101 Quotes About Roses Life, Love and Thorns:- as per your curiosity and demand our team bring some very special quotes about Roses Life, Love and Thorns.
which give you soothing touch your heart by word hope you enjoy and find yourself relax.
The roses are one of the most beautiful and stylish that nature nature has given us. These flowers are universally known as a symbol of love, beauty and perfection.
In Greek mythology, the rose was the flower connected to Venus, becoming one of the most characteristic signs. In the history of literature it is the flower that most of all has inspired poetic compositions, but also numerous aphorisms and quotations.
Here is a selection of the most beautiful phrases about roses which underline their incredible grace. Discover them now!
It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
Throw away
any work in verse or prose.
Nobody has ever been able to say
what a rose is in its essence.
Pick the rose when it’s time,
because you know time that flies …
and the same flower that blossoms
tomorrow will wilt.
We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.
Everything that happens is as usual and familiar as roses in spring and the harvest in autumn.
A rose doesn’t need to preach. It merely spreads its perfume.
The rose is without ‘why’; it blooms simply because it blooms. It pays no attention to itself, nor does it ask whether anyone sees it.
A sponge to erase the past, a rose to sweeten the present and a kiss to greet the future.
I have never been able to understand if beautiful people have an innate tendency to grow roses or if it is roses in their growth that make people beautiful.
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
If your kiss has the heat of the sun,
the rose will give you all its perfume.
When you are in pessimism, look at a rose.
It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more roses.
The rose is without why: it blooms because it blooms,
does not mind itself, does not ask if you see it.
The rose speaks of love silently, in a language that includes only the heart.
Life is full of paradoxes, as roses are of thorns.
I would water the roses with my tears to feel the pain of their thorns and the red kiss of their petals.
Nothing is known, everything is imagined.
Surround yourself with roses, love, drink,
and be quiet. The rest is nothing.
I, love, I am the pure acetylene virgin attended by roses.
Why, believe me, has nobody sent me so far
A perfect limousine?
Ah, no, it is from me always to receive
A perfect rose.
I will stop loving you only when a deaf painter will be able to paint the sound of a rose petal falling on a crystal floor of a castle that never existed.
Love thou rose, yet leave it on its stem.
There is no rose without thorns. – But there are several thorns without roses!
Because nothing I call this immense universe
except you, my rose; in it you are my everything.
But he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.
What remains of all travel is the scent of a dried rose.
My kiss has the breath of red roses,
petal that melts on the mouth.
The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.
Live, if you want to believe me, don’t wait for tomorrow. Collect the roses of life today.
The rose is like a fresh heart that cannot keep closed and wants to open up. And if you look at it, you always discover something surprising.
Love is a rose, every petal an illusion, every thorn a reality.
You were born yesterday, you will die tomorrow, / who created you for such a short life?
But those who dare not grab the thorn should never desire the rose.
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
Her love is a pale and dying rose Which loses its petals …
The rose is without why: it blooms because it blooms,
does not mind itself, does not ask if you see it.
She who loves roses must be patient and not cry out when she is pierced by thorns.
And so forever each pearl of the sea copies the first pearl, and each rose copies the first rose.
The most beautiful gift we can receive in this life is that of the clarity of a rose.
I will soothe you and heal you, I will bring you roses. I too have been covered with thorns.
I don’t want a rose at Christmas any more than the snow may want in May: I like everything that ripens when it’s season.
I would like to be you, so violent
so harsh with love,
so lit with veins of beauty
and so chastised.
No rose without a thorn but many a thorn without a rose.
The gardener is the most beautiful rose in his garden.
I don’t like the roses
I didn’t pick. I don’t like the things
that could have been and haven’t been.
No time to grieve for roses when the forests are burning.
Is there such a fine ear that you can hear the sighs of the wilting rose?
I would water the roses with my tears to feel the pain of their thorns and the red kiss of their petals.
Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
A rose, it’s a rose, it’s a rose.
What remains of all travel is the scent of a dried rose.
Someday you will name me, then gently place those burning holy roses in my hair.
It’s a fate of thorns trying to enjoy the rose
What’s in a name? What we call by the name of rose, even if we call it by another name, would still retain the same sweet scent.
Gather the rose of love whilst still is time.
Summer is no less characterized by its flies and mosquitoes than by its roses and starry nights.
I prefer to have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.
He who wants a rose must respect her thorn.
The rose speaks of love silently, in a language that includes only the heart.
If Zeus wanted to donate a kingdom to flowers, the rose would reign over everyone.
The rose and the thorn, and sorrow and gladness are linked together.
Sprinkle the lover’s bed with roses to keep it on thorns.
It is the time that you have wasted for your rose that has made your rose so important.
Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet.
Roses perfume by trade.
But she was from that world where the most beautiful things
have the worst fate,
And pink, she lived what roses live
The space of a morning
Life is a rose where each petal is an illusion and every thorn a reality.
When you are in pessimism, look at a rose.
The rose is without why, it blooms because it blooms, without worrying about itself, without the desire to be seen.
The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculpted flower.
The optimist sees the rose and not the thorns; the pessimist is fixed on the thorns, forgetful of the rose.
For the love of a rose, the gardener is a servant of a thousand thorns
There were crimson roses on the bench; they looked like splashes of blood.
There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than painting a rose, because first of all he must forget all the other roses that have been painted.
It’s madness to hate all roses because a thorn has stung you, abandon all dreams because one of them has not come true, give up all attempts because one has failed.
I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.
Having prose a letter too many, the rose chose poetry.
The rose has its thorns, and for this reason the rose is the flower of love.
I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.
We can complain because rose gardens have thorns or rejoice because thorny bushes have roses. It depends on your point of view.
We can complain because rose gardens have thorns or rejoice because thorny bushes have roses. It depends on your point of view.
An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.
Once a rose was named and it flattered me. However, I was not pleased to read the description in the catalog: “it is not good in a bed, but it is good against a wall”.
Roses cannot be ugly.
Roses are bright even when they wilt.
God has given us the memory, so we can have roses even in December.
Sometimes the rose blushes from the vase.
Marriage is similar to life in this, which is a battlefield, not a bed of roses.
It’s a fate of thorns trying to enjoy the rose
In front of the faded rose, even those who previously adored its buds on their knees are blocked.
A thorn is also welcome when you expect to see a rose.
My kiss has the breath of red roses,
petal that melts on the mouth.
Is there such a fine ear that you can hear the sighs of the wilting rose?
I will stop loving you only when a deaf painter will be able to paint the sound of a rose petal falling on a crystal floor of a castle that never existed.
There is no rose without thorns. – But there are several thorns without roses!
Remembering love is like evoking a scent of roses in a cellar. One can recall the image of a rose, but not its perfume.
Life is a rose where every petal is an illusion and every thorn a reality.
Man is harder than iron, more solid than rock, but more fragile than a rose.
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