A Quote by Sophie Swetchine

To have ideas is to gather flowers; to think is to weave them into garlands. — © Sophie Swetchine
To have ideas is to gather flowers; to think is to weave them into garlands.
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.
Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours, Lying so silent by night and by day.
Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours, Lying so silent by night and by day Sleeping the years of their manhood away. Give them the meed they have won in the past; Give them the honors their future forcast; Give them the chaplets they won in the strife; Give them the laurels they lost with their life.
Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen.
As from a large heap of flowers many garlands and wreaths are made, so by a mortal in this life there is much good work to be done.
My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
Let the minor genius go his light way and enjoy his life - the great nature cannot so live, he is never really in holiday mood, even though he often plucks flowers by the wayside and ties them into knots and garlands like little children and lays out on a sunny morning.
When the Christians, upon these occasions, received martyrdom, they were ornamented, and crowned with garlands of flowers; for which they, in heaven, received eternal crowns of glory.
The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup; I'll drink to the garlands around it; But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
I hate getting flowers. I can't stand when I get a bouquet of flowers, because I have to stop what I do, cut the flowers, put them in a vase - if you're going to bring flowers, bring them in a vase already!
How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays; And their uncessant labours see Crown'd from some single herb or tree. Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow'rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose.
I don't think people realize why weaves and the cultural appropriation of black hairstyles are so sensitive. It's deep-rooted. For me, it goes back to high school: I wanted to have the long, flowing hair. So I got a weave. But then I didn't want guys to put their fingers in it - you don't want them to feel your weave.
This bread and wine are the simple but eloquent monument to the infinite love of the Son of God, around which we gather with tender, tearful gratitude, because He loved us'so, and because we know that our garlands of affection and consecration are pleasing to Him.
The French, perhaps more than any other nation, cherish the memory of their dead by ornamenting their places of sepulture with the finest flowers, often renewing the garlands and replacing such plants as decay with vigorous and costly ones.
Just as one can make a lot of garlands from a heap of flowers, so man, subject to birth and death as he is, should make himself a lot of good karma.
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