Flower Quotes by William Shakespeare · Page 3

April ... hath put a spirit of youth in everything.

— William Shakespeare

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet

— William Shakespeare

Cold indeed, and labor lost: Then farewell heat, and welcome frost!

— William Shakespeare

Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.

— William Shakespeare

“Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.”

— William Shakespeare

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die

— William Shakespeare

As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.

— William Shakespeare

“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. (Sonnet XCVIII)”

— William Shakespeare

His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With…

— William Shakespeare

Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares…

— William Shakespeare

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like…

— William Shakespeare

“the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites Made proud by princes, that advance…

— William Shakespeare

Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

— William Shakespeare

In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—

— William Shakespeare

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.

— William Shakespeare

Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it…

— William Shakespeare

The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.

— William Shakespeare

Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

— William Shakespeare

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

— William Shakespeare

Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.

— William Shakespeare

Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.

— William Shakespeare

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.

— William Shakespeare

“The April's in her eyes: it is love's Spring, And these the showers to bring it on..”

— William Shakespeare

I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.

— William Shakespeare

Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.

— William Shakespeare

Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow

— William Shakespeare

Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.

— William Shakespeare

Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.

— William Shakespeare

“Small herbs have grace, great weeds to grow apace.”

— William Shakespeare

“Be the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it”

— William Shakespeare

If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto…

— William Shakespeare

What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.

— William Shakespeare

At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that…

— William Shakespeare

He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.

— William Shakespeare

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when…

— William Shakespeare

Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in…

— William Shakespeare

. . . it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is…

— William Shakespeare

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold…

— William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds…

— William Shakespeare

Fair ladies, masked, are roses in their bud; Dismasked, the damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

— William Shakespeare