39 Quotes About Dandelions
- Author Marty Rubin
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There are no gods, thank god, but there are dandelions. Go out and pick some.
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- Author Mahesh Mali
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Those cotton dandelions wafting on the breeze, Are nothing but the immigrants passing through these trees. Spreading their wings, With all their might, To make their kids (seeds) enjoy their flight!
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- Author Holly Black
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... on the lawn one late summer day, her pale hair tangled because she'd cry if anyone tried to brush it, spinning around and around until she got so dizzy she fell in a pile of bare feet and dandelions and sundress.
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- Author Suzy Kassem
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I am born as the sun,But then turn into the moon,As my blonde hairs turnGrayish-white and fall toThe ground,Only to be buried again,Then to be born again,Into a thousand sunsAnd a thousand moons.HYMN OF THE DIVINE DANDELION by Suzy KassemCopyright 1993-1994 - A SPRING FOR WISDOM
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- Author V.S. Carnes
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The blood dried on his good hand, he passed his palm over her hair. It curled about his wrist and sprung back into displace as the breeze fluttered by. In the firelight, it was golden like the dandelions of which she’d spoken. The ones that had grown along the Franklin riverbank in late summer. The ones he had lost any faith in since he’d committed his first murder there.
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- Author Marty Rubin
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Dandelions spring up where civilizations have been destroyed.
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- Author Richelle E. Goodrich
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Dare to imagine. Dare to be. Books are the seeds. Dreams are the soil. The fruit of the harvest, a world reborn.
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- Author Richelle E. Goodrich
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The interruption did nothing but earn her a similar slap, as I’m sure she knew it would. Sometimes I wondered if my mother spoke up at the wrong time on purpose. As often as we endured my father’s abuse, she had to be aware that it wouldn’t save me from a beating but simply earn her one as well. Or was it that sharing my fate made her feel less guilt-ridden about those things that happened to me?
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- Author Richelle E. Goodrich
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He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time. “Answer me, you good-for-nuthin’ wench!” The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.
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