Thorns Quotes

We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.

What are the thorns really telling her? It's why she won't let us see them, why she clings to them--or they cling to her--as though she got herself buried in a bramble thicket and she can't get out and we can't get in to free her.

Patricia A. McKillip

You may bend, but that will not bring your life to an end. Your refusal to give up is the key; your rose flowers blossom from the thorns of life!

Israelmore Ayivor

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.

Live in Thorns but always enchant the hearts with your fragrance

When someone comes around at that dreary moment, when all hope was lost, and thorns emerged. And that fellow, walks on that thorn just to cross to your side, to bear the pains for your sake, to bleed, to self-destroy himself, just to protect you. He places you above his priorities, and doesn't give a damn whatsoever taunt he receives, his foremost desire is to make sure you are save, feel loved and cared for, and that's the true definition of love.

Michael Bassey Johnson

Some of the most beautiful things worth having in your life come wrapped in a crown of thorns.

Shannon L. Alder

We all have thorns in our flesh. All of us. Love is when we stay and help someone pluck out their thorns one-by-one and they do the same for us. Love is also when we pluck the thorns out of our own flesh, one-by-one. But today, the world teaches us that we shouldn’t even see those thorns, that we should only see the petals. As a result, we don’t know how to love ourselves and we don’t know how to love others. Stay with the darkness, and bring that darkness into the light. It’s there, look at it.

I’m alive,” he groaned. “But I’m not doing a very good job of it.

Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.

The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow.

Saint Melor’s father was Saint Meliau.”“Was everyone in Bertaèyn a saint, back in the day?”“Everyone who didn’t murder anyone, maybe,” Perrotte said.

You’re not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge.” He paused and shook his head at himself. “And Perrotte’s away for a few minutes, and you’re talking to yourself again.

Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.

The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow.

Saint Melor’s father was Saint Meliau.”“Was everyone in Bertaèyn a saint, back in the day?”“Everyone who didn’t murder anyone, maybe,” Perrotte said.

How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?” Sand shrugged. “A saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me.” “If you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job,” Perrotte whispered. Sand scuffed his shoe at her. “I’m just telling the truth!” “You’re very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible.”“Thank you?

You’re not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge.” He paused and shook his head at himself. “And Perrotte’s away for a few minutes, and you’re talking to yourself again.