My best friend is Lily Aldridge. Her daughter's my godchild.
I had wondered for a long time why God had preferences and why all souls did not receive an equal amount of grace [. . . ] Jesus saw fit to enlighten me about this mystery. He set the book of nature before me and I saw that all the flowers He has created are lovely. The splendor of the rose and whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. I realized that if every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness and there would be no wild flowers to make the meadows gay.
As a water bead on a lotus leaf, as water on a red lily, does not adhere, so the sage does not adhere to the seen, the heard, or the sensed.
I know a little garden close Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night. And have one with me wandering.
The older I get the more I trust in the law according to which the rose and the lily bloom.
Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. “I thought it was the perfect plan. . . a bluff. . . Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you. . . It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.
A pathetic shadow, torn between her envy and thrill of being seen with Masomma, sharing in the attention as a weed would, lapping up water meant for the lily upstream.
I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.
When he spoke, the roughness was gone from his voice. "I could tell you I did it. That's what you wanna hear. I could tell you she did it to herself, but both ways I'd be lying. It was you who did it, Lily. You didn't mean it, but it was you.
So what else can I tell you?" I asked. "I mean, to get you to reveal Lily to me.
I think it is good for people who are incarcerated or who are bound up one way or the other-people like Lily Kimball and all the prostitues of Memphis. This gal, she needs some wings, and a good song can make that happen.
It is part of wisdom never to revisit a wilderness, for the more golden the lily, the more certain that someone has gilded it
[Lily] "Petunia's hair is too curly to braid," She said conversationally. Oliver wasn't sure why, but that was what finally made him blush.
Your name is written on my heart, Lily
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily. . . is wasteful and ridiculous excess
Selden and Lily stood still, accepting the unreality of the scene as a part of their own dream-like sensations. It would not have surprised them to feel a summer breeze on their faces, or to see the lights among the boughs reduplicated in the arch of a starry sky. The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the sweetness of being alone in it together.
There is some kiss we want with your whole lives, the touch of spirit on the body. Seawater begs the pearl to break its shell. And the lily, how passionately it needs some wild darling.
I like when I use music in film that it isn't just gilding the lily and it isn't telling you how to feel. It's giving you something, some other information that you cannot otherwise get in the scene.
Is not disease the rule of existence? There is not a lily pad floating on the river but has been riddled by insects. Almost every shrub and tree has its gall, oftentimes esteemed its chief ornament and hardly to be distinguished from the fruit. If misery loves company, misery has company enough. Now, at midsummer, find me a perfect leaf or fruit.
Set NOT your hearts on the flowers of this world. They shall fade and die. Prize the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley. He changes not! Live nearer to Christ than to any person on this earth; so that when they are taken, you may have Him to love and lean upon.
