Flower Motivational Quotes

Don't let the tall weeds cast a shadow on the beautiful flowers in your garden.

A rose does not answer its enemies with words, but with beauty.

When admiring other people's gardens, don't forget to tend to your own flowers.

Don't wait until people are dead to give them flowers.

Roses do not bloom hurriedly; for beauty, like any masterpiece, takes time to blossom.

A flower earns its honor in the dirt.

Whatever your passion is, keep doing it. Don't waste time chasing after success or comparing yourself to others. Every flower blooms at a different pace. Excel at doing what your passion is and only focus on perfecting it. Eventually people will see what you are great at doing, and if you are truly great, success will come chasing after you.

Every flower blooms at its own pace.

The Lotus in Buddhism is a sacred symbol that represents purity and resurrection as attributes that develop through a spiritual awakening of the self. With humble beginnings in swamplands, the Lotus flower exquisitely blooms, pure and untainted, from this murky world it thrives in. The Lotus flower represents a higher state of mind, a strong spirit cultivated far from the suffering and temptations of this muddied world that personifies beauty through the present moment.

Breathe in, breathe out. All the blessings of the universe that we may overlook are contained in the entirety of a breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Each breath is the sun flowering our earth, fresh water filling our oceans, and the blue skies clearing our minds. Infinite emotions are contained within every breath, and by the breath we can always realize the beauty within it all. Breathe in, breathe out.

Seeing the mud around a lotus is pessimism, seeing a lotus in the mud is optimism.

When we fail to tend to the fragilities of a flower as we become distracted by the noise of our minds, our plant is essentially dying. The quintessence of dying in the sense that we are failing to be mindful of the present moment, for life is the paradox of both living and dying concurrently. Just as we are living each moment, we are dying with every moment, and the essence of living is within each breath that ultimately comprises life as a whole.

I wonder if the world’s fascination has less to do with the flower itself, and more with the muck that it flourishes in. The Lotus flower is of an unparalleled beauty in its elegance and grace, yet its’ origins are of an environment that is a stark contrast. We cannot help but ponder such strange juxtaposition. However, there is something telling in this natural contrast between the flower and its environment: we are meant to grow, like the Lotus, and not dirty our hands in the mud that surrounds us.

Some roads are covered with flowers. Some hearts are full with kindness.

The prettiest flowers earn their honor in the ugliest dirt.

It was a very ordinary day, the day I realised that my becoming is my life and my home and that I don't have to do anything but trust the process, trust my story and enjoy the journey. It doesn't really matter who I've become by the finish line, the important things are the changes from this morning to when I fall asleep again, and how they happened, and who they happened with. An hour watching the stars, a coffee in the morning with someone beautiful, intelligent conversations at 5am while sharing the last cigarette. Taking trains to nowhere, walking hand in hand through foreign cities with someone you love. Oceans and poetry. It was all very ordinary until my identity appeared, until my body and mind became one being. The day I saw the flowers and learned how to turn my daily struggles into the most extraordinary moments. Moments worth writing about. For so long I let my life slip through my fingers, like water. I'm holding on to it now, and I'm not letting go.

Where there are no thorns there are no roses.

During your struggle society is not a bunch of flowers, it is a bunch of cactus.

If you tend to a flower, it will bloom, no matter how many weeds surround it.

It is easier to pluck a flower than to nurture it; which is why some would prefer to destroy your talents than nurture them.

A flower blooming in the desert proves to the world that adversity, no matter how great, can be overcome.

Lavender lilies all dotted with spots. Sun-yellow daffodils clustered in pots. Blue morning-glories climb trellises high. Powder-white asters like stars in the sky. Thick, pink peonies unfold in the sun. Winter adieu now that spring has begun.

A flower must bloom inside first before revealing its beauty to the world.

Quoting an experienced school counselor: "You can't change a bully into a flower child, but you can change him into a knight.

You don’t have to remind a flower when its time to bloom is near; it has been preparing for it all of its life.

It is the dirt that propels a flower to blossom.

Critics do not determine how beautifully a flower blooms.

I wonder, with all the flowers in the garden, how many of them ever think of hanging themselves with the garden hose, if ever they can.

Perfume is the scent that pours out of a flower's soul when crushed.

Love is like a morning mist.

You’ve got to plant flowers in the center of your soul if you want to bloom.

I am a flower breaking ground.

Its all a matter of weeding out the bad and cultivating more productive thoughts. And just like pulling weeds, you have to get to the root otherwise that weed, the self-doubt, that negative programming, will spring back up and shoke off the flower that can blossom for you in the future.Be consistent. Apply that "weed off" whenever you feel the need. Every day see the brighter side of things. Continually tell yourself how lucky you are, how good your life is right now, and how things can only get better

Do not let the world tell you not to bloom Just because they aren't ready for you Just because few days after they bloomed They died on a barren land, in the rain You may face the same fate But deep down you would know It's better to die blooming Than choosing to never grow...

Does poem also walk through the valleys seeking tongues from dandelions?

A flower blooming in a storm is stronger than a tree blossoming under a rainbow.

A rose that grows without a thorn is robbed of its beauty.

...love, and consequently fear, of the crowd being one of the most powerful motives in all human beings...

The beauty of souls is like blossom flowers.

A daisy blooming in a desert is worth more than a rose blossoming in a rainforest.

A rose’s beautiful scent is extracted only when it is crushed.

Women are beautiful flowers. Only when you love them and take good care of them will they fully bloom into the beautiful flowers that they are.

Symphonies begin with one note; fires with one flame; gardens with one flower; and masterpieces with one stroke.

To fall in love for any reason does cause fires of emotion. When we are in love, we ride on a positive energy as compared to not being in love. When we are love, we transcend conditional love to that of unconditional and we are now flowering in consciousness. Love is a very important element of consciousness as it becomes purer with Source union even as our consciousness is expanded further. Consciousness is love that is light.

Water has no effect on fake flowers.

If roses did not suffer thorns on their journey to beauty, they would lose out on becoming masterpieces.

The world's most gracious plant is a flower; even when you trample it, it perfumes your feet.

Dance with the flowers of enlightenment—then watch as your mind and body blossom as you begin to harvest the fruits of self-progression and self-realization

All bad things, like good things, must end.

Know who you are, feed the flower.

A flower can only grow through concrete if it believes in itself, not its obstacles.

The prettiest lotus blooms in the ugliest waters.

Self-criticism is an invasive weed in the garden, but too many of us have been taught to treat it like a treasured flower, even as it strangles the native plants of our sexuality. Far from motivating us to get better, self-criticism makes us sicker.

A lady had no business going around not murdering people when she had excellent motive, plausible means, and the correct temperament. Elspeth was decisive, physically strong, and by her own admission capable of coaxing along a seedling of a grudge until it flowered. "How dare she be innocent." I muttered. "It is most inconsiderate.

She: I am heartbroken. I don't believe in love. He: Sensitive people get heartbroken. But they should never stop believing in love. Just as a flower takes time to bloom, one day love will bloom and make their life fragrant!

A flower does not fulfill its destiny until it blooms, and a star does not fulfill its destiny until it shines.

It is in ugly waters that a lotus flower gets all of its beauty.

Maybe you’re not perfect, but you certainly are not unworthy. You are beautiful. A flower with a petal still unfurled does not lack in fragrance.

You, too, can observe the beauty of flowers and nature through the windows of your life if you are willing to open them.

When a flower rises from the earth, it is overcoming its greatest opponent: fear.

If a flower can flourish in the desert, you can flourish anywhere.

I dream of an America where a chicken can cross the road without having its motives questioned.

Beauty is in the flower not at its roots

Strive in stride like the resilient wildflowers that begin each day by turning to face the rolling sunrise. Even when the weight of the world has cemented their original path, they still rise through cracks in the sidewalk to find the sun and shine, never putting off until tomorrow because they inherently know, now’s the time. For it is with every sunrise that hope is born for change with new opportunities to make dreams come alive

So many times we have told ourselves that we are not good enough. So many times the world has told us too. It is in those times that we must find ourselves and do the best we can. You and I today, let’s prove the world wrong.

SEED And if Paul Celan would come in here, in the future verse I would be the flower you the death I would not write to you on this uncertain wish to die on you like a fading flower to become a seed Tânia Tomé © Book - " Tie me behind the sun" 2010

Things I love about spring are these: Blooming flowers on fruit-bearing trees. Fire-red tulips—their first reveal— Followed by sun-yellow daffodils. Trees acquiring new coats of green. Natural waterfalls glistening. The chirps and melodies of birds. Throaty ribbits of frogs overheard. A passing whiff of mint to smell, Oregano and basil as well. Colorful butterflies with wings. Fuzzy, industrious bees that sting. Sunlight waning late in the day. Warm breezes causing willows to sway. Most of all, a sense of things new, Including budding feelings for you.

Desire is the outcome of sensation - the outcome with all the images that thought has built. And this desire not only breeds discontent but a sense of hopelessness. Never suppress it, never discipline it but probe into the nature of it - what is the origin, the purpose, the intricacies of it? To delve deep into it is not another desire, for it has no motive; it is like understanding the beauty of a flower, to sit down beside it and look at it.

If you try, you risk failure. If you don’t, you ensure it.

To expect easy victories in the face of daily challenges is akin to wishing money grew like flowers in your garden”.

Embrace who you are and blossom as you are.

If you wait until you're ready, you'll be waiting the rest of your life.

Tend to your dreams as you would precious flowers—they bloom when nurtured, not when neglected.

When people get kinder, our society blooms for the better.

Just like a flower, you are a creation of unique beauty from the one essence of life.

Planting a flower in the desert takes greater skill than growing a garden in a rain forest.

Flowery tongues have thorny throats.

When I first discovered the world of paper flower crafts, I was immediately excited and quickly consumed with all the possibilities.

If your heart is a volcano,how shall you expect flower to bloom?

The loveliest roses sometimes bear the ugliest thorns.

Trees generously share their fruit. Bees generously share their honey. Flowers generously share their perfume. Do likewise.

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Birds, the Animals, the Flowers, are all proof that a Universal Power exists.-RVM

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Birds, the Animals, the Flowers, are all proof that a Universal Power exists. -RVM

If a flower perseveres through concrete, you can persevere through anything.

Don't pluck a rose's petals and then ask the rose why it is sad.

Be thankful for the rain during the times that you prayed for sunshine. Sometimes, it's not really the sun that we always need. Like a flower, we need a little rain for us to keep growing.

The bat-and-ball problem, the flowers syllogism, and the Michigan/Detroit problem have something in common. Failing these minitests appears to be, at least to some extent, a matter of insufficient motivation, not trying hard enough.

A seed is happy when it becomes a root, a root is happy when it becomes a bud, a bud is happy when it becomes a stem, and a stem is happy when it becomes a flower. A thought is happy when it becomes a reflection, a reflection is happy when it becomes a desire, a desire is happy when it becomes an action, and an action is happy when it becomes an experience. A dream is happy when it becomes a vision, a vision is happy when it becomes a goal, a goal is happy when it becomes a plan, and a plan is happy when it becomes a reality.

Many of us have forgotten how we used to be bedazzled by such everyday wonders as marveling at a spider web, finding an animal shape in the clouds, exploring the delicate intricacy of the pistils and stamens of a flower. It is time to rediscover the emotional vitality of the child within us. Our inner child can find enduring satisfaction in simple pleasures because s/he does not pursue them purely to escape inner emotional turmoil. Perhaps the vision of the emotionally vital poet Walt Whitman will motivate you to reconnect with the ardor of your abandoned inner child: I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars, And the running blackberry would adorn the parlours of heaven, And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels . . . And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth, And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the learning of all times . . .

Number me the things that are not yet come- gather me together the dross that are scattered abroad- make me the flowers green again that are withered- Open me the places that are closed, and bring me forth the winds that in them are shut up- shew me the image of a voice: and then I will declare to thee the thing that thou labor to know.

A new week has commenced, and we face new days filled with experiences yet to be discovered, and moments yet to be adventured, some good and some inevitably challenging. As we look forward to the week, let’s take heed from one of the many big lessons the smaller things in nature provide, and strive in stride like the resilient wildflowers that begin each day by turning to face the rolling sunrise.

Motivation, inspiration were not the problem; on the contrary I was always cheerful and workmanlike at the typewriter and had never suffered from what’s called writer’s block; I didn’t believe in it. The problem, if anything, was precisely the opposite. I had too much to write: too many fine and miserable buildings to construct and streets to name and clock towers to set chiming, too many characters to raise up from the dirt like flowers whose petals I peeled down to the intricate frail organs within, too many terrible genetic and fiduciary secrets to dig up and bury and dig up again, too many divorces to grant, heirs to disinherit, trysts to arrange, letters to misdirect into evil hands, innocent children to slay with rheumatic fever, women to leave unfulfilled and hopeless, men to drive to adultery and theft, fires to ignite at the hearts of ancient houses.

Well, Harry, while we’ve still got you here, you won’t mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, will you? There’s still so much to do.” “No--I--of course not,” said Harry, disconcerted by this sudden change of subject. “Sweet of you,” she replied, and she smiled as she left the scullery. From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley kept Harry, Ron, and Hermione so busy with preparations for the wedding that they hardly had any time to think. The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mrs. Weasley wanted to distract them all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of their recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mrs. Weasley cook vast batches of canapés, however, Harry started to suspect her of a different motive. All the jobs she handed out seemed to keep him, Ron, and Hermione away from one another; he had not had a chance to speak to the two of them alone since the first night, when he had told them about Voldemort torturing Ollivander. “I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she’ll be able to delay you leaving,” Ginny told Harry in an undertone, as they laid the table for dinner on the third night of his stay. “And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-au-vents?

They did not awaken quickly, nor fling about nor shock their systems with any sudden movement. No, they arose from slumber as gently as a soap bubble floats out from its pipe. Down into the gulch they trudged, still only half awake. Gradually their wills coagulated. They built a fire and boiled some tea and drank it from the fruit jars, and at last they settled in the sun on the front porch. The flaming flies made halos about their heads. Life took shape about them, the shape of yesterday and of tomorrow. Discussion began slowly, for each man treasured the little sleep he still possessed. From this time until well after noon, intellectual comradeship came into being. Then roofs were lifted, houses peered into, motives inspected, adventures recounted. Ordinarily their thoughts went first to Cornelia Ruiz, for it was a rare day and night during which Cornelia had not some curious and interesting adventure. And it was an unusual adventure from which no moral lesson could be drawn. The sun glistened in the pine needles. The earth smelled dry and good. The rose of Castile perfumed the world with its flowers. This was one of the best of times for the friends of Danny. The struggle for existence was remote. They sat in judgment on their fellows, judging not for morals, but for interest. Anyone having a good thing to tell saved it for recounting at this time. The big brown butterflies came to the rose and sat on the flowers and waved their wings slowly, as though they pumped honey out by wing power.

PROPOSE DAY POEM: Austerity.. If.. I were to define.. it’s you.. yoo hoo! - Happiness is what.. that makes me feel divine.. smiling you.. yoo hoo!! - What rose is in flowers.. What moon is in stars.. That you are to me.. You and I will be we.. You’re my life.. I.. I.. You’re my life.. I.. I.. I love you.. yoo hoo I love you.. yoo hoo - O girl, O girl, O.. O.. girl.. you be mine.. I love you.. I love you.. I love you.. yoo hoo.. You be my.. Valentine. - Just be mine.. I love you.. O O Valentine!!!

and though they pretended not to see the other strollers walking beside them or coming in the other direction, so as to let it be thought they had no interest in them, while actually glancing at them surreptitiously so as to avoid colliding with them, they collided with them nonetheless, or jostled them, because all of them had been furtively looking at each other, their attention concealed behind the same apparent disdain for everyone else; for love, hence fear, of the crowd is one of the most powerful motives in all individuals, whether they wish to please others, astonish them, or show that they despise them.

It was a heady, overwhelming veil of scent. At first it developed almost hypnotically into a floral, fruit bouquet; languid and sensual with a musky, almost dusty depth. But then a sharpness emerged, beautiful, icy, unexpected. There was something almost overwhelming about the lush complexity of the formulation, the sheer unbridled eroticism which came across in wave after wave of contrasting notes. ‘This is floral, earthy, and there’s the clean overlay of aldehydic waxiness and soft flowers,’ Madame explained. ‘And then, underneath, a whiff of more feral, impolite essences. Under the clean, innocent exterior there’s a carnal presence. It’s not without ulterior motive.’ Grace stared hopelessly. Here was a language she definitely didn’t understand. ‘I’m sorry?’ Madame Zed looked across at her. ‘This, Mrs Munroe, is the scent of intoxication and desire. The perfume of seduction.

If you want to know death -- die! That is the only way to know. If you want to know life -- live!' You are alive but not living, and you will die and you will not die... because everything is lukewarm in you. You live? -- not exactly; you just drag. Somehow, somehow you pull yourself along. Live as intensely as possible! Burn your candle of life from both ends! Burn it so intensely... if it is finished in one second it is okay, but at least you will have known what it is. Only intensity penetrates. And if you can live an intense life you will have a different quality of death, because you will die intensely. As life is, so will the death be. If you live dragging, you will die dragging. You will miss life, and you will miss death also. Make life as intense as possible. Put everything at stake. Why worry? Why be worried about the future? THIS moment is there. Bring your total existence into it! Live intensely, totally, wholly, and this moment will become a revelation. And if you know life, you will know death. This is the secret key: if you know life, you will know death. If you ask what death is, it means you have not lived -- because deep down they are one.

Beauty Void lay the world, in nothingness concealed, Without a trace of light or life revealed, Save one existence which second knew- Unknown the pleasant words of We and You. Then Beauty shone, from stranger glances free, Seen of herself, with naught beside to see, With garments pure of stain, the fairest flower Of virgin loveliness in bridal bower. No combing hand had smoothed a flowing tress, No mirror shown her eyes their loveliness No surma dust those cloudless orbs had known, To the bright rose her cheek no bulbul flown. No heightening hand had decked the rose with green, No patch or spot upon that cheek was seen. No zephyr from her brow had fliched a hair, No eye in thought had seen the splendour there. Her witching snares in solitude she laid, And love's sweet game without a partner played. But when bright Beauty reigns and knows her power She springs indignant from her curtained bower. She scorns seclusion and eludes the guard, And from the window looks if doors be barred. See how the tulip on the mountain grown Soon as the breath of genial Spring has blown, Bursts from the rock, impatient to display Her nascent beauty to the eye of day. When sudden to thy soul reflection brings The precious meaning of mysterious things, Thou canst not drive the thought from out thy brain; Speak, hear thou must, for silence is such pain. So beauty ne'er will quit the urgent claim Whose motive first from heavenly beauty came When from her blessed bower she fondly strayed, And to the world and man her charms displayed. In every mirror then her face was shown, Her praise in every place was heard and known. Touched by her light, the hearts of angels burned, And, like the circling spheres, their heads were turned, While saintly bands, whom purest at the sight of her, And those who bathe them in the ocean sky Cries out enraptured, "Laud to God on high!" Rays of her splendour lit the rose's breast And stirred the bulbul's heart with sweet unrest. From her bright glow its cheek the flambeau fired, And myriad moths around the flame expired. Her glory lent the very sun the ray Which wakes the lotus on the flood to-day. Her loveliness made Laila's face look fair To Majnún, fettered by her every hair. She opened Shírín's sugared lips, and stole From Parvíz' breast and brave Farhád's the soul. Through her his head the Moon of Canaan raised, And fond Zulaikha perished as she gazed. Yes, though she shrinks from earthly lovers' call, Eternal Beauty is the queen of all; In every curtained bower the screen she holds, About each captured heart her bonds enfolds. Through her sweet love the heart its life retains, The soul through love of her its object gains. The heart which maidens' gentle witcheries stir Is, though unconscious, fired with love of her. Refrain from idle speech; mistake no more: She brings her chains and we, her slaves, adore. Fair and approved of Love, thou still must own That gift of beauty comes from her alone. Thou art concealed: she meets all lifted eyes; Thou art the mirror which she beautifies. She is that mirror, if we closely view The truth- the treasure and the treasury too. But thou and I- our serious work is naught; We waste our days unmoved by earnest thought. Cease, or my task will never end, for her Sweet beauties lack a meet interpreter. Then let us still the slaves of love remain For without love we live in vain, in vain. Jámí, "Yúsuf and Zulaikha". trans. Ralph T. H. Griffith. Ballantyne Press 1882. London. p.19-22

True beauty is found not in the exceptional but in the commonplaces Where does the beauty lie, in the exceptional or the commonplace? Some people believe, true beauty can be find only in exceptional and there isn’t any beauty in commonplaces, and it seems, they are all quotidian objects; but yet, another group of people attribute to the factual beauty of commonplaces and believe the beauty of exceptional seems artificial and it’ll be ephemeral. After weighing the evidence, it is certain that the true beauty lie in the commonplace not in the exceptional. People are most move by natural feature than the artificial ones. Those people that believe the beauty lie in the exceptional prefer the artificial beauties, which is made by human, to the natural beauties. Consider Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Liza, one of the most beautiful painting in the world. For sure it is beautiful and few people who view the painting are not moved by the sheer beauty of it. But how much time a person can enjoy watching this art work and praise it? One hour? Two hours? One week? Like Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Liza, the cathedral of north dame in Paris is another exceptional object which is wonderful and there are too many tourist that travel untold miles to view cathedral. Nobody can tell it is not beautiful; but, does it sacrifice people’s tendency as much as the original beauties do? People interest to visit these beautiful building and wonderful painting at least one time to be familiar with those great art work but it cannot be considered as a true beauty which is one of the requirement of human to be alive. On the other hand, the natural beauties which are around us are fantastic and eternal. They are always improve motivation on people and make them pleased. Consider a flower, although every people have seen many kind of flowers, it is always beautiful and move people to appropriate them. Like flower, plants, stars, sun, moon, sky, sea every object in the nature can be caused of an excited on people and motivate them to be alive. The common place beauties are the most part of the human’s life. If people every time don’t appreciate every beauty around him, and he praise exceptional object when he encounter, it cannot be a fair conclusion that the exceptional objects are true beauty. Indeed people believe nature is constantly compeer of human along the history, like one of his organs, he is not praising them every time, but it is incredible for human to feel he must be alive without common place beauty. Ultimately, after considering both sides of the issue, it must be concluded that the true beauty lie in the commonplace not in the exceptional. Exceptional are the beauties which can be as a complementary for the natural beauties. Because people’s life can be current even without exceptional but without commonplace beauties it is impossible for people to be alive.