A Quote by Thomas Moore

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns. — © Thomas Moore
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
Rumi says love turns thorns into flowers. This means that hate turns flowers into thorns!
To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.
Upon my weary heart was showered smiles, plaudits and flowers, but beyond them I saw troubles and thorns innumerable.
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.
Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
The stubbornest of wills Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron, O'er-heated in the fire to brittleness,Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through.
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?
Not so in haste, my heart! Have faith in God and wait; Although he linger long, He never comes too late. He never comes too late, He knoweth what is best: Vex not thyself in vain; Until he cometh, rest. Until he cometh, rest. Nor grudge the hours that roll: The feet that wait for God Are soonest at the goal. Are soonest at the goal. That is not gained by speed; Then hold thee still, my heart, For I shall wait his lead.
Have you noticed that the imbecile always smiles? Man's first frown is the first touch of God on his forehead. The touch of thought.
We must not hope to be mowers, And to gather the ripe gold ears, Unless we have first been sowers And water the furrows with tears. It is not just as we take it, This mystical world of ours, Life's field will yield as we make it A harvest of thorns or of flowers.
You throw thorns, falling in my silence they become flowers.
My mother always had flowers at home, they were always there. In the garden, on the table, fresh flowers. I think I relate flowers to the women in my life.
As flowers carry dewdrops, trembling on the edges of the petals, and ready to fall at the first waft of wind or brush of bird, so the heart should carry its beaded words of thanksgiving; and at the first breath of heavenly flavor, let down the shower, perfumed with the heart's gratitude.
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.
There is nothing can equal the tender hours When life is first in bloom, When the heart like a bee, in a wild of flowers, Finds everywhere perfume; When the present is all and it questions not If those flowers shall pass away, But pleased with its own delightful lot, Dreams never of decay.
Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!