If they [Guns N' Roses] didn't get back together soon they would have missed their window and no one would have cared in 3 or 4 years.
Max Rose: Vo? What kind of name is that? Spader: What kind of name is Rose? Isn't that some kind of flower?
You don't blast a heart open," she said. "You coax and nurture it open, like the sun does to a rose.
They [Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun] had their disagreements, it wasn't all sunshine and roses, but it isn't that way for any married couple.
[A] truly humble spirit humbles itself as much amid honors as amid insults, acting like the honeybee which makes its honey equally as well from the dew that falls on the wormwood as from that which falls on the rose.
What mighty woes To thy imperial race from woman rose.
There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Because a rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose.
A story is told that Whistler once painted a tiny picture of a spray of roses. The artistry involved in the picture was magnificent. Never before, it seemed, had the art of man been able to execute quite so deftly a reproduction of the art of nature.
Like the withered roses of a once gay garland, the feelings of youth command in age a melancholy interest.
The mind does not create what it perceives, any more than the eye creates the rose.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
Lying on the front passenger seat, as if it didn't matter, was Rose's Diary. It Mattered.
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Pete Rose came over to the Phillies in '79 and he became the catalyst that helped us to put it all together.
If an evil spirit had to hide from God, it would hide in a diamond. If an angel had to hide from the Devil, it would hide in rose quartz.
The artist is he who can take something ordinary and wring out of it attar of roses.
She rose and followed her bust from the room.
Back to prison. Maybe if you fake a heart attack, I can make a break for it. (Rose Hathaway says to Lissa Dragomir)
The hard part of writing at all is sitting your ass down in a chair and writing it. There's always something better to do, like I've got an interview, sharpening the pencils, trimming the roses. There's always something better to do. Going to a writer's club?