He Who Wants A Rose Must Respect The Thorn Novels & Stories

Harnum smiled looking at the flower garden. Harnum really enjoyed the atmosphere of the flower garden. He holds and smells various types of flowers. While he was enjoying the flowers, his eyes fell on a red rose that was blooming. Harnum ran over to him. Harnum intended to pick the rose, however, because the stem of the rose had thorns, the thorn accidentally hit his finger. "Aww! Sshh," Harnum hissed.

She happily accepted the flower. Lucas doesn't seem to grasp what she's saying. thorns? “What are thorns?” he wondered. “Did you notice the spike around the stem? It's known as the throne. If you are not careful, it may cause you harm.” Anna explained. “Why would such a lovely flower have thorns?” Lucas asked. He still couldn't figure it out. Anna cast a soft glance at him. “The thorns are guarding the roses because they are afraid someone will harm them.” She explained.

Just battered and trampled upon by the tough world we're in. My life wasn't all perfect but my parents did their best to make my life a literal bed of roses. I never lacked anything. I had it all if I wanted to. But I'd never thought of someone whose life was far from being roses. Dwyer's life was like the thorn of the roses. Not smooth and beautiful like mine but still we made our way to each other. His rough and sharp edges could cut through my delicate petals but we were made to be able to take all that together. Roses and thorns are made to be together. And I'm going to believe I was made to be with him. No matter who he was.

Soon I zoned out and was only me the music. "Look for thorns in the roses, perfect little posers." London: "Hiding behind closets, planning your demise, shit!" "Everybody blame the misfits and eccentric." London: "This world's already fucked, we didn't add anything to it!" "Crying out for help!" London: "Crying out for fucking help!" "No one seems to care!" London "She was the only one to scrape her hands!" "For the rose in the thorn bush!" Another musical interlude ensues and London repeats the first verse as the song is structured like that.

The flowers bloomed happily, in all shades of the fluorescent and pastel rainbow. The blood red rose that stood upward in front of the field beamed at me, with the rugged thorns clashing anything that would dare to put a finger on the stem. I was tempted by my own curiosity, my own feelings of danger for this single rose. The rose was me guarded and kept away. I bent down to study the marvelous waving rose in the wind. So happy she once was. So loved she is now. So surrounded by happy beings and she can't seem to forget about her past that darkens her every petal, she's dying inside.

Niles hesitated for a moment, then said evenly, “Because, sir…even a rose with the sweetest scent still carries thorns for the hand that holds it too tightly.” I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But Niles only gave that faint, knowing smile of his. “Nothing, sir. Just an old saying.” He turned and left quietly. The room felt heavier after he was gone. I leaned back in my chair, his words echoing in my head. A rose with thorns... Isabella.

CHAPTER 76 Damien’s POV A sharp pain suddenly shot up the nerves in my finger, and I realized that a thorn had pricked me. Whoever had dropped the rose must have left the thorns on purpose. I rubbed my finger, smearing the blood around. Irritated, I flicked the rose into the nearby bin and ripped the note open. “I'm pretty sure that that hurts. You're going to hurt a lot more if you don't stop looking for her.”

he retorted and eyed at me once more. "You appear to be a rose because of your alluring smile, your softness as of its petals that arise to be fragrant. You can be anyone's favorite, for you give beauty to the days of their life." He paused for a moment and his deep regards were mesmerizing my countenance. "Yet, you have those deadly thorns which once pricketh onto their cores, they shall surely lose their life." He chuckled and pinched my cheek which caused me to frown at him. "You know what I mean," he added.

The flowers are of every kind and the willow tree is dancing with the wind, it’s really beautiful. Now that I have aborted my stupidity, I strode toward the plants where roses are growing and start to pluck one but Cary stops me with his hand clutching mine. “It’s filled with thorn Thia, careful,” Cary says smiling at me and plucks the rose himself. He gives it to me and I take it and smile at him feeling thankful. I open my mouth to thank him with words but before I could even utter a word, Cary is no longer standing in front of me.

He put it on the back seat and glanced at the light through the window. He put his hand on the wheel. It suddenly tingled. His brow furrowed as he opened his left hand. There were rose thorns between his index and middle fingers. They must have gone into his palm when he broke the roses. He blandly removed them, humming happily, and then started the car to leave. The red rose was the symbol of passionate and loyal love. So how could he let the roses just stay there?