“And he nipped them in the bud, right at the end”

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

The principle of order in me, around me, and in the world… I would watch the buds swell in spring, the mica glint in the granite, my own hands, and I would say to myself: “I will understand this, too, I will understand everything.

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers….Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.

How many thorns of human nature are bristling conceits, buds of promise grown sharp for want of congenial climate.

I regard texture similar to the function of taste buds in our mouths. But in a visual form.

A flower growing from seed to bud to bloom is always where it should be. Everything takes time.

Moments like this are buds on the tree of life. Flowers of darkness they are.