossible to take your eyes off of it. Part of our brains like to watch violence. At the same time, it's horrifying to watch two men try to knock each other out.
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
Roses! I swear you men have all your romance from the same worn book. Flowers are a good thing, a sweet thing to give a lady. But it is always roses, always red, and always perfect hothouse blooms when they can come by them.
Whatever your problems are, keep in mind that you die at the end of all this. Lets get out there, brutalize ourselves and laugh at those certain pricks who take it seriously, like there is any way to win in all this.
Men hang out their signs indicative of their respective trades; shoe makers hang out a gigantic shoe; jewelers a monster watch, and the dentist hangs out a gold tooth; but up in the Mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men.
In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.
I like my men like I like my roses . . . by the dozen.
Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end — of roses It is at the edge of the petal that love waits.
Men aren't called pricks, but women are called cunts.
Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
I like roses best. But they bloom in all four seasons. I wonder if people who like roses best have to die four times over again.
One of the major demographic shares of people who watch 'Girls' are men in their fifties. Fathers watch it, maybe trying to figure out how to keep up with their 20-something daughters.
When I was young I used to watch MTV, Nirvana, or Guns N' Roses.