A Quote by Mehmet Murat Ildan

Rumi says love turns thorns into flowers. This means that hate turns flowers into thorns! — © Mehmet Murat Ildan
Rumi says love turns thorns into flowers. This means that hate turns flowers into thorns!

Quote Author

We can choose to gather to our hearts the thorns of disappointment, failure, loneliness, and dismay in our present situation. Or we can gather the flowers of God's grace, boundless love, abiding presence, and unmatched joy. I choose to gather the flowers.
if a sheep eats bushes does it eat flowers too? a sheep eats whatever it finds even a flower with thorn? even a flower with thorns. then what's the good of thorns?
You throw thorns, falling in my silence they become flowers.
To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
There's no dearth of kindness in this world of ours; Only in our blindness we gather thorns for flowers.
There's no dearth of kindness In the world of ours; Only in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers.
I think most American churchgoers are the soil that chokes the seed because of all the thorns. Thorns are anything that distracts us from God. When we want God and a bunch of other stuff, then that means we have thorns in our soil. A relationship with God simply cannot grow when money, sins, activities, favorite sports teams, addictions, or commitments are piled on top of it.
As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.
I can alter my life by altering my attitude. He who would have nothing to do with thorns must never attempt to gather flowers.
Upon my weary heart was showered smiles, plaudits and flowers, but beyond them I saw troubles and thorns innumerable.
I want my music to be accessible to every listener because I know that I really have something to say in terms of really, you know, removing thorns from people, thorns that really makes us unaware that we are bleeding with these thorns, like pain, grief, jealousy and so on.
There is a land, where the roses are without thorns, where the flowers are not mixed with brambles. In that land, there is eternal spring, and light without any cloud. The tree of life groweth in the midst thereof; rivers of pleasures are there, and flowers that never fade. Myriads of happy spirits are there, and surround the throne of God with a perpetual hymn. The angels with their golden harps sing praises continually, and the cherubim fly on wings of fire! This country is Heaven.
Who is wiser: the man who plants flowers along life's way or the man who makes it bristle with thorns?
I don't believe you! Flowers are weak creatures. They are naive. They reassure themselves as best they can. They believe that their thorns are terrible weapons.
Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.
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