Thistle Quotes

1. "Eli: Cursed be the ground for our sake. Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for us. For out of the ground we were taken, for the dust we are... and to the dust we shall return"
Author: Book Of Eli Movie

2. "For, as in the material world ye find that ye do not gather figs from thistles, neither in the mental world may one think hate and find love in one's bosom; neither in the spiritual realm may one entertain the desire for ego to express irrespective of others and find the beauty of the spiritual thinking life."
Author: Edgar Cayce

3. "Humph." She peered down suspiciously as he parted the leaves to reveal the choke. "That doesn't look very tasty.""That's because it isn't," he said. "Pay heed: the artichoke is a shy vegetable. She covers herself in spine-tipped leaves that must be carefully peeled away, and underneath shields her treasure with a barricade o' soft needles. They must be tenderly, but firmly, scraped aside. Ye must be bold, for if yer not, she'll never reveal her soft heart."He finished cutting away the thistles and placed the small, tender heart on the center of her plate.She wrinkled her nose. "That's it? But it's so small.""Ah, and d'ye judge a thing solely upon size alone?"She made a choking sound."
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

4. "One of the new things people began to find out in the last century was that thoughts—just mere thoughts—are as powerful as electric batteries—as good for one as sunlight is, or as bad for one as poison. To let a sad thought or a bad one get into your mind is as dangerous as letting a scarlet fever germ get into your body. If you let it stay there after it has got in you may never get over it as long as you live... surprising things can happen to any one who, when a disagreeable or discouraged thought comes into his mind, just has the sense to remember in time and push it out by putting in an agreeable determinedly courageous one. Two things cannot be in one place."Where you tend a rose, my lad, A thistle cannot grow."
Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett

5. "A crippled childSaid, "How shall I dance?"Let your heart danceWe said.Then the invalid said:"How shall I sing?"Let your heart singWe saidThen spoke the poor dead thistle,"But I, how shall I dance?"Let your heart fly to the windWe said.Then God spoke from above"How shall I descend from the blue?"Come dance for us here in the lightWe said.All the valley is dancingTogether under the sun,And the heart of him who joins us notIs turned to dust, to dust."
Author: Gabriela Mistral

6. "Marriage, which has been the bourne of so many narratives, is still a great beginning, as it was to Adam and Eve, who kept their honey-moon in Eden, but had their first little one among the thorns and thistles of the wilderness. It is still the beginning of the home epic - the gradual conquest or irremediable loss of that complete union which make the advancing years a climax, and age the harvest of sweet memories in common."
Author: George Eliot

7. "He who makes soup of thistles is ill qualified to discuss the savor of a stalled ox.Chinese Sayings"
Author: Helen Evans Brown

8. "Final DispositionOthers divided closets full of mother's things.From the earth, I took her poppies.I wanted those fandango foldsof red and black chiffon she doted on,loving the wild and Moorish music of them,coating her tongue with the thin skinof their crimson petals.Snapping her fingers, flamenco dancer,she'd mock the clack of castanetsin answer to their gypsy cadence.She would crouch toward the flounce of flowers,twirl, stamp her foot, then kick it outas if to lift the ruffles, scarletalong the hemline of her yard.And so, I dug up, soil and all,the thistle-toothed and gray-green clumpsof leaves, the testicle seedpods and hairy stemsboth out of season, to transplant them in my less-exotic garden. There, they bloomher blood's abandon, year after year,roots holding, their poppy heads noddinga carefree, opium-ecstatic, possibly forever sleep."
Author: Jane Glazer

9. "The heart's actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can't not."
Author: Jane Hirshfield

10. "And we were taught to play golf. Golf epitomizes the tame world. On a golf course nature is neutered. The grass is clean, a lawn laundry that wipes away the mud, the insect, the bramble, nettle and thistle, an Eezy-wipe lawn where nothing of life, dirty and glorious, remains. Golf turns outdoors into indoors, a prefab mat of stultified grass, processed, pesticided, herbicided, the pseudo-green of formica sterility. Here, the grass is not singing. The wind cannot blow through it. Dumb expression, greenery made stupid, it hums a bland monotone in the key of the mono-minded. No word is emptier than a golf tee. No roots, it has no known etymology, it is verbal nail polish. Worldwide, golf is an arch act of enclosure, a commons fenced and subdued for the wealthy, trampling serf and seedling. The enemy of wildness, it is a demonstration of the absolute dominion of man over wild nature."
Author: Jay Griffiths

11. "The world owes its enchantment to these curious creatures and their fancies; but its multiple complicity rejects them. Thistledown spirits, tragic, heartrending in their evanescence, they must go blowing headlong to perdition."
Author: Jean Cocteau

12. "I wasn't born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilightNo I was all horns and thorns sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright."
Author: Joanna Newsom

13. "Heidi loudly wailed, "Oh I want to go home. What the poor snowhopper will do without me? Grandmother is waiting for me everyday. Poor Thistlefinch gets blows if Peter gets no cheese, and I must see the sun again when he says good-night to the mountains. How the eagle would screech if he saw all the people here in Frankfurt."
Author: Johanna Spyri

14. "Cultivo una rosa blanca,En julio como en enero,Para el amigo sinceroQue me da su mano franca.Y para el cruel que me arrancaEl corazon con que vivo,Cardo ni oruga cultivoCultivo una rosa blanca.I have a white rose to tendIn July as in January;I give it to the true friendWho offers his frank hand to me.And to the cruel one whose blowsBreak the heart by which I live,Thistle nor thorn do I give:For him, too, I have a white rose."
Author: José Martí

15. "I want it said of me by those who know me best that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow."
Author: Joshua Wolf Shenk

16. "Still, they were two thorns from the same thistle. Their tactics in terrorizing innocent ladies were identical. Their behavior was downright sinful, but what made it even worse was the fact that neither warrior seemed to realize the effect he had on others."
Author: Julie Garwood

17. "The soul grows into lovely habits as easily as into ugly ones, and the moment a life begins to blossom into beautiful words and deeds, that moment a new standard of conduct is established, and your eager neighbors look to you for a continuous manifestation of the good cheer, the sympathy, the ready wit, the comradeship, or the inspiration, you once showed yourself capable of. Bear figs for a season or two, and the world outside the orchard is very unwilling you should bear thistles."
Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin

18. "A trail made of pine needles and thistles leads you into the green darkness. The canopy casts shadows on old oaks and dogwoods, and you think you can smell the sour breath of a witch behind you. The wind sighs like a sleeping girl, carrying her bittersweet dreams along the paths to attract any man willing to look for thorn-covered castles. A wolf darts between fallen, rotted wood; maybe he's the one who can tell you where your heart is, how you're still breathing."
Author: Kimberly Karalius

19. "I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage."
Author: L.M. Montgomery

20. "Man would not be man if his dreams did not exceed his grasp. ... Like John Donne, man lies in a close prison, yet it is dear to him. Like Donne's, his thoughts at times overleap the sun and pace beyond the body. If I term humanity a slime mold organism it is because our present environment suggest it. If I remember the sunflower forest it is because from its hidden reaches man arose. The green world is his sacred center. In moments of sanity he must still seek refuge there. ... If I dream by contrast of the eventual drift of the star voyagers through the dilated time of the universe, it is because I have seen thistledown off to new worlds and am at heart a voyager who, in this modern time, still yearns for the lost country of his birth."
Author: Loren Eiseley

21. "(Mam) ignorant as a thistle, married to a drunk and pushing out baby after baby, each of which had to be clothed and fed until it grew up and left, or died."
Author: Meg Rosoff

22. "A man that hoards up riches and enjoys them not, is like an ass that carries gold and eats thistles."
Author: Richard Burton

23. "The destroyer of weeds, thistles, and thorns is a benefactor whether he soweth grain or not."
Author: Robert G. Ingersoll

24. "Untilled ground, however rich, will bring forth thistles and thorns; so also the mind of man."
Author: Teresa Of Ávila

25. "... and had a face like a bulldog licking vinegar off a thistle..."
Author: Terry Pratchett

26. "The higher that the monkey can climb, the more he shows his tail.Call no man happy till he dies, there's no milk at the bottom of the pail.God builds a church and the devil builds a chapel, like the thistles that are growing 'round the trunk of a tree.All the good in the world you could put inside a thimble, and still have room for you and me.If there's one thing you can say about mankind, there's nothing kind about man.You can drive out nature with a pitchfork, but it always coming roaring back again.Misery's the river of the world, misery's the river of the world.Everybody row, everybody row;misery's the river of the world."
Author: Tom Waits

27. "A miser is like an ass that carries gold and eats thistles all its life."
Author: Vikrant Parsai

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