Blossom Quotes

“THE WEATHER OF LOVE


Love
Has a way of wilting
Or blossoming
At the strangest,
Most unpredictable hour.
This is how love is,
An uncontrollable beast
In the form of a flower.
The sun does not always shine on it.
Nor does the rain always pour on it
Nor should it always get beaten by a storm.
Love does not always emit the sweetest scents,
And sometimes it can sting with its thorns.
Water it.
Give it plenty of sunlight.
Nurture it,
And the flower of love will
Outlive you.
Neglect it or keep dissecting it,
And its petals will quickly curl up and die.
This is how love is,
Perfection is a delusional vision.
So love the person who loves you
Unconditionally,
And abandon the one
Who only loves you
Under favorable
Conditions.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“When an incidental color or a random fragrance takes possession of our imagination, we can unexpectedly blossom into a new entity as it gives us wings and enlightens our horizon, just like canary birds that feel stimulated and start singing as soon as they sense the radiance of the sun through the reflection of the skylight. (‘"Côté cour…Côté jardin" )”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)”
― Tim Willocks, The Religion

“Roses do not bloom hurriedly; for beauty, like any masterpiece, takes time to blossom.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“They blossomed, they did not talk about blossoming.”
― Dejan Stojanovic, The Sun Watches the Sun

“A flower does not use words to announce its arrival to the world; it just blooms.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“If you use a philosophy education well, you can get your foot in the door of any industry you please. Industries are like the blossoms on a tree while philosophy is the trunk - it holds the tree together, but it often goes unnoticed.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

“. . . at this season, the blossom is out in full now, there in the west early. It's a plum tree, it looks like apple blossom but it's white, and looking at it, instead of saying "Oh that's nice blossom" ... last week looking at it through the window when I'm writing, I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it. Things are both more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial and the important doesn't seem to matter. But the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous, and if people could see that, you know. There's no way of telling you; you have to experience it, but the glory of it, if you like, the comfort of it, the reassurance ... not that I'm interested in reassuring people - bugger that. The fact is, if you see the present tense, boy do you see it! And boy can you celebrate it.”
― Dennis Potter, Seeing the Blossom: Two Interviews and a Lecture

“If you tend to a flower, it will bloom, no matter how many weeds surround it.”
― Matshona Dhliwayo

“The man was staring directly at him now, a curious expression on his face, half smiling, half quizzical. Instantly Eager had a sense of certainty far deeper than anything he had experienced so far. "I have it too!" he exclaimed. "I am a part of this Earth, aren't I? Just like the birds and the trees and the people - I am."
"Om." said his companion.
Unseen by them, a blossom fell.”
― Helen Fox

“But he calls down a blessing on the blossom of the may,
Because it comes in beauty, and in beauty blows away.”
― W.B. Yeats, Stories of Red Hanrahan

“Joy is held in the seed of agony, for what was closed in the winds of grief, now opens as a flower. The bud that tightened, suddenly is awake and a new blossom unfolds.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Joy is held in the seed of agony, for what was closed in the winds of grief, now opens as a flower. The bud that tightened, suddenly is awake and a new blossom appears.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Water the seed of your broken heart with tears. Someday, it will open into a flower.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Petal by petal, the rose remembers its freshness
Crying for the lost scent.
A bud opened into a flower as fresh flesh
that my soul took in and found a new life.
Paradise sprawled into my deep,
a spillage of scent, from the red blossom.
My injured soul is flaming,
longing to live again,
in the luminous opening of a young bud.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Petal by petal, the rose remembers its freshness
Crying for the lost scent.
A bud opened into a flower as fresh flesh
that my soul took in and found a new life.
Paradise sprawled into my deep,
a spillage of scent, from the red blossom.
This injured soul is flaming,
longing to live again,
in the luminous opening of a young bud.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Nothing we encounter is by chance, for each is a Godsend in this life. It may not seem clear at the time, but as you walk through the fog, you get to see the light, faintly spreading. There, we understand what seemed so baffling all this time. Could that be the sun coming through the fog?
We may not understand the path laid by God, but with time, we enter the incomprehensible. Each encounter is a gift from God, to help us unfold and find our sacred deep. Each loss can open a doorway if only we let it and the crushed heart grows to be a flower. Through loss and love, through all that is spoken and unspoken, we are going back home, to make sense of everything, to be aware of that which we were unaware of, --the purpose of life.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“When memories become flowers, a new world opens up--a world of blossoms and light.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Some hearts weep all night only to blossom in the dawn, for God holds the tears and turns them into a flower of light.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“In reaching skyward, the trees blossom to the fullest, and so does the soul in the deep night, for in reaching skyward, one finds the full moon of light in the self.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The saddest beauty is that which was crushed before even it had a chance to unfold. The heart that held the song but didn't get a chance to sing, the dreams that linger in the quiet space of deep, knowing they will never find a way to the light. But ironically, someday they become the sweetest wine, filling the cup of some lost lover. Strangely enough, it becomes a muse for artists to create art that goes beyond time.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Unknowingly, we kill our finest feelings, and the heart is torn in deep, for the bud never got a chance to open, and shoots of joy remained unfelt. Being still, we meet ourselves, eye to eye, and discover our undiscovered selves, that we are the poets, the dreamers, and the lovers sleeping inside.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“If you would sit by me, a new light would come into play, for I would reveal the deepest secrets of spring. I would show you how blossoms open in the thick of winter, how snowdrops speak of new beginnings, and hope flames on the frigid grounds.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“You are in love, and suddenly flowers release their scent.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“That the flower that goes to sleep, never wakes up to life, is what makes the blossom a forget-me-not.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“That the flower that goes to sleep, never wakes up to life, is what turns the blossom into a forget-me-not.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“It may seem that the cold November rain killed the memories, but deep down, the roots hold the light of those days. On the grounds, they flower, as fresh snowdrops in the snow.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“When the stars swim in the sea of night, opening in the dark as silver blossoms, there's life in the veins, sending shoots of thrill.
This is the light, shouting in the dark, to sense ecstasy, while still alive.
This is the thrust from the lifeless to life, telling us, we are more than a body, more than a flesh.
This is when the burning begins for something of the otherworld.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Do you sense it, peace spreading on the river?
Do you feel it, how melancholy melts in the music of the winds, for blossoms of beauty are knifing through the sadness of ages?
Do you see it, how the wings of morning are spreading like a river of light?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Do you sense it, peace spreading on the river?
Do you feel it, how melancholy melts in the music of the winds, for blossoms of beauty are knifing through the age-old sadness?
Do you see it, how the wings of morning are spreading like a river of light?”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee