For myself I hold no preferences among flowers, so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous. Bricks to all greenhouses! Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.

The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her, I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes - every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.

The earth laughs in flowers.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.

Earth is a flower and it's pollinating.

The Amen of nature is always a flower.

The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.

Let a hundred flowers bloom, let a hundred schools of thought contend.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

Pick a flower on Earth and you move the farthest star.

Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star.

The advice I am giving always to all my students is above all to study the music profoundly... music is like the ocean, and the instruments are little or bigger islands, very beautiful for the flowers and trees.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.