Rose Represent Love Quotes

dear kiara, The women in the shop told me that yellow rose represents friendship and red rose shows love. And the rosery is the only thing i own that i care for, its yours i'm yours C

the sadness of those who love their own sex and therefore cannot live their lives in the form of a conventional marriage is redoubled by the chagrin of parents—for whom marriage represents the sole pinnacle of womanly achievement—and the opprobrium and scorn of everyone else.

Why does a red rose die if it's supposed to represent love? love never dies.

Oh little Poupchette, some may tell you that you are nobody's child, a child of defilement, a child begotten in fear and horror. Some may tell you that you are a child of abomination conceived in abomination, a tainted child, a child polluted long before you were born. Do not pay attention to them, my little sweetheart, please do not listen to them; listen to me. I say you are my child and I love you. I sometimes say that out of horror, beauty and purity and grace are born. I say I am your father for ever. I say the loveliest rose can bloom in contaminated soil. I say you are the dawn, the light of all my tomorrows, and the only thing that matters is the promise you represent. I say you are my luck and my forgiveness. My darling Poupchette, I say you are my whole life.

One thing in the school was captivating, lovely. Pictures of birds. Rose didn’t know if the teacher had climbed up and nailed them above the blackboard, too high for easy desecration, if they were her first and last hopeful effort, or if they dated from some earlier, easier time in the school’s history. Where had they come from, how had they arrived there, when nothing else did, in the way of decoration, illustration? A red-headed woodpecker; an oriole; a blue jay; a Canada goose. The colors clear and long-lasting. Backgrounds of pure snow, of blossoming branches, of heady summer sky. In an ordinary classroom they would not have seemed so extraordinary. Here they were bright and eloquent, so much at variance with everything else that what they seemed to represent was not the birds themselves, not those skies and snows, but some other world of hardy innocence, bounteous information, privileged lightheartedness. No stealing from lunch pails there; no slashing coats; no pulling down pants and probing with painful sticks; no fucking; no Franny.

I don’t get the point, really,” I’d said as we contemplated the plastic-wrapped roses. “Why give a girl something that’s supposed to represent love that’s only going to wilt and die in a matter of hours?” Steven laughed and said that was a pretty pessimistic way to view life, and I shrugged. Then he said, “All the best things are like that, though, Lex, the most beautiful things. Part of the beauty comes from the fact that they’re short-lived.” He picked up a bouquet of deep-red roses, held it out to me. “These will never be as beautiful as they are at this moment, so we have to enjoy them now.” I stared at him. He scratched the back of his neck, a little red-faced, then gave me a sheepish grin. “Just call me a romantic,” he said. I wanted to say that there were some things in this world, some rare things, that were beautiful and stayed that way.

Mathias remembered that once when he was a boy, he'd gone up to a pile of red apples that lay in the market cart, in the market near Stolberg where his father often took him. He'd always loved apples, and he couldn't resist the temptation of grabbing one out of the pile. He chose the closest, a splendid red piece of fruit that he would never forget because of his overwhelming desire to take it and hide it in the folds of his clothing. A moment after Mathias reached out and snatched it, the pile slid and applies tumbled down all around him. The farmer, who knew his father, would have been satisfied with an apology. But his father, a successful craftsman who was well-known and respected in the town, had insisted on purchasing an entire basketful of apples, because of the trouble Mathias had caused. Mathias got the worst scolding his father had ever given him. Not because of the money, but for the small act of petty thievery, which an upright man like his father would never tolerate. He shouldered his punishment, and in the end was only allowed to eat as single apple from the basket. He spent the night thinking about the pile. He had to remove only one and the whole thing had come down. He wondered if the same thing might happen with any tower, no matter how majestic and imposing it might seem, were someone to remove the right stone from the base. The thought stayed with him throughout his life. Venice now seemed a lot like that pile of apples. If three murders truly represented an irresistible opportunity, then which nobleman would have seized it, knowing that such a thing would cause La Serenissima and everything it represented to come crashing down?

Auric Colors and Their Meanings. Ÿ Black: represents hatred, malice, revenge, and similar feelings. Ÿ Gray: of a bright shade, represents selfishness. Ÿ Gray: of a peculiar shade (almost that of a corpse) , represents fear and terror. Ÿ Gray: of a dark shade, represents depression and melancholy. Ÿ Green: of a dirty shade, represents jealousy. If much anger is mingled with the jealousy, it will appear as red flashes on the green background. Ÿ Green: of almost a slate color shade, represents low deceit. Ÿ Green: of a peculiar bright shade, represents tolerance to the opinions and beliefs of others, easy adjustment to changing conditions, adaptability, tact, politeness, worldly wisdom, etc., and qualities which some might possibly consider "refined deceit." Ÿ Red: of a shade resembling the dull flame when it bursts out of a burning building, mingled with the smoke, represents sensuality and the animal passions. Ÿ Red: seen in the shape of bright red flashes resembling the lightning flash in shape, indicates anger. These are usually shown on a black background in the case of anger arising from hatred or malice, but in cases of anger arising from jealousy they appear on a greenish background. Anger arising from indignation or defense of a supposed "right," lacks these backgrounds, and usually shows as red flashes independent of a background. Ÿ Blue: of a dark shade, represents religious thought, emotion, and feeling. This color, however, varies in clearness according to the degree of unselfishness manifest in the religious conception. The shades and degrees of clearness vary from a dull indigo to Ÿ Crimson: represents love, varying in shade according to the character of the passion. A gross sensual love will be a dull and heavy crimson, while one mixed with higher feelings will appear in lighter and more pleasing shades. A very high form of love shows a color almost approaching a beautiful rose color. Ÿ Brown: of a reddish tinge, represents avarice and greed. Ÿ Orange: of a bright shade, represents pride and ambition. Ÿ Yellow: in its various shades, represents intellectual power. If the intellect contents itself with things of a low order, the shade is a dark, dull yellow; and as the field of the intellect rises to higher levels, the color grows brighter and clearer, a beautiful golden yellow betokening great intellectual attainment, broad and brilliant reasoning, etc. a beautiful rich violet, the latter representing the highest religious feeling. § Light Blue: of a peculiarly clear and luminous shade, represents spirituality. Some of the higher degrees of spirituality observed in ordinary mankind show themselves in this shade of blue filled with luminous bright points, sparkling and twinkling like stars on a clear winter night.

Skiddy Cottontail—that was his name—and he defended LGBT equality. He was a flamboyant, colorful striped rabbit, with a headdress of a rainbow crown on his forehead. The radiance of his energy was violet, scarlet, and turquoise; as it represented his love for everyone. In the infancy years of his existence, he was abandoned—alone—unwanted—unloved; rejected by a world that disdains him. His father wished him deceased, his family exiled him from the warren, he was physically mistreated and preyed on by homophobic mobs in the surrounding community by Elephants—Hyenas—rats. They splashed spit at his face, advising him that God condemns homosexuality—as Christ did not. They would slam him on the pavement with their Bibles, strike him in the stomach with their feet, throw boulders of stone at his body: imploring—abusing—condemning him to a tyrannical sentence. Skiddy Cottontail thought that his existence would end with this case of cruelty—violence—assault that was perpetrated against him. He wanted to cease to exist— he wanted to commit the ultimate murder on himself—he no more desired to go on living— he realized hope is already deceased. He yearned to have the courage to emerge, to discover his bravery that would sever this spiral of sensations of oppression. Being a victim made him a slave to his opponent—as his adversaries have full leverage against him. Life has become a thread of light, which he longed to be liberated from its shackles. His demon—a voice that keeps blaming him for his crimes in the back of his mind—a glass that continually cracks in his heart—will keep breaking him if he does not devise a way out of this crisis. He was conscious by his innermost conviction that there was candlelight with a key that had the potential to illuminate a new chapter that will erase this trail of obscurity behind him. He sees a new horizon with greater comprehension, a journey that can give him the roses of affection than a handful of dead birds that his adversaries handed him along the way. The stunning blossoming trees did have a forest—beautiful greenery that was colorful like the rainbow in the Heavens. This home will embrace him with a warm embrace of open arms, where cruelty is forbidden; where adoration can forever abound. Dawn will know him when he arrives. No more hurricanes or strife will be here—no crying of a sad humanity are here—only a gift of harmony and devotion, beyond all explanation, will abide in the heart of Skiddy Cottontail—when he finds his way out from this opponent world for a beautiful existence that is called liberation. Skiddy Cottontail has found a happiness that can only bring him contentment like nothing in this hurtful world can. Find your own sense of balance like him, Skiddy Cottontail, and you will experience serenity as much as him.

She grows within me She wakes up like a beautiful dream in my mind, Seeking something and desperately trying to find, My memories where she lives everywhere, And as she discovers her thoughts dashing here and there, In every corner of my mind, She loves me in ways refined and undefined, As she discovers my true feelings of love, That fly always unto her, bearing the wings of dove, Then as she dislodges herself intentionally, From this state of loving me endlessly, She wanders tirelessly in the garden of life, To pick a rose that represents love and life, And gifts it to me, Then as its scent floods through me, She gushes like a feeling within me, And how I love in this state to be, Forever within her, and she within me, Where she is not she, I am not who I am, Because we have fused together and that is now who she is and who I am, Two lovers existing as one, One heartbeat, one passion, one strife, one feeling, no other thoughts, none, And as this feelings grows over me, I feel a sense of infinite glee, And ah the wonder that now I can see, Her holding me in her arms in that embrace of eternity, In the light of the day, in the dark of the night, It is she, who now is my only delight, And she lives in my mind, in its thoughts, in my memories all, It is a feeling that nothing can uninstall, I no more feel anything, I only see her wherever I see, And this is how, now I wish it to be, She and I , where her mind grows inside me, And creates a sea, the endless sea, Where we lie hidden from the sun, the moon and the Heaven too, And I confess ceaselessly to her, I love you, I do, yes, I do! In the form of waves in the sea and in the form of tender breeze, So begins our romance that is not meant to cease.

She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.

Mum died peacefully in her sleep from Alzheimer’s at age seventy-six, in a nursing home, unable to recognize any members of her family. To honor her, I decorated her wooden casket with one hundred and one red roses: one hundred lined the outer edges, representing those she had loved and been loved by. The one I placed near her heart was from me; the effeminate son who thought the world of her.

hank you." These two magic words are perhaps the most neglected in our vocabulary. When I thank someone for doing something nice for me-sending me a present, cooking dinner for me, or doing me a special favor, they feel appreciated. There's something special about hand-written notes. For one thing, the recipient can read them over and over again, enjoying the friendship represented and the sentiment. The flip side is that saying "thank you" also makes me feel better. It reminds me of the nice thing the other person did for me. y friend, you don't have to travel life alone. I don't know what your personal journey has been or what earthquakes are shaking your foundations. I don't know what worries keep you up at night, what pains sap your strength, or what drags down your spirit. But no matter what road you're traveling, I do know the Lord is beside you every step of the way. Sometimes you'll see Him when you look back at your path and see what He's been doing. When you suffer, He'll wrap you in His arms. When your strength gives out, He'll carry you or give you strength. And when the ground beneath you seems to give way, He will steady your feet and put you on solid ground. God is with you! ake up and smell the roses!" I love a garden, don't you? What a relief to have a place where the trees and plants clean and refresh the air. A garden is also a place where

I compare building a relationship to building a house. While everyone’s all excited to paint and decorate a finished house, no one actually wants to go and build the foundation and the basement. As in building a house, the basement represents the foundation of a relationship, the part that is responsible for holding up that house that we love so much. If the foundation of a home is shoddy, cracked, or not aligned, then the house will fall—and the same is true for any relationship.

Flowers had an unspoken language, and each had something to say. White tulips represented a plea for forgiveness and a wish for a new start. Red roses were a symbol of passionate love. Sunflowers meant adoration. Receiving yellow hyacinths was a sign of jealousy, and geraniums insulted your intelligence.

Tell me about the conversations you and your brother escaped? The ones that drove you to the caverns. Tell me why you refuse to take the throne even when you know your brother won't be fit to do it when you free him,' I demanded. 'Tell me why you thought it was okay in the first fucking place to kidnap me and use me as random before you even knew me!' Frustration crowded my throat. 'Tell me why it never occurred to you to mention the Joining. Tell me about Gianna, Casteel. Does she care for you? Does she want this engagement? Do you care for her? He exhaled roughly, shaking his head, but I wasn't done. 'Tell me why you never told me the truth about Spessa's End until I was here? Was it because you didn't trust me with that information? Tell me about her. The one you loved and lost because of the Ascended. Tell me what happened to her. Will you even say her name?' My chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and my anger overwhelmed my senses, blocking out his emotions completely. 'Tell me how you can stand to be near me when I represent the people who took so much from you. Tell me why you really came to my room tonight. Tell me something that matters. That is real.' Casteel's chest rose with a heavy breath. 'You want something real?' 'Yes.' 'I came to your room tonight to learn if what you said at dinner was true. That I was the first person to ever seen you. That I was the first thing you ever chose for yourself. That you chose me when you knew me as Hawke, and even after you learned the truth, you still chose me,' he growled, his eyes luminous. 'I came here tonight to learn if you really felt like you were betraying Vikter and Rylan, all the others and yourself. I came here to see if that'd changed. Was all of that real, or were you just pretending?' I took a step back, entirely too exposed, and it had nothing to do with the ridiculous nightgown. I hadn't expected him to go there. I wasn't sure why, but I hadn't. He shook his head as he barked out a short, humourless laugh. 'Yeah. Silence. As usual. That's why there was never a reason to tell you any of those things you've demanded from me.' I stared up at him, hands and arms trembling. 'I don't know what you want from me.' 'Everything,' he bit out between clenched teeth. 'I want everything.

There was a bustle of people in the street as I made my way to La Bonbonnière, which is, quite simply, the most beautiful candy store in the world. The best thing about La Bonbonnière is that it's all windows. Before I even walk through the door I am greeted by a fuzzy three-foot-high statue of a polar bear trying to dip his paws into a copper cauldron filled with marrons glacés--- whole candied chestnuts. Each one was meticulously wrapped in gold foil, a miniature gift in and of itself. If nothing else, Christmas in Provence reminds you of a time when sugar was a luxury as fine and rare as silk. Back to my assignment: I needed two kinds of nougat: white soft nougat made with honey, almonds, and fluffy egg whites (the angel's part) and hard dark nougat--- more like honey almond brittle--- for the devil. Where are the calissons d'Aix? There they are, hiding behind the cash register, small ovals of almond paste covered with fondant icing. Traditional calissons are flavored with essence of bitter almond, but I couldn't resist some of the more exotic variations: rose, lemon verbena, and génépi, an astringent mountain herb. Though I love the tender chew of nougat and the pliant sweetness of marzipan, my favorite of the Provençal Christmas treats is the mendiant--- a small disk of dark or milk chocolate topped with dried fruit and nuts representing four religious orders: raisins for the Dominicans, hazelnuts for the Augustinians, dried figs for the Franciscans, and almonds for the Carmelites. When Alexandre is a bit older, I think we'll make these together. They seem like an ideal family project--- essentially puddles of melted chocolate with fruit and nut toppings. See, as soon as you say "puddles of melted chocolate," everyone's on board. Though fruits confits--- candied fruit--- are not, strictly speaking, part of les trieze desserts, I can't resist. I think of them as the crown jewels of French confiserie, and Apt is the world capital of production. Dipped in sugar syrup, the fruits become almost translucent; whole pears, apricots, and strawberries glow from within like the gems in a pirate's treasure chest. Slices of kiwi, melon, and angelica catch the light like the panes of a stained-glass window. All the dazzling tastes of a Provençal summer, frozen in time.

Let us Let us fall in love and be romantics once again, Let us kiss our desires again and again, Let me pursue my feelings in your beautiful eyes, Let us dive into them and feel the love that lies beyond these eyes, Let us wear our emotions all over us, To feel the kiss of love all over us, Let us become the daylight and spread everywhere, Or maybe in that secret somewhere where your beauty is everywhere, Let me love you now and love you forever, And let your heart confess it has felt the kiss of the true lover, My darling Irma, let our love be the only event in our lives, And let us only grow being a part of our beautiful love lives, Let you be the summer day that never ends, And let all my beginnings in your beautiful eyes find their ends, Let me belong to you just like the Moon belongs to the sky, Let us create a world where there is only your and my love’s sky, Let your feelings like the scent of the rose sink into my senses, And then let us love each other with all our senses, Let us reside in some quiet corner together, Where there is only one sound, that of our two hearts beating together, Let us travel together from our today into our every tomorrow, And carry our love into every moment that represents every tomorrow, Let us walk through the corridors of time, And leave the essence of our love as our signature in every moment of time, Then let me hold your hand and travel somewhere, Because now with our love’s essence residing in time, you shall be everywhere, even in places called somewhere, Let me say it again and again, that my heart beats for you, And then let every moment of time echo with these words, “my darling Irma I love you!” Let the drops of dew reflect your grace, And then let every flower bear the beauty of just one beautiful face, and your grace, Let the moments of time rain over you and me, And then let me find you everywhere within me, Finally let the night conceal us in its dark and mystical shades, And let us transform into love’s most beautiful cascades, only bearing your and my shades, Then let the river of love flow into the valley of promises, And let me find you in beautiful roses and let us now fulfill our promises!

for Dunaway, constantly kneeling or sprawling to take photographs, her legs, especially her thighs, are far more important to her performance than her eyes; her flesh gives off heat. Tommy Lee Jones is the police lieutenant who represents old-fashioned morality, and when the neurotically vulnerable Laura, who has become telepathic about violence, falls in love with him, they’re a very creepy pair. With the help of the editor, Michael Kahn, Kershner glides over the gaps in the very uneven script (by John Carpenter and David Z. Goodman, with an assist from Julian Barry). The cast includes Raul Julia, Rose Gregorio, Meg Mundy, and Bill Boggs (as himself). Columbia. color (See When the Lights Go Down.)

Blossoming flowers imply fulfillment, hope, and the flowering of new skills (either magickal or mundane). Buttercups represent business success; carnations and roses speak of love; irises predict forthcoming communications from friends or loved ones; and primroses herald new friendships.

For Graham, a properly ordered family was a patriarchal one. Because Graham believed that God had cursed women to be under man’s rule, he believes that wives should submit to husbands’ authority. Graham acknowledged that this would come as a shock to certain “dictatorial wives,” and he didn’t hesitate to offer Christian housewives helpful tips: When a husband comes home from work, run out and kiss him. “Give him love at any cost. Cultivate modesty and the delicacy of yourh. Be attractive.” Keep a clean house and don’t “nag and complain all the time.” He had advice for men, too. A man was God’s representative—the spiritual head of household, “the protector” and “provider of the home.” Also, husbands should remember to give wives a box of candy from time to time, or an orchid. Or maybe roses.

Of course the rose has plenty of other associations beyond the realm of love and sex. It has served as a royal emblem and national flower. It represents Christian charity, the brevity of life, and hopes for happiness, a time when everything will come up roses. Secular and spiritual roses are often intertwined....