Top 1200 White Rose Quotes & Sayings

Whenever I have a problem, I ask the Saint (Thérèse of Lisieux) not to solve it, but to take it into her hands and to help me accept it and I almost always receive a white rose as a sign.

The artist draws a picture of a rose very nicely with all attention and artistic sense, and yet it does not become as perfect as the real rose. If that is the real fact, how can we say that the real rose has taken its shape without Intelligence behind the beauty?

It's there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snows greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again.

Feminists must denounce the use of white insecurity - whether in relation to white womanhood, white neighborhoods, white politics, or white wealth - to justify the brutal assaults against black people of all genders.

I remember the first thing I did when I found out I was illegal was to get rid of my thick Filipino accent. I figured that I had to talk white and talk black at the same time, like Charlie Rose and Dr. Dre. If I can talk white and black then no one is ever going to think that I'm "illegal."

White rose in red rose-garden Is not so white; Snowdrops, that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows Over their maiden vows, Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.

Rose of the desert! thou art to me An emblem of stainless purity,-- Of those who, keeping their garments white, Walk on through life with steps aright.

All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

Rose: "If you'd teach me to swear in Russian, I might have a new appreciation for it."Dimitri: "You swear too much already."Rose: "I just want to express myself."Dimitri: "Oh, Roza… You express yourself more than anyone else I know."- Rose Hathaway & Dimitri Belikov (Frostbite)

Amber Rose is NOT Charlie's [Rose] cousin. I just want to make sure people know.

I don't like my shoes,' said Rose. 'I'm wearing my shoes and you don't see me complain.' 'You only hear a person complain,' said Rose. 'Not see.' How has Rose lived for seventeen years and no one has killed her, not once?

She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

Every rose that is sweet-scented within, That rose is telling of the secrets of the Universal.

Where, with your one rose you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?

Rose, do you think I'd do anything that would hurt you.- Dimitri to Rose

Rose: "I was testing dorm security. It sucks." Dimitri: "You must be freezing. Do you want my coat?" Rose: "I'm fine. What are you doing out here? Are you testing security too?" Dimitri: "I am security. This is my watch." Rose: "Well, good work. I'm glad I was able to help test your awesome skills." - Rose Hathaway and Dimitri Belikov (Shadow Kiss)

If your thought is a rose, you are a rose garden; and if it is a thistle, you are fuel for the fire.

Each one of us has it in themselves to be a free spirit, just as every rose bud has in it a rose.

Some people are near- or farsighted - I'm thorn-sighted. The thorns on the rose are in really sharp definition for me, the rose petals a little fuzzier.

Cultivo una rosa blanca, En julio como en enero, Para el amigo sincero Que me da su mano franca. Y para el cruel que me arranca El corazon con que vivo, Cardo ni oruga cultivo Cultivo una rosa blanca. I have a white rose to tend In July as in January; I give it to the true friend Who offers his frank hand to me. And to the cruel one whose blows Break the heart by which I live, Thistle nor thorn do I give: For him, too, I have a white rose.

He stops, looks up at this window, and I can see the white oblong of his face. We look at each other. I have no rose to toss, he has no lute. But it's the same kind of hunger.

Do thou smile like the rose at loss and gain; For the rose, though its petals be torn asunder, Still smiles on, and it is never cast down.

She was white, perhaps too white. Her eyes, which were almost always cast down, when she raised them testified to the purest of souls, and when she smiled, revealing her small, white teeth, one might be tempted to say that a rose is merely a plant, and ivory just an elephant's tusk.

Hope is like a harebell, trembling from its birth,Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth,Faith is like a lily, lifted high and white,Love is like a lovely rose, the world's delight.Harebells and sweet lilies show a thornless growth,But the rose with all its thorns excels them both.

The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose.

They've changed the name from white supremacy to white separatists, to white nationalists, to alt-right. It's the same thing. A rose by any other name is still a rose.

Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now.

Consider the rose...The rose is the sweetest smelling flower of all, and it's the most beautiful because it's the most simple, right? But sometimes, you got to clip the rose. You got to cut the rose back, so something sweeter smelling and stronger, and even more beautiful, will grow in its place

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME WILL SMELL AS SWEET. BUT IT DOES NOT FOLLOW THAT WHATEVER WE CHOOSE TO CALL A ROSE WILL POSSESS THE ROSE'S FRAGRANCE.

You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me.

Visualize a beautiful rose in the center of your chest. Imagine a soft reddish rose. Imagine that the rose is completely folded up. Visualize the first set of petals is gradually unfolding.

Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.

In a bouquet of mixed roses, most people can distinguish at a glance the delicacy of a tea rose from the voluptuousness of a cabbage rose, but how many could so readily differentiate between the tea rose's scent of freshly harvested tea and the spicy, honeylike, rich floral scent of the cabbage?

It had not seemed to matter that Rose was only eight years old. "More than eight," said Rose. "Nearly nine." "Darling Rose, even almost nearly nine-year-old's don't fall in love," said forgetful Caddy. Caddy tried very hard to comfort Rose when Tom had left. It was not an easy job. It was like trying to comfort a small, unhappy tiger. "Who said anything about falling in love?" growled Rose crossly. "Falling! Falling is by accident! I didn't fall in anything!" "Oh. Right. Sorry, Posy Rose." "And I am definitely not in love!

A rose looks grey at midnight, but the flame is just asleep. And steel is strong because it knows the hammer and white heat.

The White House encouraged Tom Brady to be more of a role model. They would've said more, but there was a drunken Secret Service agent streaking across the Rose Garden.

Jack: Rose! You're so stupid. Why did you do that, huh? You're so stupid, Rose. Why did you do that? Why? Rose: You jump, I jump, right? Jack: Right. Rose: Oh God! I couldn't go. I couldn't go, Jack. Jack: It's all right. We'll think of something. Rose: At least I'm with you.

Before man's fall the rose was born,St. Ambrose says, without the thorn;But for man's fault then was the thornWithout the fragrant rose-bud born; But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

The ladies of St. James's! They're painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,-- It wavers to a rose.

...the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders who gave the explanation in a trembling voice: “It’s the ghost!

Yet, O thou beautiful rose! Queen rose so fair and sweet. What were lover or crown to thee, without the clay at thy feet?

Observe this dew-drenched rose of Tyrian gardens A rose today. But you will ask in vain Tomorrow what it is; and yesterday It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains.

Most of the time when "universal" is used, it's just a euphamism for "white"; white themes, white significance, white culture.

The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is, and so's The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose - But were always a rose.

I think Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about a robin who loved a white rose. He loved it so much that he pierced his breast and let his heart's blood turn the white rose red. Maybe this sounds very sentimental, but for anybody who has loved a career as much as I've loved mine, there can be no short cuts.

My real name is Amanda Rose Saccomanno, so a lot of people don't know that, but Rose is kind of special in my family as my grandma's name is Rosemary, my mom's name is Mary Rose, I'm Amanda Rose, my niece is Demi Rose.

Dimitri: "Rose, I'm seven years older than you. In ten years, that won't mean so much, but for now, it's huge. I'm an adult. You're a child.” Rose: "You didn't seem to think I was a child when you were all over me.” - Rose Hathaway & Dimitri Belikov (Vampire Academy)

Jesse: " Hey Rose, welcome back. Still breaking hearts?" Rose: " Are you volunteering?

Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.

There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear; I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait."

A rose will smell as sweet by any other name, but it must be the rose of liberty that I want and not the artificial product.

That was all Rose, and Rose knew what she was doing. Her main thing was story.

I love cocktails. My specialty drink is a gimlet with a little egg white in it so it gets frothy. I really like rose water - sometimes I'll add it to champagne.

Now the autumn shudders In the rose's root. Far and wide the ladders Lean among the fruit. Now the autumn clambers Up the trellised frame, And the rose remembers The dust from which it came. Brighter than the blossom On the rose's bough Sits the wizened orange, Bitter berry now; Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.

La Vie En Rose. It is the French way of saying, 'I am looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses.'

The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove.

Come near; I would, before my time to go, Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.

The budding rose above the rose full blown.

When I said. A rose is a rose is a rose. And then later made that into a ring I made poetry and what did I do I caressed completely caressed and addressed a noun.

Rose: Look at you, beaming away like you're Father Christmas! The Doctor: Who says I'm not, red-bicycle-when-you-were-twelve? Rose: [shocked] What? The Doctor: And everybody lives, Rose! Everybody lives! I need more days like this! Go on, ask me anything; I'm on fire!