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“Erudition is the crude residue of wilted harvests”
wit: the meddlesome weed that wilts them.“Sometimes it is easier to feel the veins wilted and empty than to sense the coldness of blood in fear”
Munia Khan“There is nothing in the world more pathetic than a bunch of wilted dandelions.”
Shannon Wiersbitzky, What Flowers Remember“He thought, that all men, trickled away, changing constantly, until they finally dissolved, while the artist-created images remained unchangeably the same. He thought that the fear of death was perhaps the root of all art, perhaps also of all things of the mind. We fear death, we shudder at life’s instability, we grieve to see the flowers wilt again and again, and the leaves fall, and in our hearts we know that we, too, are transitory and will search for laws and formulate thoughts, it is in order to salvage something from the great dance of death, to make something that lasts longer than we do. Perhaps the woman after whom the master shaped his beautiful Madonna is already wilted or dead, and soon he, too, will be dead; others will live in his house and eat at his table- but his work will still be standing hundreds of years from now, and longer. It will go on shimmering in the quiet cloister church, unchangingly beautiful, forever smiling with the same sad, flowering mouth.”
Hermann Hesse“Compassion nourishes the wilted heart.”
Jana Fayne Kolpen, The Secrets of Pistoulet“Wilted or in bloom,taking or lending daylight,the world transitions.”
Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes“Use the water of encouragement on someone else's flowers - especially the flowers that are wilted, trampled on, and taken for granted. But don't nourish the weeds.”
Hannah Garrison“Their friendship was like a wilted bunch of flowers that she insisted on topping up with water. Why not let it die instead? It was unrealistic to expect a friendship to last forever…”
David Nicholls, One Day“Confidence is not a wilted plant that can be brought back to life with a bit of water. It is a highly flammable object. Doubt sets it aflame and destroys it irreparably.”
Michèle Halberstadt, The Pianist in the Dark