742 Quotes About Flowers

Why're you painting grass?" he asked one day in her kitchen."I'm painting their flowers."He laughed. "Grass doesn't have flowers.""Of course they do. See those blossoms. They're tiny, but beautiful. Each grass species has a different flower or inflorescence.

One who lives in the garden of colourful flowers, it never becomes the fool from the dried and artificial flowers.

She's seen women on the street with flowers behind their ears, along the road, in stores, on their way home from the fields carrying baskets of cassava, the yellowish white root that's used in every meal. She's seen the red hibiscus, the bulging ginger blossom, the bewitchingly aromatic frangipani behind the ears of men too, but she wasn't aware of this secret code for courting.

She holds the acceptance letter in her hand; the sweet smell of the bird cherry tree wafts in through the open kitchen window. Her mother's apron is covered in black and purple flowers. Maya shuts her eyes, breathes in the spicy aroma of bird cherry blossoms.

Maybe Sina could plant some flowers? Ginger flowers and yellow allamanda. Bird-of-paradise flower. Delicate frangipani.

She's worked alongside him as they built their house on the vacant lot behind the sweet house and cultivated a small but fertile patch of cassava and sweet potatoes. Along the side wall of the house, a paradise of colors: tender pink hibiscus, fiery flamingo flowers, delicate purple orchids, and plump, juicy red protea.

Clustered everywhere were low-growing bushes covered in dazzling pink flowers and above them the yellow of the wattle."Boronia ledifolia."How personable and attentive he was, with his ruffled hair and a half smile of amusement hovering on his lips. "I'm sorry?""The pink bushes, and above us Acacia, and those big red flowers over there."She turned and gazed at the densely packed red flowers bright as Indian rubies against the bush. "Waratah Telopea.

Primarily, Fyrian decided to occupy himself in the collection of flowers for the baby, a process hindered by his occasional hiccups and sneezes, each with its requisite dollops of flame, and each reducing his flowers to ashes. But he hardly noticed.

At the top was a delightful alpine heath with short golden-green grass and scads of beautiful pink and purple flowers that Alice decided not to study more closely. Even though at second glance it became obvious that the glorious sunlight wasn't sparkling off their dew but the petals themselves: each blossom was a jewel, or maybe glass, and chimed gently in the wind.