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There are thorns everywhere, but along the path of vice, roses bloom above them.
In the embers shining bright A garden grows for thy delight, With roses yellow, red, and white. But, O my child, beware, beware! Touch not the roses growing there, For every rose a thorn doth bear.
In the orchard and rose garden I long to see your face. In the taste of Sweetness I long to kiss your lips. In the shadows of passion I long for your love.
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are-- Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.
A picture of Christ was hung in the back of a pulpit. When the minister rose to speak one Sunday morning, a little boy asked his mother, 'Mother, who is that man who stands so we can't see Jesus?'
Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.
Prayer is the ascending vapor which supplies The showers of blessing, and the stream that flows Through earth's dry places, till on every side "The wilderness shall blossom as the rose.
A tulip doesn't strive to impress anyone. It doesn't struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn't have to. It is different. And there's room in the garden for every flower.
What the woman who labors wants is the right to live, not simply exist ... the right to life, and the sun and music and art ... The worker must have bread, but she must have roses too.
Even for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief, death cannot long divide; for is it not as if the rose that climbed my garden wall had bloomed the other side?
The moment the curtain rose on that first ballet, I knew something wonderful and new had come into my life. I can still see the first scene. The ballet was Divertimento No. 15
The word was enough. It ran like fire along the line, from man to man, and rose into a shout, with which they sprang forward upon the enemy, now not 30 yards away.
Also, when you think about a show that you used to watch as a kid or as a teenager, you look at it through sort of rose colored glasses when you remember it.