Top 1200 Wild Roses Quotes & Sayings

When I was a little girl, my grandfather, who I was very close to, used to grow yellow roses. He had yellow roses growing all the way up his drive.

I know patients who bring a dozen roses to the doctor's office. And, boy, the next visit, nobody forgets that. You come in and hey - 'Here's the lady who brought the roses' vs. 'Here's the lung cancer.'

Ever since Blessed Alan de la Roche re-established this devotion the voice of the people, which is the voice of God, called it the Rosary. The word Rosary means "Crown of Roses" that is to say that every time people say the Rosary devoutly they place a crown of one hundred and fifty-three red roses and sixteen white roses upon the heads of Jesus and Mary. Being heavenly flowers these roses will never fade or lose their exquisite beauty.

Perhaps the most important thing we can ever do in our lives is find a way to keep the wild-both the wild inside and the wild outside us-and tap into it.

The roses under my window make no reference to former roses or better ones; they are what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence.

Wild roses are fairest, and nature a better gardener than art.

Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.

The man who accepts the laissez-faire doctrine would allow his garden to grow wild so that roses might fight it out with the weeds and the fittest might survive.

For those roses bright, oh, those roses bright! I have twined them in my sister's locks That are hid in the dust from sight.

I had a very famous trainer tell me once, You can usually train a wild animal but never tame a wild animal, ever. They are always going to be wild, no matter what anybody says.

All humans are essentially wild creatures and hate confinement. We need what is wild, and we thrill to it, our wildness bubbling over with an anarchic joie de vivre. We glint when the wild light shines. The more suffocatingly enclosed we are - tamed by television, controlled by mortgages and bureaucracy - the louder our wild genes scream in aggression, anger and depression.

Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks the heavy perfume of wild roses in early July and the song of crickets on summer humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives.

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.

We've got to learn how to not look at creed or color. Look at how beautiful a bouquet of roses looks like - different color roses, all look beautiful. We have to learn how to let our beauty of the color of our roses shine to the world.

Fair ladies, masked, are roses in their bud; Dismasked, the damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

I am drawn to the wild not because it is wild but because it is sensible, logical, ordered, stable, resilient. Wild nature is everything we're struggling to regain.

I had a very famous trainer tell me once, 'You can usually train a wild animal but never tame a wild animal, ever.' They are always going to be wild, no matter what anybody says.

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.

It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.

You know those adages about smelling the roses and chasing butterflies? The markets are my butterflies and my roses.

Switch off the mind and let the heart decide who you were meant to be Flick to remote and let the body glide There is no enemy! Etch out a future of your own design Well tailored to your needs Then fan the flame and keep the dream alive ... ...the future is roses! Roses!

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

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.

In the season of white wild roses We two went hand in hand: But now in the ruddy autumn Together already we stand.

Hear and attend and listen; for this is what befell and be-happened and became and was, O my Best Beloved, when the Tame animals were wild. The dog was wild, and the Horse was wild, and the Cow was wild, and the Sheep was wild, and the Pig was wild -as wild as wild could be - and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself and all places were alike to him

Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.

Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too!

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.

The only time I think I've ever gotten sick of playing Guns and Roses songs really was during - after having played them in Guns and Roses, and then in Snakepit, and then playing 'It's So Easy' and 'Brownstone' in Velvet Revolver.

What do I think being wild is? Nothing. Actually, the whole world is wild. Everything is wild. There we go.

We either have wild places or we don't. We admit the spiritual-emotional validity of wild, beautiful places or we don't. We have a philosophy of simplicity of experience in these wild places or we don't. We admit an almost religious devotion to the clean exposition of the wild, natural earth or we don't.

In the embers shining bright A garden grows for thy delight, With roses yellow, red, and white. But, O my child, beware, beware! Touch not the roses growing there, For every rose a thorn doth bear.

Don't be sad that roses have thorns. Be glad that thorns have Roses. Today's the day I worried about yesterday and it didn't happen.

The honeysuckle was everywhere the day the letter arrived, like heat. Wild roses bloomed in hedges of tendrils and perfume. There were fat bees, dirigible bees, plump and miniature. It was a sweet, tangled morning, and the sun rose, leisurely, in a spectacular blush.

From my experience with wild apples, I can understand that there may be reason for a savage's preferring many kinds of food which the civilized man rejects. The former has the palate of an outdoor man. It takes a savage or wild taste to appreciate a wild fruit.

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-

If I was in the gutter, and my kids lived on the kerb, I'd go and get a job in B&Q before I'd reform the Roses. I gave everything I had to the Stone Roses and ended up hitting a brick wall. I'm never going to give anyone a foothold on that wall again.

Focus on the roses: 'A person who gathers honey will not escape being stung by bees. A person who gathers roses will not escape being scratched by thorns.' The positive things in life also have negative aspects. Keep your focus on the beautiful roses of the world, and the thorns will seem trivial and inconsequential.

Women Are Not Roses Women have no beginning only continual flows. Though rivers flow women are not rivers. Women are not roses they are not oceans or stars. i would like to tell her this but i think she already knows.

If it wasn't for KISS, there would be no Guns N' Roses. Bands like that made Guns N' Roses. We were five guys with five personalities and five different influences. The stars were aligned for us.

The cat will keep his side of the bargain. He will kill mice, and he will be kind to babies when he is in the house, just so long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up on the Wet Wild trees or on the Wet Wild roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.

Being wild can be wearing a silly hat. Being wild can be dancing weird. Being wild can be shooting people. What do I think being wild is? Nothing. Actually, the whole world is wild. Everything is wild.

The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.

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.

No one had ever called her wild before. She wanted to be wild now, for him. Wild seemed more enticing then a bowl of berries.

There's a reason it's called 'girls gone wild' and not 'women gone wild'. When girls go wild, they show their tits. When women go wild, they kill men and drown their kids in a tub.

My focus personally has been to be a conservationist, which is to save species, protect wild lands, sometimes bring animals into assurance colonies in the wild - like California Condors for example - and put them back in the wild. It's very different from animal rights.

Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses

You better change your ways / And get really wild. / I want to tell you something / I wouldn't tell you no lie. / Wild women are the only kind / That really get by, / 'Cause Wild Women don't worry / Wild Women don't get the blues.

Love is not a hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!

It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

I don't think it is as a trope or as something in our psyches. There's very little wilderness out there but there is wild mind, and the Wild mind that actually, as Gary Snyder says, wants to take care of things. There's an elegant quality to the wild mind.

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 have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.

I was in a garden at the Rodin Museum. For a few minutes I was alone, sitting on a bench between two long hedges of roses. Pink roses. Suddenly I felt the most powerful feeling of peace, and I had the thought that death, if it means an absorption into a reality like the one that was before me, might be all right.

The roses of pleasure seldom last long enough to adorn the brow of him who plucks them; for they are the only roses which do not retain their sweetness after they have lost their beauty.

People are timid and apologetic; they are no longer upright; they dare not say "I think," "I am," but quote some saint or sage. They are ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing rose. These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day.