Thorns And Roses Quotes Novels & Stories

If I aim for the stars, maybe I'll become one. I used to believe that with all my heart. But now I don't know what to believe anymore. It's nighttime, and my parents have gone to bed. They believe that I am an ordinary girl who follows the rules. But I am not shy anymore; I have blossomed into a rose. Roses come with thorns attached. Thorns are there to protect the beautiful flower from losing, from failing. And perhaps my attitude and determination to dance one last time is my version of growing thorns.

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.

I whispered to keep us sane. “Do you know why I named you Roses?” I asked her, though my lips cracked with thirst. “Because even in blood and thorns, roses bloom. You will bloom, my little one. Even if I wither.” I vowed with voice cracking. We walked until the night gave way to dawn, a pale smear of light clawing at the sky.

She shook her head and said, "Would you be willing to tell me your address?" "Rose Manor." "Rose?" A trace of confusion flashed in Thea's eyes. Suddenly, in her mind, she remembered many years ago when she stood in front of the courtyard wall of a wealthy villa, looking at the roses that filled the entire yard. Suddenly, she cried uncontrollably. Beside was the thin and weak Theodore, who saw her crying and silently held her hand. She cried and said, "Theodore, roses are clustered together with sisters and brothers, blooming and withering together, accompanied by loved ones, even if they wither, they are not alone. I want to be a rose."

The ruins faded into the mist, leaving only the whisper of wind through broken steel. But in my mind, I could still hear the last line of Beatrice’s note, Forgive me for the rose. And for the first time, I wondered if the rose had ever been a threat at all… or a warning we were too blind to understand.

He closed the door when I was in, bending down so we were eye level. “And because they’re delicate,” he answered, still on the topic of roses, “but they've got thorns. Just like someone I know.” He walked around and got into the car, but I still stared at where he had just stood. Delicate but with thorns… “Is that how you see me?” I asked softly, still looking out the window.

~Mia~ “I'm weeding around roses, what do you expect?” I deadpan. “Where's your gloves? You should've worn your gloves when you're very aware they'll be thorns around.” The thorns are not the only ones in my life. Thorne is acting like one as well. Thorne. Thorn. How ironic. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone nonchalant. “Isn't Madam Florence already suspicious of your constant presence in the garden?”

Do you know what's wrong with roses falling? Because when it first blooms, it's too beautiful. -Theodore Witson -------------------------------- "Rose, thank you again. I don't know what my life would be like without your help." I hugged tightly the body of the beautiful woman, who was currently returning my warmth. "You're welcome," Rose whispered as she gently rubbed up and down my shoulders. "In what way should I repay your kindness?"

"Don't you think it's a bit random to have a cactus in the middle of a bunch of flowers?" "Don't you feel like the thorns on the cactus are kind of like me?" Liesel asked, not answering the question. Her response sounded rather abstract, but Elijah could understand where she was coming from. He grabbed her soft fingers and squeezed them lightly. "The most beautiful flower should have the sharpest thorns to protect itself. If you don't like that, then I can be your thorn." "I already have many thorns." Liesel put down the watering can to cock an eyebrow at him. There was a gentle amusement in her eyes.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."