My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
EDMOND ROSTANDRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
EDMOND ROSTANDYou must believe me when I believe, and not when I doubt.
EDMOND ROSTANDYour name hangs in my heart like a bell’s tongue.
EDMOND ROSTANDIt is at night that faith in light is admirable.
EDMOND ROSTANDStay awhile! ‘Tis sweet,. . . The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak Our selves unseen, unseeing!
EDMOND ROSTANDYour neck. I want to kiss it.
EDMOND ROSTANDA great nose may be an index Of a great soul.
EDMOND ROSTANDI am what I am because early in life I decided that I would please at least myself in all things.
EDMOND ROSTANDThe dream, alone, is of interest. What is life without a dream?
EDMOND ROSTANDThe dream, alone, is of interest. What is life without a dream?
EDMOND ROSTANDTake it, and turn to facts my fantasies.
EDMOND ROSTANDMy soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.
EDMOND ROSTANDA kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.
EDMOND ROSTANDMy heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.
EDMOND ROSTANDTo offend is my pleasure; I love to be hated.
EDMOND ROSTANDTo offend is my pleasure; I love to be hated.
EDMOND ROSTAND