Quotes About Rose

Jack: Rose! You're so stupid. Why did you do that, huh? You're so stupid, Rose. Why did you do that? Why? Rose: You jump, I jump, right? Jack: Right. Rose: Oh God! I couldn't go. I couldn't go, Jack. Jack: It's all right. We'll think of something. Rose: At least I'm with you.

The artist draws a picture of a rose very nicely with all attention and artistic sense, and yet it does not become as perfect as the real rose. If that is the real fact, how can we say that the real rose has taken its shape without Intelligence behind the beauty?

Dimitri: "Rose, I'm seven years older than you. In ten years, that won't mean so much, but for now, it's huge. I'm an adult. You're a child.” Rose: "You didn't seem to think I was a child when you were all over me.” - Rose Hathaway & Dimitri Belikov (Vampire Academy)

Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.

Max Rose: Vo? What kind of name is that? Spader: What kind of name is Rose? Isn't that some kind of flower?

Does a rose exist that I might behold it? Or do I exist that a rose might be beheld?

I think that's why August [Wilson] named her Rose [in "Fences"]; I really do. She's a rose in her sweetness and her kindness and in everything else, even her anger towards the end.

He stepped back and threw his arms out. "I'm always crazy around you Rose. Here, I'm going to write an impromptu poem for you." He tipped his head back and shouted to the sky: "Rose is in red But never in blue Sharp as a thorn Fights like one too.

Life is a mess, Rose said. You can fix the mess human beings make, Rose said, But you can't fix the mess being human is.

Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.

Jesse: " Hey Rose, welcome back. Still breaking hearts?" Rose: " Are you volunteering?

What a time herbs and weeds, and such things could talk, A man in his garden one day did walk, Spying a nettle green (as th'emeraude) spread in a bed of roses like the ruby red. Between which two colors he thought, but his eye, The green nettle did the red rose beautify. "How be it," he asked the nettle, "what thing Made him so pert? So nigh the Rose to Spring.

A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks: “Aren’t you tired of waiting?” “Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.

And if you are a rose, I am rose-shadow.

The future rose up ahead of her, a succession of empty days, each more daunting and unknowable than the one before her.

About midnight the fog shut down again denser than before. One could almost "stand on it." It continued so for a number of days, the wind increasing to a gale. The waves rose high, but I had a good ship. Still, in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into loneliness, an insect on the straw in the midst of the elements.

Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damn'd ill luck every way.

I want my body to help fertilize the growth of a cactus or cliff rose or sagebrush or tree.

Song is not Truth, not Wisdom, but the rose Upon Truths lips, the light in Wisdom's eyes.

The pressure was always there, but I feel like it was almost invisible to me. I had too much going on once I got rolling with Evolution and won my first title. They say the cream rises to the top, and I felt like the cream. I rose to the top real quick, and I was surrounded by Triple H, Ric Flair, Shawn Michaels, Undertaker, these guys who were very well respected in the profession, and they wanted to work with me.

Love, I would later conclude, was all things to all people. Love was the breaking and healing of hearts. Love was misunderstood, love was faith, love was the promise of now that became hope for the future. Love was a rhythm, a resonance, a reverberation. Love was awkward and foolish, it was aggressive and simple and possessed of so many indefinable qualities it could never be conveyed in language. Love was being. The same gravity that relentlessly pulled at me was defied as I rose into something that became everything.

His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: 'I'm coming Mr. Frodo!

The wit of men compared to that of women is like rouge compared to the rose.

Two hundred years ago the forces of freedom challenged this idea. The children of the new enlightenment rose up to defy the tyranny of arrogant clergy and the censorship of pious bureaucrats. They boldly proclaimed that the state must be free from religious coercion and that religion must be free from state control. All individuals have the right to pursue the dictates of their own conscience. All citizens even have the right not to be religious at all.

How did writing come to me? Like bird’s down on my windowpane, in winter. Just then there rose in the heart a struggle of firebrands, which has, still now, not ended.

I like BBC news, I like some London news because you can get it earlier then anywhere else. I like Charlie Rose a lot.

There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's.

What are you listening to?" "I picked up a DVD for Luke while I was out. Something with Mozart and sock puppets." A grin rose to my lips. "At this stage I don't think Luke can see more than ten inches beyond his face." "That explains his lack of interest. I thought maybe he preferred Beethoven.

I had taken on the color of the climate around me and had driven back all the emotion that rose from the Brooklyn streets so that I could belong to the exclusive club of Congress.

Jesus rose from the grave and you, you can't even get out of bed.

I think it takes an amazing amount of energy to convince oneself that the Forever Person isn't just around the corner. In the end I believe we never do convince ourselves. I know that I found it increasingly hard to maintain the pose of emotional self-sufficiency lying on my bed and sitting at my desk, watching the gulls cartwheeling in the clouds over the bridges, cradling myself in my own arms, breathing warm chocolate-and-vodka breath on a rose I had found on a street corner, trying to force it to bloom.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire set In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.

The first man who compared woman to a rose was a poet; the second, an imbecile.

I did great things in the theater. I did some nice roles, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly or La Vie en Rose. And I love my role in Frantic.

Which is weird. But not the craziest thing I can think of Rose doing.ʺ I appreciated the support.

He exhaled loudly and raked a hand through the sable brown hair he always kept stylishly messy. "Look, Rose. You don’t have to keep up with the hard-to-get thing. You’ve already got me.

The truth hurts like a thorn at first; but in the end it blossoms like a rose.

I think Gypsy [Rose Lee] would be appalled at today's rawer, more blatant displays of the female form. She was, in her own way, a prude.

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there right then in that moment before the sun rose and the hospital staff came in. It was about touching that hair with the side of his fingertip, and knowing yet plumbing fearlessly the depths of her ocean eyes.

Whenever the world throws rose petals at you, which thrill and seduce the ego, beware.

I try to take off the rose-colored glasses and view it in all facets, but I probably would be lying if I didn't say that probably the way in for a film with me is the performance. But I have been on juries where you have to give Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography. So you do have to put on several different hats and I try to broaden my scope. And what's great is, when you're in a room full of people who are not your milieu, so to speak, you find yourself speaking in a way that you do discover a slightly discerning eye.

My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unknown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I exhaled into the promise of more to come, calling it to me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn’t care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was.

Was I insane? Maybe. But then, there were many different kinds of insanity. Aunt Rose had always taken for granted that the whole world was in a state of constantly fluctuating madness, and that a neurosis was not an illness, but a fact of life, like pimples. Some have more, some have less, but only truly abnormal people have none at all. This commonsense philosophy had consoled me many times before, and it did now, too.

Numquam enim audiendi quod aliquis monachus super puerum incubuisset, quin statim post ipsum surrexisset puer. I have heard before of a monk throwing himself on a boy, but the boyalways rose again afterwards.

White folks are the luckiest people: Finally a black president and he's a behaved one. Went to the best schools, best colleges, never raises his voice. I ran for president in 1968. I tell (audiences) if I won, I would have dug up the Rose Garden and planted watermelon!

I have amethyst geodes by my meditation - yoga room and large rose quartz throughout my back garden.

There is no end to the petals of the inner rose. Continue to unfold set after set of petals until you have completed your meditation session.