Picking Daisies on Sundays Quotes

“For the hopeless, and hopeful, romantics who don’t know they’re noticed in a crowded room.”
― liana cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads of my clothes”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I’ll buy you flowers every day for the rest of my life if it makes you this happy.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I want to be noticed in a crowded room. I want to be the only person in a crowded room. I want to be wanted, truly wanted, and desired. I want to laugh and to sing and to dance with someone and not feel self-conscious over it because I love them and I’m confident that they love me. I want to be touched and kissed and held because I’ve forgotten what it feels like…and yet, I think I deserve it.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Every poem in there is about you. Everything I wrote came back to you.” “My favorite flowers were always daisies.” “I'm saying that if I knew four years ago that you loved me, I would've never let you go.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“You intoxicate me, Daisy. The scent of flowers lingers on you everywhere you go, and I always want to follow,”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“The lover and the archer, they’d call it. The girl who kept falling in love, and the boy who could receive love from whomever he aimed his heart at.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“She lives in between the pinks and yellows of the world, where a beautiful color is unknown to others, and when she speaks, I become a bee enthralled in a field of daisies.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“The whole book,” he breathed. “Every poem in there is about you. Everything I wrote came back to you.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“You’re spring, baby. You’re more radiant than flowers and the sun and no one can take that away from you.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“My heart has been broken a million times by the same hand, yet I would let it happen a million times again if it meant it was by you.
I was weaker than I thought / my heart sagging like the stems of uncut, unkempt flowers because of the sunlight you held in your faraway heart / Maybe you weren't mine to love / I think I'm falling
The wallpaper above her bed frame was glued in my brain the way it was glued against her walls / I got so close to running my fingers against it / I wish I felt the confidence to tell you the truth, as strongly as I felt stubborn to hide it
Do you hear that? That's my heart knocking against my chest at the sight of you / I've never heard anything more terrifying / how could you provide me air and suffocate me at the same time?
Blue hydrangeas, pink tulips, red bleeding hearts / it's all you ever loved, but never yourself / I never understood why anyone spoke poorly of the color brown, it was a dream on you
And that kiss... I think about it all the time / was it wrong of me to think of you when you were never mine? / I feel lucky to have had you, but dismayed to know what life is like without you
Don't worry if the flowers pass, I'll be right there to plant you more / and when the soil grows old, I'll comfort it in the chaos of the storm
Am I a ghost in your story? / because you look at me with conviction when I don't even know the crime I committed
Burden me with your secrets / so I can carry the weight you're so fearful of letting go
To be close to you was to be haunted by what I couldn't have and to be reminded of how much I truly wanted you / and I'd be lying if I said I never thought about where my hands would take me across your body
Midnights and daydreaming hours of retracing steps to how we possibly got here / how did I ever let time pass this long without seeing you? / my heart was so full of our memories that painted my body like a scrapbook
I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads of my clothes / I would've gone down on my knees just to hear you say yes
Neck stiff, legs weak, eyes set on what we could've looked like if you hadn't left / 'moving on' was a broken record that I never had the strength to lift the needle off of / If hearts were meant to love then why did mine feel so empty? / and suddenly, I fell
Glances, gazes, eyes following places they shouldn't have seen / intimacy was to be seen by you; free falling was to be touched by you / there was no such thing as a crowded room where you stood
She lives in between the pinks and yellows of the world / where a beautiful color is unknown to others / and when she speaks, I become a bee enthralled in a field of daisies”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“To be close to you was to be haunted by what I couldn’t have and to be reminded of how much I truly wanted you”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Don't worry if the flowers pass, I'll be right there to plant you more. And when the soil grows old, I'll comfort it in the chaos of the storm.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Because when you find out the person you’ve been in love with for your entire life loves you back, you’ll spend the rest of your life making up for lost time.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy,” – Don’t Blame Me, Taylor Swift”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I feel lucky to have had you, but dismayed to know what life is like without you”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Everywhere we go, people are infatuated by you, looking at you and yearning to talk to you. I …” He paused for a long moment. “I am infatuated by you.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Scrapbooking didn’t work; watching endless romance films didn’t work; embroidering and quilting didn’t work; and writing a list of all of his cons definitely didn’t work because he had none.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Do you hear that? That’s my heart knocking against my chest at the sight of you / I’ve never heard anything more terrifying / how could you provide me air and suffocate me at the same time?”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Bien sûr.” The words fell from his mouth like melted chocolate dripping from fresh fruit. I wanted to wake up to that voice and listen to it while I sewed and draped fabric. I wanted him to whisper to me in French as I put together bouquets of bleeding hearts, like a protagonist in a black and white French film.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Don’t worry if the flowers pass, I’ll be right there to plant you more”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“You look at me with conviction when I don't even know the crime I committed.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I was telling her about you.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“he taught me how to look for the positives again. How to cope and move on without forgetting. Because that’s what everyone wanted you to do after you lost someone: move on. But how? How were you supposed to simply pretend like they never existed and try to be happy when they were no longer here?”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Tell him you love him, Daniella, tell him before it’s too late. Tell him that you love him and that you want him to come with you. Tell him how you want to kiss him every day and you want him to twirl the ends of your hair like he did in high school. That you want him to come to Paris with you, and experience love the way the hopeless romantic tourists did.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Screw men.

I’d wear whatever I want.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“I had seen Vi—Levi—leave for dates and go to prom with other girls and I was always completely fine! There were always twinges of jealousy, but I brushed it off as protectiveness for my best friend. But I had never seen him kiss anyone before. That…that felt wrong—intrusive actually.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“The only con I could come up with was that he didn’t try to kiss me after the homecoming football game in September.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“This one,” he said, stopping me in front of a grand painting that covered the wall. It was a painting of a pale, well-dressed woman. She wore a voluminous dress that overtook her plush chair; seated at a desk in front of a window, she clutched flowers and a note. It breathed of sunlight; each color used in the painting had a yellow or orange hue. Reading the plaque on the wall, it said: “Love Letters” by Jean Honoré Fragonard.”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Just because you watch K-dramas doesn’t mean you know anything about men!”
― Liana Cincotti, Picking Daisies on Sundays