There was something frantic in their blooming, as if they knew that frost was near and then the bitter cold. They’d lived through all the heat and noise and stench of summertime, and now each widely opened flower was like a triumphant cry, “We will, we will make seed before we die.”
-Harriette Simpson Arnow
Select a background
More quotes by Harriette Simpson Arnow
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.