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Flirting: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious To have mistrusted her.— Shakespeare — Cymbeline. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 63.
O, that men's ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!— Shakespeare — Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 256.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For, "get you gone," she doth not mean, "away." Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.— Shakespeare — Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 100.
They do abuse the king that flatter him: For flattery is the bellows blows up sin.— Shakespeare — Pericles. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 38.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery?— Shakespeare — Henry V. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 267.
Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning.— Shakespeare — Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 65.
'Tis an old maxim in the schools. That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condescend to take a bit.— SWIFT — Cadenus and Vanessa. L. 769.
Where Young must torture his invention To flatter knaves, or lose his pension.— SWIFT — Poetry, a Rhapsody. L. 279.
I assisted at the birth of that most significant word flirtation, which dropped from the most beautiful mouth in the world, and which has since received the sanction of our most ac. curate Laureate in one of his comedies.— CHESTERFIELD — The World. No. 101.
From a grave thinking mouser, she was grown The gayest flirt that coach'd it round the town.— PITT — Fable. The Young Man and
A wilderness of sweets. The breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand.— BACON — Essay. Of Gardening.
Sweet letters of the angel tongue, I've loved ye long and well, And never have failed in your fragrance sweet To find some secret spell, - A charm that has bound me with witching power, For mine is the old belief, That midst your sweets and midst your bloom, There's a soul in every leaf!— M. M. BALLOU — Flowers.
As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them.— HENRY WARD BEECHER — Star Papers.
A Discourse of Flowers. Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some are pensive and diffident; others again are plain, honest and upright, like the broad-faced sunflower and the hollyhock.— HENRY WARD BEECHER — Star Papers.
A Discourse of Flowers. Flowers are Love's truest language; they Forget-me-not, and violets, heavenly blue, betray, Like the divining rods of Magi old, Where precious wealth lies buried, not of gold, But love-strong love, that never can decay!— PARK BENJAMIN — Sonnet. Flowers
Love's Truest Language. And sleepy poppies nod upon their stems; The humble violet and the dulcet rose, The stately lily then, and tulip blows.— ANNE E. BLEECKER — Return to
Tomhanick. Another rose may bloom as sweet, Other magnolias ope in whiteness.— MARIA BROOKS — Written on Seeing
Part I.-Unclassified Flora.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 294.
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead. She wept tear after tear, with the blood which was shed,- And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden-close; Her tears, to the wind-flower,-his blood, to the rose.— E. B. BROWNING — A Lament for Adonis. St. 6.
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, Held out in the smoke, like stars by day.— E. B. BROWNING — The Soul's Travelling.
It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.— ROBERT BROWNING — The Patriot.
The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade and glen.— BRYANT — The Death of the Flowers.
Where fall the tears of love the rose appears, And where the ground is bright with friendship's tears, Spring glittering with the cheerful drops like dew.— BRYANT — Trans. of N. Müller's. The
Paradise of Tears. Mourn, little harebells o'er the lea; Ye stately foxgloves fair to see! Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie In scented bowers! Ye roses on your thorny tree The first o' flow'rs.— BURNS — Elegy on Capt. Matthew
Henderson. Now blooms the lily by the bank, The primrose down the brae; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, And milkwhite is the slae.— BURNS — Lament of Mary, Queen of
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.— BURNS — My Nannie's Awa.
Yet all beneath the unrivalled rose, The lovely daisy sweetly blows.— BURNS — The Vision. Duan Second. St. 21.
Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue? And where is the violet's beautiful blue? Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile? That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile? C.— JOHN BYROM — A Pastoral. St. 8.
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true : Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you, For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold.— CAMPBELL — Field Flowers.
The berries of the brier rose Have lost their rounded pride : The bitter-sweet chrysanthemums Are drooping heavy-eyed.— ALICE CARY — Faded Leaves.
I know not which I love the most, Nor which the comeliest shows, The timid, bashful violet, Or the royal-hearted rose : The pansy in her purple dress, The pink with cheek of red, Or the faint, fair heliotrope, who hangs, Like a bashful maid her head.— PHEBE CARY — Spring Flowers.
The anemone in snowy hood, The sweet arbutus in the wood. And to the smiling skies above I say, "Bend brightly o'er my love."— MARY CLEMMER — Good-By, Sweetheart.
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!— COLERIDGE — Hymn Before Sunrise in
the Vale of Chamouni. There spring the wild-flowers-fair as can be.— ELIZA COOK — Journal. My Grave. Vol. V. St. 7.
Who does not recollect the hours When burning words and praises Were lavished on those shining flowers, Buttercups and daisies?— ELIZA COOK — Journal. Buttercups and Daisies, Vol. IV. St. 4.
They know the time to go! The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour In field and woodland, and each punctual flower Bows at the signal an obedient head And hastes to bed.— SUSAN COOLIDGE — Time to Go.
Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. VI. L. 241.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. III. L. 576.
Flowers are words Which even a babe may understand.— BISHOP COXE — The Singing of Birds.
And all the meadows, wide unrolled, Were green and silver, green and gold, Where buttercups and daisies spun Their shining tissues in the sun.— JULIA C. R. DORR — Unanswered.
The harebells nod as she passes by, The violet lifts its tender eye, The ferns bend her steps to greet, And the mosses creep to her dancing feet.— JULIA C. R. DORR — Over the Wall.
Up from the gardens floated the perfume Of roses and myrtle, in their perfect bloom.— JULIA C. R. DORR — Vashti's Scroll. L. 91.
The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time: The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime : White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay, And white snow in minutes melts away.— DRYDEN — Trans. from Theocritus. The Despairing Lover. L. 57.
The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.— S. JANE ELLIOTT — The Flowers of the
Forest. Why does the rose her grateful fragrance yield, And yellow cowslips paint the smiling field?— GAY — Panthea. L. 71.
They speak of hope to the fainting heart, With a voice of promise they come and part, They sleep in dust through the wintry hours, They break forth in glory-bring flowers, bright flowers!— MRS. HEMANS — Bring Flowers.
Through the laburnum's dropping gold Rose the light shaft of orient mould, And Europe's violets, faintly sweet, Purpled the moss-beds at its feet.— MRS. HEMANS — The Palm-Tree.
Faire pledges of a fruitful tree Why do yee fall so fast? Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile And go at last.— HERRICK — To Blossoms.
The daisy is fair, the day-lily rare, The bud o' the rose as sweet as it's bonnie.— HOGG — Auld Joe Nicolson's Nannie.
What are the flowers of Scotland, All others that excel? The lovely flowers of Scotland, All others that excel! The thistle's purple bonnet, And bonny heather bell, Oh, they're the flowers of Scotland All others that excel!— HOGG — The Flowers of Scotland.
Yellow japanned buttercups and star-disked dandelions,-just as we see them lying in the grass, like sparks that have leaped from the kindling sun of summer.— O. W. HOLMES — The Professor at the
Breakfast-Table. X. I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday, - The tree is living yet.— HOOD — I Remember, I Remember.
At the roots Of peony bushes lay in rose-red heaps, Or snowy, fallen bloom.— JEAN INGELOW — Songs with Preludes.
Wedlock. I have brought a budding world, Of orchis spires and daisies rank, And ferny plumes but half uncurled, From yonder bank.— JEAN INGELOW — The Letter L. Absent.
Above his head Four lily stalks did their white honours wed To make a coronal; and round him grew All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, Together intertwined and trammell'd fresh; The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, Shading its Ethiop berries.— KEATS — Endymion. Bk. II. L. 413.
And O and O, The daisies blow, And the primroses are waken'd; And the violets white Sit in silver plight, And the green bud's as long as the spike end.— KEATS — In a Letter to Haydon.
But the rose leaves herself upon the brier, For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.— KEATS — On Fame.
Of primroses by shelter'd rills, And daisies on the aguish hills.— KEATS — The Eve of St. Mark.
Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn The shrine of Flora in her early May.— KEATS — Dedication to Leigh Hunt.
*** the rose Blendeth its odor with the violet, - Solution sweet.— KEATS — The Eve of St. Agnes. St. 36.
Underneath large blue-bells tented Where the daisies are rose-scented, And the rose herself has got Perfume which on earth is not.— KEATS — Ode. Bards of Passion and of
Mirth. Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, Be careful ere ye enter in, to fill Your baskets high With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines Savory latter-mint, and columbines.— KEATS — Endymion. Bk. IV. L. 575.
The loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth, And they first feel the sun: so violets blue; So the soft star-like primrose-drenched in dew- The happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth.— KEBLE — Miscellaneous Poems. Spring
Showers. Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining, Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day, Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, Buds that open only to decay.— LONGFELLOW — Flowers. St. 6.
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in the earth's firmament do shine.— LONGFELLOW — Flowers. St. 1.
Who that has loved knows not the tender tale Which flowers reveal, when lips are coy to tell? S.— BULWER-LYTTON — Corn Flowers.
The First Violets. Bk. I. St. 1. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies.— MARLOWE — The Passionate Shepherd
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream, Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.— MILTON — Comus. L. 850.
And touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. VIII. L. 47.
*** at shut of evening flowers. C.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IX. L. 278.
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 256.
The bright consummate flower.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 481.
The foxglove, with its stately bells Of purple, shall adorn thy dells; The wallflower, on each rifted rock, From liberal blossoms shall breathe down, (Gold blossoms frecked with iron-brown,) Its fragrance; while the hollyhock, The pink, and the carnation vie With lupin and with lavender, To decorate the fading year; And larkspurs, many-hued, shall drive Gloom from the groves, where red leaves lie, And Nature seems but half alive.— D. M. MOIR — The Birth of the Flowers. St. 14.
Crocus-cups of gold and blue, Snowdrops drooping early.— MONTGOMERY — The Valentine Wreath.
The purple heath and golden broom On moory mountains catch the gale, O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, The violet in the vale.— MONTGOMERY — A Field Flower.
How the rose, of orient glow, Mingles with the lily's snow.— MOORE — Odes of Anacreon. Ode LI.
The Wreath's of brightest myrtle wove With brilliant tears of bliss among it, And many a rose leaf cull'd by Love To heal his lips when bees have stung it.— MOORE — The Wreath and the Chain.
Yet, no-not words, for they But half can tell love's feeling; Sweet flowers alone can say What passion fears revealing: A once bright rose's wither'd leaf, A tow'ring lily broken,- Oh, these may paint a grief No words could e'er have spoken.— MOORE — The Language of Flowers.
He bore a simple wild-flower wreath : Narcissus, and the sweet brier rose; Vervain, and flexile thyme, that breathe Rich fragrance; modest heath, that glows With purple bells; the amaranth bright, That no decay, nor fading knows, Like true love's holiest, rarest light; And every purest flower, that blows In that sweet time, which Love most blesses, When spring on summer's confines presses.— THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK — Rhododaphne. Canto I. L. 107.
In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears.— PERCIVAL — The Language of Flowers.
Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields, The Thistle springs, to which the Lily yields.— POPE — Spring. L. 89.
Flowers preach to us if we will hear.— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — Consider the
Lilies of the Field. The lily, snowdrop, and the violet fair, And queenly rose, that blossoms for a day.— MRS. C. M. SAWYER — The Blind Girl.
Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Fox-glove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.— SCOTT — The Lady of the Lake. Canto I. St. 12.
The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.— SCOTT — The Lady of the Lake. Canto IV. St. 1.
Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength-a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! S.— Shakespeare — Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 118.
In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl and rich embroidery.— Shakespeare — Merry Wives of Windsor. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 74.
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 251. The fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors. C.— Shakespeare — Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 81.
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world. Cymbeline. Act. IV. Sc. 2. L. 296. To strew thy green with flowers; the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds. Pericles. Act. IV. Sc. 1. L. 15. Faint oxlips; tender bluebells at whose birth The sod scarce heaved.— SHELLEY — The Question.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets.— SHELLEY — The Question.
Day stars! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation, And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle As a libation.— HORACE SMITH — Hymn to the Flowers.
Ye bright Mosaics! that with storied beauty, The floor of Nature's temple tesselate, What numerous emblems of instructive duty Your forms create!— HORACE SMITH — Hymn to the Flowers.
Those few pale Autumn flowers! How beautiful they are! Than all that went before, Than all the Summer store, How lovelier far!— CAROLINE SOUTHEY — Solitary Hours.
Autumn Flowers. Roses red and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.— SPENSER — Faerie Queene. Bk. III. Canto VI. St. 6.
Strowe me the ground with daffadowndillies, And cowslips, and kingcups and loved lillies.— SPENSER — The Shepherd's Calender. Song. St. 12.
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but sticketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.— SPENSER — Amoretti. Sonnet XXVI.
For here the violet in the wood Thrills with the sweetness you shall take, And wrapped away from life and love The wild rose dreams, and fain would wake.— HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD — O Soft Spring Airs! St. 4.
The violets ope their purple heads; The roses blow, the cowslip springs.— SWIFT — Answer to a Scandalous Poem. L. 150.
Primrose-eyes each morning ope In their cool, deep beds of grass; Violets make the air that pass Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.— BAYARD TAYLOR — Home and Travel. Ariel in the Cloven Pine. L. 57.
The amorous odors of the moveless air, - Jasmine and tuberose and gillyflower, Carnation, heliotrope, and purpling shower Of Persian roses.— BAYARD TAYLOR — The Picture of St. John. Bk. II. St. 18.
With roses musky-breathed, And drooping daffodilly, And silver-leaved lily. And ivy darkly-wreathed, I wove a crown before her, For her I love so dearly.— TENNYSON — Anacreontics.
And buttercups are coming, And scarlet columbine, And in the sunny meadows The dandelions shine. S.— CELIA THAXTER — Spring. St. 4.
The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue; And polyanthus of unnumbered dyes.— THOMSON — The Seasons. Spring. L. 529.
A love-tint flushes the wind-flower's cheek, Rich melodies gush from the violet's beak, On the rifts of the rock, the wild columbines grow, Their heavy honey-cups bending low. น.— SARAH HELEN WHITMAN Wood-Walks in Spring. L. 37.
But when they had unloosed the linen band, Which swathed the Egyptian's body, -lo! was found, Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand, A little seed, which, sown in English ground, Did wondrous snow of starry blossoms bear, And spread rich odours through our springtide air.— OSCAR WILDE — Athanasia. St. 2.
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast, Children of Summer!— WORDSWORTH — Staffa Sonnets.
Flowers on the Top of the Pillars at the Entrance of the Cave. Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.— WORDSWORTH — To the Small Celandine.
C. Hast thou the flower there? Amaranth. Amarantus. Nosegays! leave them for the waking, Throw them earthward where they grew Dim are such, beside the breaking Amaranths he looks unto. Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.— E. B. BROWNING — A Child Asleep.
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.— MILTON — Lycidas. L. 149.
Immortal amaranth, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life, Began to bloom, but soon for Man's offence, To heav'n remov'd, where first it grew, there grows, And flow'rs aloft shading the fount of life.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. III. L. 353.
Amaranths such as crown the maids That wander through Zamara's shades.— MOORE — Lalla Rookh. Light of the Harem. L. 318.
Amaryllis. Amaryllis. Where, here and there, on sandy beaches A milky-bell'd amaryllis blew.— TENNYSON — The Daisy. St. 4.