Best Poppy Quotes 2021

  • Never be afraid to be a poppy in a field of daffodils.

    Michaela DePrince
  • Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

    John Keats
  • I survived, carried on, glad to be like a weed, a wild red poppy, rooted in life.

    Marilyn Buck
  • And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy’s bonfire spread.

    Bayard Taylor
  • We cherish too, the Poppy red
    That grows on fields where valor led,
    It seems to signal to the skies
    That blood of heroes never dies.

    Moina Michael
  • Of all the wonderful things in the wonderful universe of God, nothing seems to me more surprising than the planting of a seed in the blank earth and the result thereof. Take that Poppy seed, for instance: it lies in your palm, the merest atom of matter, hardly visible, a speck, a pin’s point in bulk, but within it is imprisoned a spirit of beauty ineffable, which will break its bonds and emerge from the dark ground and blossom in a splendor so dazzling as to baffle all powers of description.

    Celia Thaxter
  • Pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed.

    Robert Burns
  • But pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flower

    John Bunyan
  • That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe.

    John Berger
  • She was like a crinkled poppy; with the desire to drink dry dust.

    Virginia Woolf
  • Robert Burns quote: But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, it's bloom is...But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, it’s bloom is shed; Or, like the snow-fall in the river, A moment white, then melts forever.

    Robert Burns
  • Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there. I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one.

    Edna St. Vincent Millay
  • It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings.

    Oscar Wilde
  • The man is a success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who leaves the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had.

    Robert Louis Stevenson
  • Once in the dream of a night I stood
    Lone in the light of a magical wood,
    Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
    And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
    And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
    And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
    In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

    Sarojini Naidu
  • In Flanders fields the poppies blow.

    John McCrae
  • When you go for a walk, take seeds with you, poppies, rainbow chard, rocket. Plant them among the weeds in patches of wasteland. See what happens.

    Tom Hodgkinson
  • I love color. It must submit to me. And I love art. I kneel before it, and it must become mine. Everything around me glows with passion. Every day reveals a new red flower, glowing, scarlet red. Everyone around me carries them. Some wear them quietly hidden in their hearts. And they are like poppies just opening, of which one can see only here and there a hint of red petal peeking out from the green bud.

    Paula Modersohn-Becker
  • In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below.

    John McCrae
  • The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion. We reject the burden of their memory, and have anodynes against them. But the little things, the things of no moment, remain with us. In some tiny ivory cell the brain stores the most delicate, and the most fleeting impressions.

    Oscar Wilde
  • Or, bide thou where the poppy blows
    With windflowers fail and fair.

    William C. Bryant
  • Poppies bleed petals of sheer excess. You and I, this sweet battle ground.

    Janet Fitch
  • Carrying a poppy he passes through the quarrel.

    Kobayashi Issa
  • These too are of a burning color–not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.

    John Steinbeck
  • As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them.

    Henry Ward Beecher
  • We are slumberous poppies,
    Lords of Lethe downs,
    Some awake and some asleep,
    Sleeping in our crowns.
    What perchance our dreams may know,
    Let our serious may know.

    Leigh Hunt
  • Truth, like the juice of the poppy, in small quantities, calms men; in larger, heats and irritates them, and is attended by fatal consequences in excess.

    Walter Savage Landor
  • The poppies hung Dew-dabbled on their stalks.

    John Keats
  • All panegyrics are mingled with an infusion of poppy.

    Jonathan Swift
  • And would it not be proud romance Falling in some obscure advance, To rise, a poppy field of France?

    William Alexander Percy
  • Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.

    Thomas Hood
  • I always found the extraordinary loss of life in the First World War very moving. I remember learning about it as a very young child, as an eight- or nine-year-old, asking my teachers what poppies were for. Every year the teachers would suddenly wear these red paper flowers in their lapels, and I would say ‘What does that mean?’

    Tom Hiddleston
  • Every step you take, a million doors open in front of you like poppies; your next step closes them, and another million bloom. You get on a train, you pick up a lamp, you speak, you don’t. What decides why one thing gets picked to be the way it will be? Accident? Fate? Some weakness in ourselves? Forget your harps, your tin-foil angels—the only heaven worth having would be the heaven of answers.

    Mark Slouka
  • There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir’d eyelids upon tir’d eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro’ the moss the ivies creep, And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

    Alfred Lord Tennyson
  • Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain? – Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt

    Leigh Hunt
  • In Europe and Australia, there is something called the Tall Poppy Syndrome: People like to cut the tall poppies. They don’t want you to succeed, and they cut you down – especially people from your own social class.

    Mark Burnett
  • Religion is the opiate of the people.

    Karl Marx
  • I believe there is something of the divine mystery in everything that exists. We can see it sparkle in a sunflower or a poppy. We sense more of the unfathomable mystery in a butterfly that flutters from a twig–or in a goldfish swimming in a bowl. But we are closest to God in our own soul. Only there can we become one with the greatest mystery of life. In truth, at very rare moments we can experience that we ourselves are that divine mystery.

    Jostein Gaarder
  • The Red Poppy The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me. I have a lord in heaven called the sun, and open for him, showing him the fire of my own heart, fire like his presence. What could such glory be if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters, were you like me once, long ago, before you were human? Did you permit yourselves to open once, who would never open again? Because in truth I am speaking now the way you do. I speak because I am shattered.

    Louise Glück
  • The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below

    John McCrae
  • There’s no new direction. It’s not more poppy or more rocky. They’re just rock’n’roll tunes. I’ll never change the music I write.

    Noel Gallagher
  • Found a shaman in a diaper with a poppy pot. When I asked if he was cold, he said just think hot.

    Jimmy Buffett
  • A sea captain when he stands upon the bridge, or looks out from his deck-house, thinks much about God and about the world. Away in the valley yonder among the corn and the poppies men may well forget all things except the warmth of the sun upon the face, and the kind shadow under the hedge; but he who journeys through storm and darkness must needs think and think.

    William Butler Yeats
  • When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain
    Like holy water falls upon the plain,
    ‘Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain
    And see your harvest born.
    And sweet the little breeze of melody
    The blackbord puffs upon the budding tree,
    While the wild poppy lights upon the lea
    And blazes ‘mid the corn.

    Francis Ledwidge
  • Now know I well what people sought formerly above all else when they sought Teachers of virtue. Good sleep they sought for themselves, and poppy-head virtues to promote it! To all those be-lauded sages of the academic chairs, wisdom was sleep Without dreams: they knew no higher significance of life. Even at present, to be sure, there are some like this preacher of virtue, and not always so honorable: but their time is past. And not much longer do they stand: there they already lie. Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall soon nod to sleep.-Thus spoke Zarathustra.

    Friedrich Nietzsche
  • It’s going to be really interesting to see what the heroin market does in the next two years or so. One thing you can be pretty sure of. The Afghan peasants who grow poppies won’t get rich. The money will end up in places like Dubai.

    Bruce Sterling
  • Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. Will you confess this in the Letter you must write immediately, and do all you can to console me in it — make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me —write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair.

    John Keats
  • The earth is rocky and full of roots; it’s clay, and it seems doomed and polluted, but you dig little holes for the ugly shriveled bulbs, throw in a handful of poppy seeds, and cover it all over, and you know you’ll never see it again – it’s death and clay and shrivel, and your hands are nicked from the rocks, your nails black with soil.

    Anne Lamott
  • Reason I know, is only a drug, and, as such, its effects are never permanent. But, like the juice of the poppy, it often gives a temporary relief.

    Hope Mirrlees
  • I’m not a big disco guy. Some of that English techno-poppy stuff wouldn’t get me in the mood either.

    Jon Bon Jovi

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