Top 89 Violets Quotes & Sayings

Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.

Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.

And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

Mathematical discoveries, like springtime violets in the woods, have their season which no human can hasten or retard.

The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.

I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. 'You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,' he said. 'You've no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad.

How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew!

Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?

What a joy is there in a good book, writ by some great master of thought, who breaks into beauty as in summer the meadow into grass and dandelions and violets, with geraniums and manifold sweetness.

The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.

The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.

Roses are reddish Violets are bluish If it weren't for Christmas We'd all be Jewish.

Big doesn't necessarily mean better. Sunflowers aren't better than violets.

You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known, Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own — What are you when the rose is blown?

When the time is ripe for certain things, these things appear in different places in the manner of violets coming to light in the early spring.

Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow.

He thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him.

The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read.

Death is woven in with the violets,” said Louis. “Death and again death.”)

Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.

I had not thought of violets of late, The wild, shy kind that springs beneath you feet In wistful April days.

Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.

Roses are red, violets are blue, so are my balls thanks to you.

Violets are God's apology for February.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm schizophrenic, and so am I.

Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.

China tea, the scent of hyacinths, wood fires and bowls of violets – that is my mental picture of an agreeable February afternoon.

Look how the blue-eyed violets glance love to one another.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm sick of this poem, you probably are too.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that 's gone; Violets plucked, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again.

Roses are red Violets are blue Everything's possible Nothing is true.

Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels

You are the only person who loves me in the world," said Elizabeth. "When you talk to me I smell violets.

She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowres That in the forrest grew.

I've got it all in here ultra violets, flying saucers, strawberry bootlace come on get involved.

Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow.

Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart; I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses, as at twenty years ago.

The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.

Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violets dandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderful with eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers

Oh! that we two were Maying Down the stream of the soft spring breeze; Like children with violets playing, In the shade of the whispering trees.

In a corner of the churchyard grew a plantation of white violets, enormously plump and prosperous-looking. ... I saw the dead stretched out under me in the earth, feeding these flowers with a thin milk drawn from their bones.

We say This changes and that changes. Thus the constant Violets, doves, girls, bees and hyacinths Are inconstant objects of inconstant cause In a universe of inconstancy.

Love is both Creator's and Saviour's gospel to mankind; a volume bound in rose-leaves, clasped with violets, and by the beaks of humming-birds printed with peach-juice on the leaves of lilies.

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.

The mountain violets break the rocks.

Do you think amethysts can be the souls of good violets?

Mathematical discoveries, like springtime violets in the woods, have their season which no man can hasten or retard.

I do love violets; they tell the history of woman's love.

When April steps aside for May, Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten; Fresh violets open every day: To some new bird each hour we listen.

Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow.

Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!

Roses are red, violets are blue, they got ten, we only got two.

Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.

Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.

We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,-- Such our breath and blueness is.

For a moment he could have sworn he smelled violets, which was very peculiar, since he had no idea what violets smelled like, except somehow he knew they smelled just like Lady Emma.

The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.

Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

Violet has the shortest wavelength of the spectrum. Behind it, the invisible ultraviolet. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. Poor violet, violated for a rhyme.