There is an infinity of landscape here, caused by the purity of the atmosphere. It has been said that there is a… — Hans Heysen Copy Share Image
The spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonlight, The lilac brimmed with dew.… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England ... Lilacs… — Amy Lowell Copy Share Image
On the first of May, with my comrades of the catechism class, I laid lilac, chamomile and rose before the altar of… — Sidonie Gabrielle Colette Copy Share Image
When you're on top and you lead the parade, everyone's there throwing lilies and lilac water on your head. But when those… — Sylvester Stallone Copy Share Image
At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing… — Jack Kerouac Copy Share Image
Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street — John McCrae Copy Share Image
“And stay, my dear stay... forever, as my quiet song, in my lilac dawn.” — Sanober Khan Copy Share Image
“Lilac won’t talk to me again. There’s a tremor. Lilac won’t kiss me again. I won’t hear her laugh. My lungs constrict.… — Amie Kaufman Copy Share Image
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. — Anonymous Copy Share Image
A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is… — Amy Lowell Copy Share Image
A faint smell of lilac filled the air. There was always lilac in this part of town. Where there were grandmothers, there… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“I've not much interest in the important things of life. Only in the beautiful things. Just this lilac here makes me happy.” — Erich Maria Remarque Copy Share Image
My grandmother had a lilac bush at her home in Long Island. I always associate the scent of it with her and… — Aerin Lauder Copy Share Image
He walked by instinct along one white road, on which early birds hopped and sang, and found himself outside a fenced garden.… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
I tremble with pleasure when I think that on the very day of my leaving prison both the laburnum and the lilac… — Oscar Wilde Copy Share Image
Bastian had climbed a dune of purplish-red sand and all around him he saw nothing but hill after hill of every imaginable… — Michael Ende Copy Share Image
my mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and… — e. e. cummings Copy Share Image
