White Oleander Book Quotes Novels & Stories

Luna Sandra released a relieved breath and said, "What is it?" Nurse Julia removed the cloth, revealing a purplish substance beneath. Beta Henry furrowed his brows and questioned, "What exactly is this?" "This is a poisonous plant. Once it grows near other plants, it destroys their growth, rendering them useless. Hence, it's called Nerium oleander." Nurse Julia's expression carried a somber tone. Having lived in the inner court for a long time, she had encountered various impurities. She had assumed that the Seldom family wouldn't have met such contaminants...

"What is this?" "Oleander. It takes four days to work." I don't even want to know how she knows this shit. I pulled my phone and called mom. "Elena, did you know your hedge is a poison?" "What?" "This pretty pink flower, did you know it's poisonous?" "Where are you?" "In your driveway." "Well what are you doing there?" "Just answer the question Elena." "Your father said something about it once but I didn't pay it no mind. I think you have to eat a lot of it or something like that."

"My word, Princess, it's almost as if you are trying to figure me out." "You vex me, is all." His smile holds, and... butterflies flutter across my belly. Why does he insist on calling me ‘princess’? "Okay, so no pink roses in your section.” He utters and jots something down in the papers he holds in his hand, using the truck for support. “So, what flowers do you want in this section, then." "Oleanders. Red, oleanders." “Oleanders as in poisonous flowers?" "Only if you eat them. Do you see me grazing for my meals in the gardens?"

And when they did, I would not just be the witness. I would be the keeper. One evening, I sat again at the pedestal in the glade. The book was open to a page I hadn’t written. It read: “The root will grow where it is kept warm, but it will bloom where it is shared.” I thought of the figures, of the way they had tested me, of the way the root’s warmth had answered only when I had asked it to live not for me, but for all of us. I closed the book gently.

“Soooo, you're an immortal weed-whacker. That explains the angel in the woods you cleaned. You have OCD, and you trimmed it. Does Death get a flower too?” I do. It's an old, old rose. “What's mine like?” A lily of the valley. “That's lame. Too much like the Song of Solomon. I think I should be a ginkgo.” They smell putrid. “They're pretty. Why aren't you a Venus flytrap? Not a stupid, clichéd rose.” I am a cliché, maggot. So is this whole bloody place. I am alone. It sickens me most of the time. I liked it when it was cold. When there was frost and the hills were barren-

The words echoed throughout the empty house, and Olivia felt a sudden surge of power coursing through her veins. As she continued to read, Olivia started to feel uneasy. She began to wonder if the book was cursed or if there was something sinister hidden within its pages. Despite her growing fear, she couldn't bring herself to put the book down. It was as if something was drawing her deeper and deeper into its spell. "Vindicta est mea, ira est mea, actio est mea, Quod redit ad me, repeto in illos qui mihi nocuerunt.

It would happen to him sometimes, stop in his tracks and remember he had a life to live, this life and no other and yet he felt as though there were other lifetimes before what he was living. After class, he left the room and walked towards the tree, picked an orange fruit from the tree, was about to peel it when he became more interested in the flowers. He garnered a few one of which he crushed in the palm of hand and smelled with a swoon, Oh, sweet Neroli.

The blank book upon the stone table turned another page by itself. For the first time... Its pages were no longer empty. A single line appeared. Not in green. Not in white. But in the unnamed color. Every member of the council leaned forward to read it. The words were simple. "The greatest gardens are grown by those who never realize they planted them."

"She never let me stay gone." Luca raised his glass. "To unfinished sentences." They drank. Veronica stood. Walked to the long table. Lifted the notebook. Opened it to the afterword Ethan had added. She read the final line aloud. "And we burn still. Bright. Endless. Unapologetic." Silence followed. Then Elise spoke softly. "May we all burn that way." They raised glasses again. The fire snapped. The sea whispered. The house held every voice. Every touch. Every promise kept.

Flora's voice grew chillier as she muttered," maybe these realizings are n't the end, but the morning of a trail I must walk by myself. occasionally the most true trueness are the bones that ramify all ties." As the echoes of their hurting discussion melted into the quiet hum of the night, Flora's final rumored words quivered in the air," maybe the bitter taste of verity is the only flavor left to savor and it may be too sour to ever swallow."