A Quote by Lauren DeStefano

Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup. — © Lauren DeStefano
Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.
I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow; I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow.
In my garden the winds have beaten the ripe lilies; in my garden, the salt has wilted the first flakes of young narcissus.
Plan your garden on paper. Mistakes made on paper won't cost you much in time or money.
Life is made of moments and choices. Not all of them matter, or have any lasting impact Then there's a different kind of moment. One when things are irrevocably changed by a choice we make. A moment we will play endlessly in our minds on lonely nights and empty days So we explain it to ourselves, justify it enough to sleep. And then we bury it deep, so deep we can almost pretend it never happened. But as much as we wish it were different, the truth is, our worlds are sometimes balanced on choices we make and the secrets we keep.
The clothes back in those days were made so much better than clothes are today. They actually took time to make clothes to fit a woman's body. Today they make clothes that fit sizes, so it stretches to fit this and that.
When a baby comes you can smell two things: the smell of flesh, which smells like chicken soup, and the smell of lilies, the flower of another garden, the spiritual garden.
She liked being reminded of butterflies. She remembered being six or seven and crying over the fates of the butterflies in her yard after learning that they lived for only a few days. Her mother had comforted her and told her not to be sad for the butterflies, that just because their lives were short didn't mean they were tragic. Watching them flying in the warm sun among the daisies in their garden, her mother had said to her, see, they have a beautiful life. Alice liked remembering that.
I needed to recognize those secrets I was keeping from myself- secrets I had buried long ago. I needed Post Secret just as much as the other people who were mailing me their secrets.
Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs. Secrets are safe, and they do much to make you different. On the inside where it counts.
There were days when we used to say, what was in today's paper is tomorrow's fish-and-chip paper.When I became successful, I enjoyed myself a little.
I went through about 40 different hats until we found one that fit. It had to fit me and fit the character, more importantly, and whatever that thing was that we were trying to create with him.
The evening wind made such a disturbance just now, among some tall old elm-trees at the bottom of the garden, that neither my mother nor Miss Betsey could forbear glancing that way. As the elms bent to one another, like giants who were whispering secrets, and after a few seconds of such repose, fell into a violent flurry, tossing their wild arms about, as if their late confidences were really too wicked for their peace of mind.
There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.
In those days, when my hands were much employed, I read but little, but the least scraps of paper which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much entertainment, in fact answered the same purpose as the Iliad.
At each moment, a poem might grow into a totally different shape. It is not so much like working in a garden. It is more as if you remade the garden every day.
I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!