Pastoral Resources

For myself I hold no preferences among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous. Bricks to all greenhouses! Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!

I abhor a hoe. I am fond of flowers but not of dirt, and had rather buy them than cultivate them.

What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but scattered along life's pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.

As in the rankest soil the most beautiful flowers are grown, so in the dark soil of poverty the choicest flowers of humanity have developed and bloomed.

I take care of my flowers and my cats. And enjoy food. And that's living.

I couldn't have found a better man than Brad. He still opens doors for me and brings me flowers. He's the sweetest goofball on the planet.

There are strange flowers of reason to match each error of the senses.

The ballet is a purely female thing; it is a woman, a garden of beautiful flowers, and man is the gardener.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.

Their elegant shape, showy colours, and slow, sailing mode of flight, make them very attractive objects, and their numbers are so great that they form quite a feature in the physiognomy of the forest, compensating for the scarcity of flowers.

I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded hill, which is now covered with wooden crosses and lines of graves instead of spring flowers.

The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy.

Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into.

Stretching his hand up to reach the stars, too often man forgets the flowers at his feet.

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

The mare set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently. I never had dreamed of such a motion, fluent and graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but swift as the summer lightening.

My movie is born first in my head, dies on paper; is resuscitated by the living persons and real objects I use, which are killed on film but, placed in a certain order and projected on to a screen, come to life again like flowers in water.

I also like to garden. I grow things, vegetables, flowers... I particularly like orchids. I raise orchids.

A fox is a wolf who sends flowers.