Lavender Quotes

Quotes tagged as "lavender" Showing 1-17 of 17
Alice Hoffman
“There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.”
Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Vera Nazarian
“When hope is fleeting, stop for a moment and visualize, in a sky of silver, the crescent of a lavender moon. Imagine it -- delicate, slim, precise, like a paper-thin slice from a cabochon jewel.

It may not be very useful, but it is beautiful.

And sometimes it is enough.”
Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Vannoy Gentles Fite
“I believe that for every illness or ailment known to man, that God has a plant out here that will heal it. We just need to keep discovering the properties for natural healing.”
Vannoy Gentles Fite, Essential Oils for Healing: Over 400 All-Natural Recipes for Everyday Ailments

Dalai Lama XIV
“Meanwhile, spring came, and with it the outpourings of Nature. The hills were soon splashed with wild flowers; the grass became an altogether new and richer shade of green; and the air became scented with fresh and surprising smells -- of jasmine, honeysuckle, and lavender.”
Dalai Lama XIV, Freedom in Exile: The Autobiography of the Dalai Lama

Roald Dahl
“The next day she carried her secret weapon to school in her satchel. She was tingling with excitement. She was longing to tell matilda about her plan of battle. In fact, she wanted to tell the whole class. But she finally decided to tell nobody. It was better that way, because then no one, even when put under the most severe torture, would be able to name her as a culprit.”
Roald Dahl, Matilda

Deborah Lawrenson
“At the door to the shop, a bell tinkled, and moments later they seemed to enter the very flowering of lavender.
The scent was all around them; it curled and diffused in the air with a sweet warmth and subtlety, then burst with a peppery, musky intensity. The blind girls moved into another room. There they arranged themselves expectantly around a long wooden table, Mme Musset welcomed them, and a cork was pulled with a squeaky pop.
"This is pure essence of lavender, grown on the Valensole plateau," said Madame. "It is in a glass bottle I am sending around to the right for you all to smell. Be patient, and you will get your turn."
Other scents followed: rose and mimosa and oil of almond. Now that they felt more relaxed, some of the other girls started being silly, pretending to sniff too hard and claiming the liquid leapt up at them. Marthe remained silent and composed, concentrating hard. Then came the various blends: the lavender and rosemary antiseptic, the orange and clove scent for the house in winter, the liqueur with the tang of juniper that made Marthe unexpectedly homesick for her family's farming hamlet over the hills to the west, where as a child she had been able to see brightness and colors and precise shapes of faces and hills and fruits and flowers.”
Deborah Lawrenson, The Sea Garden

Judith M. Fertig
“I walked back to the front of the bakery to see a knot of people stalking our display for June. Apricot and lavender might seem like an unusual pairing, but it made perfect sense to me. Luscious, sweet apricots taste best when they're baked and the flavor is concentrated. On the other hand, lavender likes it cool; the buds have a floral, almost astringent flavor. Lavender was a line drawing that I filled in with brushstrokes of lush apricot.”
Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

Ranjani Ramachandran
“Seasons passed by. I always loved to watch the trees in our garden. With the first rain, the leaves would
drench themselves. Slowly they would grow tired of the rain and droop. So would I, grow tired of
waiting for him to look at me, talk to me. Slowly the leaves would dry up, and fall to the ground. It
resembled a naked and shameless woman, trying to woo her husband. And the season would change,
and the leaves would shoot slowly trying to gain the lost vigor. It would start blooming and look in its
best form. The tree would be so overwhelmed by its own beauty that it would call upon the butterfly
and birds. It would make everyone happy. But has anyone wondered how it feels? It feels like me.”
Ranjani Ramachandran, Fourteen Urban Folklore

Laura Chouette
“Her love was like lavender,
delicate and melancholy.”
Laura Chouette, The Painting of Mrs. Ravensbrook

Ranjani Ramachandran
“His ego and complex always overpowered his emotions.”
Ranjani Ramachandran, Fourteen Urban Folklore

Ranjani Ramachandran
“We were strangers under the same roof. We were perfect pretenders in the stage of the world.”
Ranjani Ramachandran, Fourteen Urban Folklore

Deborah Lawrenson
“Blonde hair and blue eyes," she repeated. "The lavender fairy."
"Now, hang on a minute!"
"Just like the lavender fairy has. There's an old story about the beautiful fairy called Lavandula who was born in the wild lavender of the Lure mountain. She grew up and began to wander further from the mountain, looking for somewhere special to make her home. One day she came across the stony, uncultivated landscapes of Haute Provence, and the pitiful sight made her so sad she cried hot tears- hot mauve tears that fell into the ground and stained it. And that is where, ever afterwards, the lavender of her birthplace began to grow.”
Deborah Lawrenson, The Sea Garden

Lisa Kleypas
“She wandered to one of the lavender stalks and touched the tiny violet-blue blossoms, and brought her scented fingertips to her throat. "They extract the essential oil by forcing steam through the plants and drawing off the liquid. It takes something like five hundred pounds of lavender plants to produce just a few precious ounces of oils.”
Lisa Kleypas, It Happened One Autumn

Rebecca Rasmussen
“After Twiss went out the barn, Milly went up to their bedroom with the brown paper bag. She looked out the window before she turned it upside down and the bars of lavender soap shaped like seashells and the card shaped like a rectangle came tumbling out. Asa's name graced the front of the card. A note graced the back.

'I know why you did it, Milly. Bella swings a golf club just like him.'

Milly sat a long time on her old twin mattress, staring at the fleur-de-lis carved into the headboard, at the life that didn't belong to her and the life that did, before she placed the soaps beneath the velvet tray in her jewelry box and closed it. She never washed her hands with a single one of the seashell-shaped soaps, although from time to time, when Twiss had gone for a walk or to the barn, she'd open her jewelry box and examine her only secret.
'La joie de vivre.' The scent of lavender. Forgiveness. Age-old love.”
Rebecca Rasmussen, The Bird Sisters

Melanie Dobson
“He unzipped the nylon case, and inside was a discolored frame that smelled like smoke. A thin layer of soot covered the painting under the glass- a picture of an old manor house. Gothic Victorian. Wisteria climbed the wall near the entrance, the pale-lavender blossoms clinging to the gray stone. The artist had brushed flowers below the windows as well, though those colors had been muted by the smoke damage.”
Melanie Dobson, Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor

Marsha Mehran
“Estelle had even tried her own concoction of rosemary and lavender, which she plucked from the little herb garden around the back of her cottage. Boiling the leaves down until only their dark oils remained, she would then mix in a good amount of Umbrian olive oil sent by her niece, Gloria, from London. The oil left her Mediterranean skin taut like snappy brindle berries, a fact that spurred envy among the old townswomen and prompted Dervla Quigley to spread rumors that Estelle Delmonico had made a deal with the fairies, for sure.”
Marsha Mehran, Pomegranate Soup

Aimee Bender
“I loved my dish towel. This one was two-toned, and had, on one side, stitchings of fat purple roses on a lavender background, and on the other side, fat lavender roses on a purple background. Which side to use? An optical-illusion namesake with which I could dry our dishes. It was soft and worn and smelled like no-nonsense laundry detergent.”
Aimee Bender, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake