Flower Quotes by George Herbert

Every mile is two in winter

— George Herbert

The life of man is a winter way.

— George Herbert

A fair day in winter is the mother of a storme.

— George Herbert

Feare keepes the garden better then the gardiner.

— George Herbert

The first and last frosts are the worst.

— George Herbert

Of faire things, the Autumne is faire.

— George Herbert

One faire day in winter makes not birds merrie.

— George Herbert

The market is the best garden.

— George Herbert

Benefits please like flowers while they are fresh.

— George Herbert

Reckon right, and February hath one and thirty daies.

— George Herbert

February makes a bridge and March breakes it. [February makes a bridge, and March breaks it.]

— George Herbert

He that is surprized with the first frost feeles it all the winter after.

— George Herbert

A garden must be looked unto and dressed as the body.

— George Herbert

The tree that growes slowly, keepes it selfe for another.

— George Herbert

A garden must be looked into, and dressed as the body.

— George Herbert

If the braine sowes not corne, it plants thistles.

— George Herbert

When the tree is fallen, all goe with their hatchet. [When the tree is fallen, all go with their hatchet.]

— George Herbert

Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise Their Master's flower, but leave it having done, As fair as ever and…

— George Herbert

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is even in the grave, And…

— George Herbert

Storms make the oak grow deeper roots.

— George Herbert

Hee that loves the tree, loves the branch.

— George Herbert

Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.

— George Herbert

Great trees are good for nothing but shade.

— George Herbert

To a child all weather is cold.

— George Herbert

A snow yeare, a rich yeare.

— George Herbert

A snow year, a rich year.

— George Herbert

Willowes are weak, yet they bind other wood.

— George Herbert

One flower makes no garland.

— George Herbert

The charges of building and making of gardens are unknowne.

— George Herbert

The filth under the white snow, the sunne discovers.

— George Herbert

The corne hides it self in the snow, as an old man in furrs.

— George Herbert