In lantern-light My yellow Chrysanthemums Lost all their…

I look for myself but find no one. I belong to the chrysanthemum hour of bright flowers placed in tall vases. I should make…

— Fernando Pessoa

The chrysanthemums' astringent fragrance comes Each year to disguise the clanking mechanism Of machine within machine within machine.

— Wallace Stevens

We spent the first night of our honeymoon in a country hotel, with Tudor architecture oak beams, and floors which sloped, of the Queen-Elizabeth-Slept-Here…

— Jean Plaidy

A chrysanthemum by any other name would be easier to spell.

— Anonymous

The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk,…

— John Updike

The plants which stand next to dwarf trees in importance with the Chinese are certainly chrysanthemums, which they manage extremely well, perhaps better than…

— Robert Fortune

Chrysanthemums from gilded argosy Unload their gaudy senseless merchandise.

— Oscar Wilde

I seek and don’t find myself. I belong to chrysanthemum hours, neatly lined up in flowerpots.

— Fernando Pessoa

I search and can't find myself. I belong in chrysanthemum time, sharp in calla lily elongations. God made my soul into an ornamental thing.

— Fernando Pessoa

A grower of chrysanthemums awaited a visit from the emperor, who was coming to enjoy his blossoms, of which there were hundreds in bloom.…

— John Templeton

“Like the fires caught and fixed by a great colourist from the impermanence of the atmosphere and the sun, so that they should enter…

— Marcel Proust

It was a day as different from other days as dogs are from cats and both of them from chrysanthemums or tidal waves or…

— John Steinbeck

Some brave chrysanthemums still stood in the country gardens, but they looked like bedraggled survivors of a battle, barely able to hold their tattered…

— Patricia Moyes

Every year, in November, at the season that follows the hour of the dead, the crowning and majestic hours of autumn, I go to…

— Maurice Maeterlinck

The autumn breeze rises on the shore at Fukiage- and those white chrysanthemums are they flowers? or not? or only breakers on the beach?

— Sugawara no Michizane