Amaryllis Quotes

You are ice and fire, The touch of you burns my hands like snow. You are cold and flame. You are the crimson of amaryllis, The silver of moon-touched magnolias. When I am with you, My heart is a frozen pond Gleaming with agitated torches.

They were having sex on Gifford's desk, if you must know." Lucas's eyes glinted. "His desk, huh?" "Yes." Amaryllis raised her chin, the better to look down her nose at him. "I would have thought it would have been extremely uncomfo rtable, but they appeared to enjoy it.

And I realized: souls don't stand alone. What makes a soul a soul is the shared burden and pain, the shared joy: it's the connection between us that carries on.

A guilty conscience can be very troublesome, I've heard.

And of course that was an Amaryllis that was never going to exist, one that I could never talk to or thank. I longed for her, even though I only knew her through her words.

If I could really love, I would take away these tubes dripping lipids and glucose into your blood. I would liquefy the things you love and flood them through your veins: our sleeping dogs' rhythmic breathing, huge orange trumpets of the amaryllis we thought would never bloom, the crunch of the gravel road coming home. If I could really love, I would climb onto your narrow back and wrap myself around, guarding like a ladybug, or Achilles' mighty shield.

The idea that our highest duty is not to follow the law but to do whatever we know to be right fills me with calm and hope and awe.

Truth doesn't have a color. And it doesn't have a smell. It doesn't quiver or make noise. It doesn't shimmer. Yet it does - it does all these things, depending. Because truth is capricious. It may be hovering there all the while, but one moment you think you see it - it seems so clear, so well defined, as if you could catch it and hold it steady in your hand. But the next moment it's gone, or at least so fast moving it's a blur, at best. That's the thing Africa taught me about truth. You know it's truth because it's busy. Any seeming truth that's idle? Well, that's just not truth.

She led me into the salon, where buckets of mostly white flowers bloomed in every corner of the room like fluffy clouds, making it a magical olfactory experience for my nose and my spirit, the sweet aromas potent. There were roses, tulips, and peonies, as well as a few containers bursting with blood-orange flowers with saffron-colored filaments, similar in form to an amaryllis. "I mostly ordered white flowers," said Jane, pointing to an arrangement. "The clivias offer a dash of color- my concept for the exciting change to come.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.

Pulling back slightly, Tanun gripped her face between his hands and his eyes were almost fierce in the intensity they held. “We are not husband and wife in body, but here”—he gripped her hand and pressed it firmly against his heart, and placed his own hand over hers—“here is where we will always be together. No matter what our future, I will love you for the rest of my life.

My mop of black hair was so tangled in the scrawny bush, and Mama's hands so slippery with blueberry juice and the mess of me, she couldn't free me, so she pulled a pair of pruning shears from her skirt and gave me my first haircut right then and there, while I wailed like a robbed jay. When she'd finished I appeared a shrunken old man, a bald sun on the tiptop of my head with a halo of greasy hair matted about it, and a forehead so furrowed in fury, the lines didn't soften for days.

Valentine reminds us that to be fully human is to be both a story teller and a story dweller." --- Christina Meldrum, author of Madapple and Amaryllis in Blueberry

Amaryllis laughed softly. "You have this look on you face of absolute ecstasy." {…} "Woman. You can not use that word. I would only look like that if I was having sex. The right kind of sex." {…} She laughed again. "I can't help how you look. Maybe you get the same look on your face when you're having sex. Do you like food that much?

Amaryllis felt overwhelmed with a sudden rising emotion she could only identify as love, and that scared her to death. She had never expected to feel so much for another human being.

He forced air through his lungs and with it, brought in the scent of Amaryllis. The moment he took her in, his world changed. Lightened. She could do that, without doing more than existing.

lab folks subjected the artifacts to

I’ve focused for hypnos in the past, and they didn’t feel

I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.

I read the books very quickly, and might have missed something,” said Bethel, “Did Hermione give Ron a handjob?” “This is too vulgar,” said Amaryllis. “And no, she didn’t.” “It’s implied in the text,” began Valencia. “Is it?” asked Amaryllis in disbelief. Valencia huffed. “Well, you have to understand that the books were written for children, but given that sexual curiosity is completely normal in the early and late teens, their close proximity with one another, their history of dating others, then yes,” said Valencia. She folded her hands. “The lack of explicit sexual activity probably has more to do with the marketing of the books and the social mores of both the author and audience.

I spoke with the Dungeon Master,” I said. The room was silent for a bit; there were some looks of confusion. “That’s your name for the entity that you believe created and controls all of reality?” asked Amaryllis. “Yes,” I replied. “And you spoke to it?” asked Grak. “Yes,” I replied again. “Him. Or, he took a human form, I guess, but I think it was a him. I’m kind of under the impression that he was what he claimed to be.” Amaryllis was clenching the table. “Please tell me that you were diplomatic.” I paused slightly and tried to think of how to word it. There were two memories of how it went, and I could put them in sequence because of how one of those memories ended. “We didn’t really prepare for me to meet the all-knowing entity that controls the world,” I said. “It started off with -- look, I think overall it was a positive, productive conversation, but -- I asked him about the problem of pain, and he was kind of a dick about it, so I beat him to death.” “No,” said Amaryllis. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Juniper, why, I’m pregnant now, I can’t even drink my sorrows away.” “He wasn’t actually dead,” I said. “Oh?” asked Amaryllis, opening her eyes. “Really? The all-seeing entity that controls reality didn’t die from you punching it?! How could anyone possibly have seen that coming!

That’s the thing with drugs first, you control them, and then they control you…

Everything is cheap when you're rich...

I’ll do what is right no matter what I have to do to accomplish it. I’ll break every law out there if it makes the world a better place.

The main problem I have with society is that people often do what’s popular before what’s right. It’s like we blindly follow so many things and people just because everyone else is doing it. Me? I like to form my own personal opinion on things before trying them. That's why most critics suck; they always hate things that should be loved and love what they're meant to hate.

It’s a shame really, I mean, if you’re only doing something for the money and all, it’s like you don’t even really care about what you’re doing. So many people only do good things because they get paid for it.

It’s a shame, really; all the exciting things happen when you’re not there to witness them. It’s almost as if life is purposefully trying to annoy you in that way.

I’d honestly rather have a bunch of cats than a million dollars; at least cats don’t make you feel lonely. Just the thought of money makes me depressed; it controls the world. You can get away with anything if you have enough dough. That’s one thing I like about the Bible; it talks about how destructive greed is. People treat mammon as their God, you know? If I ever won the lottery, I’d give up all my money and go to live in the wild like that Chris McCandless guy, except I’d be smart about it and survive. I’d also buy a sasquatch suit just to mess with cryptologists; some moron would record me and claim that I was “proof” of bigfoot or some nonsense. People disappoint me so much sometimes…

I remember punching trees in the nearby forest after he died from how angry I was at myself for not giving him more attention. My hands became all bloody and bruised, and even a drop of hand sanitizer would burn like a blaze. They also became swollen, and the slightest movement would cause immense agony. We put hydrogen peroxide on it so they wouldn’t get infected. Do I regret doing it? Sort of... The truth is, no matter how hard I punch something, it will never get rid of the biggest pain of my life.

Nostalgia can be so painful at times; nothing is worse than wanting what you can't have.

I’ll admit that I’m afraid to admit that I don’t like something sometimes, it’s like you’re expected to like certain things, and if you don’t then, you get treated like an outcast.

I have severe distraction issues, and it leads to every task taking five times longer than it should. I swear I can’t focus on something for more than a minute; sometimes, I can’t even finish a song before putting another one on.

So many good things are over far too quickly.

I’m not very smart; to be honest with you, I just act smart to hide my emotional scars. I hide behind the veil of pseudo-intellectualism to protect my fragile ego.

That’s my weakness right there, girls with beautiful voices. I could fall in love with a girl just by hearing her voice; I don’t even have to see her for it to happen.

He probably had cameras all over Arcadia as far as I was concerned. He seemed exactly like the type of person who would become a dictator. It’s always the paranoid ones that become one.

I’m probably the biggest hypocrite of all time; I do exactly what I claim to hate and get all defensive when people call me out on it.

I love animals more than people; they never call you ugly or laugh at you. If you hurt animals, I’ll hurt you.

I do a lot of things without knowing the exact reasons I’m doing them for. I’m run by impulse, that’s my modus operandi.

I often describe my problems as if they’re the worst ever when really they’re quite minor.

Dining tables were dressed in hunter-green velvet linens. Royal Staffordshire Tonquin Brown dinner plates sat on top of hammered copper chargers. Cut-crystal drinkware and hammered copper tumblers glinted in the candlelight and strands of twinkle lights. Vintage brass and low copper vessels overflowed with garden roses, tulips, and amaryllis in various shades of cream, peach, and burnt orange along with lush greenery. Berries and russet feathers peeked out every so often, and antlers interspersed at odd angles. Reminiscent of an enchanted woodland from a C.S. Lewis novel, this was by far my favorite design Cedric had ever created.

An amaryllis is always waiting to delight and surprise you, even when your world seems cold and dark.

The sun every morning, the cloisonné pendant, the silver key, Helen Calvert’s letter on how to care for an amaryllis, and the bargain I made.

I honestly felt like I was slowly going insane at that moment; I just felt so hopeless and lost.

I’ve always loved an amaryllis at Christmastime. It blooms in winter because it believes it is spring. After the first of the year, pull the bulb from the dirt. Keep it cool and dry, like in the barn or barrel room. Next year, if you repot it in November, it will bloom for you again at the holidays. Just like it is blooming now. An amaryllis is always waiting to delight and surprise you, even when your world seems cold and dark.

Though the garden brought no profit in winter, it had its own beauty. The white canopy over the glass house sparkled on bright days. The gazing ball grew a crystalline moon. Downy snow on the herb beds and flower gardens caught the light in soft, variant blues and mauves. Reddily clustered berries against the drifts formed a pretty picture. A frosted crescent blanketed the bench where Lavender and her father used to sit, listening to Amaryllis Fitch's divine harp concerts. And the winter garden wasn't silent, either. Chickadees in their black caps twittered about, and Lavender left a pan of seeds out for them. Rabbits' tracks crooked across the slumbering perennials and bulbs.

Harmful to Cats and Dogs. The list was broken down into two categories. Toxic to Felines: Amaryllis, Autumn Crocus, Azaleas and Rhododendrons, Bleeding Hearts, Castor Bean, Chrysanthemum, Cyclamen, English Ivy, Lilies, Oleander, Peace Lily, Spanish Thyme, Tulip and Narcissus bulbs, Yews Toxic to Canines: Castor Bean or Castor Oil Plant, Cyclamen, Dumb Cane, Hemlock, English Ivy, Mistletoe, Oleander, Thorn Apple, Yews

The tranquil beauty of the taintless nature stills here;decked with,asters,amaryllis and bluebells;such sweet incense never dies from his lonely heart,who loves to imbue his solitude in his art!