“The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.”

Often in my way have I stood still, though but a casual passenger, so much I felt the awfulness of life.

True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Till heart with heart in concord beats, and the lover is beloved.

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.

Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch’d in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from.

Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.

A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.

Memories -images and precious thoughts that shall not die and cannot be destroyed.

Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.

Habit rules the unreflecting herd.

Faith is a passionate intuition.

Strongest minds are often those whom the noisy world hears least.

From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.

Scent is the soul of flowers, and sea flowers, as splendid as they may be, have no soul!

You have it in your power to make your days on Earth a path of flowers, instead of a path of thorns.

When a bud breaks it becomes a flower, when a heart breaks it becomes divine.

I think people need to be educated to the fact that marijuana is not a drug. Marijuana is an herb and a flower. God put it here. If He put it here and He wants it to grow, what gives the government the right to say that God is wrong?

Where soil is, men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers.

She tasted like wildflowers; crushed, wet wild flowers carried in sticky palms through farmers’ fields, just before dawn.

Shed no tear – O, shed no tear! The flower will bloom another year. Weep no more – O, weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.

Don’t bring her dead flowers, take her to where the flowers live.