In Eastern lands they talk in flowers,
And they tell in a garland their loves and cares:
Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers
On its leaves a mystic language bears.
—Percival.
How the universal heart of man blesses flowers! They are wreathed round the cradle, the marriage altar, and the tomb.—Mrs. L.M. Child.
There is not the least flower but seems to hold up its head and to look pleasantly, in the secret sense of the goodness of its Heavenly Maker.—South.
Flowers knew how to preach divinity before men knew how to dissect and botanize them.—H.N. Hudson.
And with childlike credulous affection
We behold their tender buds expand;
Emblems of our own great resurrection,
Emblems of the bright and better land.
—Longfellow.
Fools.—He who provides for this life, but takes no care for eternity, is wise for a moment, but a fool forever.—Tillotson.
The wise man has his follies no less than the fool; but it has been said that herein lies the difference,—the follies of the fool are known to the world, but are hidden from himself; the follies of the wise are known to himself, but hidden from the world.—Colton.
People are never so near playing the fool as when they think themselves wise.—Lady Montagu.
To pardon those absurdities in ourselves which we cannot suffer in others is neither better nor worse than to be more willing to be fools ourselves than to have others so.—Pope.
Surely he is not a fool that hath unwise thoughts, but he that utters them.—Bishop Hall.