Every rose has its thorn. [ Proverb ]
A sadder and a wiser man.
He rose the morrow morn. [ Coleridge ]
No rose without a prickle. [ Proverb ]
Plant a white rose at my feet,
Or a lily fair and sweet,
With the humble mignonette
And the blue-eyed violet. [ Julia C. R. Dorr, Earth to Earth ]
Die of a rose in aromatic pain. [ Pope ]
Never the rose without the thorn. [ Robert Herrick ]
We wander there, we wander here,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
Unmindful that the thorn is near,
Amang the leaves. [ Burns ]
We taste the fragrance of the rose. [ Akenside ]
Yet, no - not words, for they
But half can tell love's feeling;
Sweet flowers alone can say
What passion fears revealing:
A once bright rose's wither'd leaf,
A tow'ring lily broken -
Oh, these may paint a grief
No words could ever have spoken. [ Moore ]
Underneath large blue-bells tented
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not. [ Keats ]
Live, live today; tomorrow never yet
On any human being rose or set. [ Marsden ]
He wears the rose of youth upon him. [ William Shakespeare ]
What mighty woes
To thy imperial race from woman rose. [ Homer ]
The fairest rose at last is withered. [ Proverb ]
Yet, all beneath the unrivalled rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
His army shade,
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade. [ Burns ]
A fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation. [ Milton ]
Silently as a dream the fabric rose;
No sound of hammer or of saw was there. [ Cowper ]
Not more the rose, the queen of flowers,
Outblushes all the bloom of bower,
Than she unrivalled grace discloses;
The sweetest rose, where all are roses. [ Moore ]
It rose, that chanted mournful strain,
Like some lone spirit's over the plain;
'Twas musical, but sadly sweet,
Such as when winds and harp-strings meet,
And take a long unmeasured tone,
To mortal minstrelsy unknown. [ Byron ]
Behold the Sea,
The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
Yet beautiful as is the rose in June,
Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July;
Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds,
Purger of earth, and medicine of men;
Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
Washing out harms and griefs from memory,
And, in my mathematic ebb and flow,
Giving a hint of that which changes not. [ Emerson ]
The flower she touched on dipped and rose. [ Tennyson ]
Within the rose I found a trembling tear,
Close curtained in a gloom of crimson night
By tender petals from the outer light. [ Boyesen ]
He bore a simple wild-flower wreath:
Narcissus, and the sweet brier rose;
Vervain, and flexile thyme, that breathe
Rich fragrance; modest heath, that glows
With purple bells; the amaranth bright.
That no decay, nor fading knows.
Like true love's holiest, rarest light;
And every purest flower, that blows,
In that sweet time, which Love most blesses,
When spring on summer's confines presses. [ Thomas Love Peacock ]
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier
For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed. [ Keats ]
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy, -
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is not hand, nor foot.
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose.
By any other name would smell as sweet. [ William Shakespeare ]
The daisy is fair, the day-lily rare,
The bud of the rose as sweet as it's bonnie. [ Hogg ]
I did not fall into love - I rose into love. [ Bulwer ]
The rose will bloom when the storm is passed. [ Robert Browning ]
Our dangers and delights are near allies.
From the same stem the rose and prickle rise. [ Aleyn ]
Let us fill urns with rose-leaves in our May,
And hive the thrifty sweetness for December. [ Holland ]
The rose saith in the dewy morn,
I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn. [ Christina G. Rossetti ]
The honey-bee that wanders all day long
The field, the woodland, and the garden over.
To gather in his fragrant winter store.
Humming in calm content his winter song,
Seeks not alone the rose's glowing breast,
The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips.
But from all rank and noxious weeds he sips
The single drop of sweetness closely pressed
Within the poison chalice. [ Anne C. Lynch Botta ]
The rosy-fingered morn did there disclose
Her beauty, ruddy as a blushing bride,
Gilding the marigold, painting the rose,
With Indian chrysolites her cheeks were dyed. [ Baron ]
O, how much more doth Beauty beauteous seem.
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem,
For that sweet odor which doth in it live. [ William Shakespeare ]
And half in shade and half in sun;
The rose sat in her bower,
With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart. [ Bayard Taylor ]
The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time:
The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime:
White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay,
And white snow in minutes melts away. [ Dryden ]
The rose is fairest when it is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. [ Sir Walter Scott ]
A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded. [ Byron ]
The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me;
The lilies and roses were all awake.
They sighed for the dawn and thee. [ Tennyson ]
Her form was fresher than the morning rose
When the dew wets its leaves; unstained and pure
As is the lily, or the mountain snow. [ Thomson ]
What would the rose with all her pride be worth.
Were there no sun to call her brightness forth? [ Moore ]
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere;
Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough;
Sweet is the eglantine, but sticketh nere;
Sweet is the firbloome, but its branches rough;
Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough;
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
[ Spenser ]
'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone. [ Moore ]
Better be stung by a nettle than pricked by a rose. [ Proverb ]
And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air. [ Byron ]
Proud be the rose, with rain and dews her head impearling. [ Wordsworth ]
The rose was budded in her cheek, just opening to the view. [ Mallet ]
Every rose is an autograph from the hand of the Almighty God. [ Theodore Parker ]
The rose is wont with pride to swell, and ever seeks to rise. [ Goethe ]
The splash and stir of fountains spouted up and showering down
In meshes of the jasmine and the rose:
And all about us peal'd the nightingale,
Rapt in her song, and careless of the snare. [ Tennyson ]
The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence. [ N. P. Willis ]
The gathered rose and the stolen heart can charm but for a day. [ Emma C. Embury ]
To do good to the ungrateful, is to throw rose-water into the sea. [ Proverb ]
Happy are they who can create a rose-tree, or erect a honeysuckle. [ Gray ]
The fountain of love is the rose and the lily, the sun and the dove. [ Heinrich Heine ]
When love came first to earth, the spring spread rose-beds to receive him. [ Campbell ]
The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower. [ Bryant ]
The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago.
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood.
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men.
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade and glen. [ Bryant ]
All June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves. [ Robert Browning ]
The tear down childhood's cheek that flows is like the dew-drop on the rose. [ Sir Walter Scott ]
The wit of men compared to that of women is like rouge compared to the rose. [ Saint Foix ]
The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose. [ William Shakespeare ]
When we desire to confine our words, we commonly say they are spoken under the rose. [ Sir Thomas Browne ]
The nightingale, their only vesperbell, sung sweetly to the rose the day's farewell. [ Byron ]
Rose of the desert! thus should woman be Shining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee. [ Moore ]
Love is like the rose: so sweet, that one always tries to gather it in spite of the thorns.
A faint blush melting through the light of thy transparent cheek like a rose-leaf bathed in dew. [ Whittier ]
When a man can look upon the simple wild-rose, and feel no pleasure, his taste has been corrupted. [ Beecher ]
Gothic architecture rose, it was partly in consequence of diseased love of change that it was destroyed. [ Ruskin ]
Mild May's eldest child, the coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. [ Keats ]
Marble, pearl, rose, dove, all may disappear: the pearl melts, the marble breaks, the rose fades, the bird escapes. [ T. Gautier ]
The heart of a coquette is like a rose, of which the lovers pluck the leaves, leaving only the thorns for the husband.
Love sees what no eye sees; hears what no ear hears; and what never rose in the heart of man love prepares for its object. [ Lavater ]
Music was a thing of the soul; a rose-lipped shell that murmured of the eternal sea; a strange bird singing the songs of another shore. [ J. G. Holland ]
Before the birth of Love, many fearful things took place through the empire of Necessity; but when this god was born, all things rose to men. [ Socrates ]
Poetry and flowers are the wine and spirit of The Arab; a couplet is equal to a bottle, and a rose to a dram, without the evil effects of either. [ Layard ]
What a pity flowers can utter no sound! A singing rose, a whispering violet, a murmuring honeysuckle - oh, what a rare and exquisite miracle would these be! [ Beecher ]
When the Divine Artist would produce a poem, He plants a germ of it in a human soul, and out of that soul the poem springs and grows as from the rose-tree the rose [ James A. Garfield ]
He was a kind and thankful toad, whose heart dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer; and whose spirits rose with eating, as some men's do with drink. [ Washington Irving ]
He laid him down and slept, and from his side a woman in her magic beauty rose: dazzled and charmed, he called that woman bride,
and his first sleep became his last repose. [ Besser ]
Grief is a flower as delicate and prompt to fade as happiness. Still, it does not wholly die. Like the magic rose, dried and unrecognizable, a warm air breathed on it will suffice to renew its bloom. [ Mme. de Gasparin ]
Feelings are always purest and most glowing in the hour of meeting and farewell; like the glaciers, which are transparent and rose-hued only at sunrise and sunset, but throughout the day grey and cold. [ Jean Paul ]
Every rose is an autograph from the hand of the Almighty God on this world about us; he has inscribed his thoughts in these marvelous hieroglyphics which sense and science have been these many thousand years seeking to understand. [ T. Parker ]
But there have been human hearts, constituted just like ours, for six thousand years. The same stars rise and set upon this globe that rose upon the plains of Shinar or along the Egyptian Nile and the same sorrows rise and set in every age. [ Beecher ]
He who boasts of being perfect is perfect in folly. I never saw a perfect man. Every rose has its thorns, and every day its night. Even the sun shows spots, and the skies are darkened with clouds; and faults of some kind nestle in every bosom. [ Spurgeon ]
Love one human being with warmth and purity, and thou wilt love the world. The heart, in that celestial sphere of love, is like the sun in its course. From the drop on the rose to the ocean, all is for him a mirror, which he fills and brightens. [ Jean Paul ]
Is there anything more beautiful than a beautiful, beautiful flamingo, flying across in front of a beautiful sunset? And he's carrying a very beautiful rose in his beak, and also he's carrying a very beautiful painting with his feet. And also, you're drunk. [ Jack Handey, Deep Thoughts ]
As the rose-tree is composed of the sweetest flowers, and the sharpest thorns; as the heavens are sometimes overcast — alternately tempestuous and serene — so is the life of man intermingled with hopes and fears, with joys and sorrows, with pleasures and with pains. [ Burton ]
In the use of the tongue God hath distinguished us from beasts, and by the well or ill using it we are distinguished from one another; and therefore, though silence be innocent as death, harmless as a rose's breath to a distant passenger, yet it is rather the state of death than life. [ Jeremy Taylor ]
Joy wholly from without, is false, precarious, and short. From without it may be gathered; but, like gathered flowers, though fair, and sweet for a season, it must soon wither, and become offensive. Joy from within is like smelling the rose on the tree; it is more sweet and fair, it is lasting; and, I must add, immortal. [ Young ]
Poetry deserves the honor it obtains as the eldest offspring of literature, and the fairest. It is the fruitfulness of many plants growing into one flower and sowing itself over the world in shapes of beauty and color, which differ with the soil that receives and the sun that ripens the seed. In Persia, it comes up the rose of Hafiz; in England, the many-blossomed tree of Shakespeare. [ Willmott ]
There is a world of science necessary in choosing books. I have known some people in great sorrow fly to a novel, or the last light book in fashion. One might as well take a rose-draught for the plague! Light reading does not do when the heart is really heavy. I am told that Goethe, when he lost his son, took to study a science that was new to him. Ah! Goethe was a physician who knew what he was about. [ Edward Bulwer-Lytton ]
We must have books for recreation and entertainment, as well as books for instruction and for business; the former are agreeable, the latter useful, and the human mind requires both. The cannon law and the codes of Justinian shall have due honor, and reign at the universities; but Homer and Virgil need not therefore be banished. We will cultivate the olive and the vine, but without eradicating the myrtle and the rose. [ Balzac ]
Irony is an insult conveyed in the form of a compliment placing its victim naked on a bed of briars and bristles, thinly covered with rose-leaves, adorning his brow with a crown of gold, which burns into his brain; teasing, and fretting, and riddling him through and through with incessant discharges of hot shot from a masked battery; laying bare the most sensitive and shrinking nerves of his mind, and then blandly touching them with ice, or smilingly pricking them with needles. [ E. P. Whipple ]
Mother! How many delightful associations cluster around that word! The innocent smiles of infancy, the gambols of boyhood, and the happiest hours of riper years! When my heart aches and my limbs are weary travelling the thorny path of life, I sit down on some mossy stone, and closing my eyes on real scenes, send my spirit back to the days of early life; I feel afresh my infant joys and sorrows, till my spirit recovers its tone, and is willing to pursue its journey. But in all these reminiscences my mother rises; if I seat myself upon my cushion, it is at her side; if I sing, it is to her ear; if I walk the walls or the meadows, my little hand is in my mother's, and my little feet keep company with hers; when my heart bounds with its best joy, it is because at the performance of some task, or the recitation of some verses, I receive a present from her hand. There is no velvet so soft as a mother's lap, no rose so lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with her footsteps. [ Bishop Thomson ]