Poppies Quotes

In Flanders fields the poppies blow.

Actually, if I could deliberately sit down and write a pop hit, all my songs would be pop hits! Let’s put it this way. I play what I like to hear. And sometimes I like to hear something poppy, and sometimes I don’t.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms, can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?

Alas for America as I must so often say, the ungirt, the diffuse, the profuse, procumbent, one wide ground juniper, out of which no cedar, no oak will rear up a mast to the clouds! It all runs to leaves, to suckers, to tendrils, to miscellany. The air is loaded with poppy, with imbecility, with dispersion, & sloth.

Who’s Got Game? The Ant or the Grasshopper? The Lion or the Mouse? Poppy or the Snake?

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.

George Bush is by American standards rabidly Upper Class – Eastern, Socially Attractive, WASP, 19th-century money, several generations of Andover and Yale (and, while we’re at it, his father, George H. W. ‘Poppy’ Bush, was a former president and his grandfather was the Nazis’ U.S. banker in the 1930s).

I was sick of fast, aggressive music; I felt like I needed to make a poppy thing. But, right now, I feel like I need to make a Hawkwind/Sabbath record. It gets boring if you just do the same thing all the time.

One day my 3-year-old daughter said ‘Your very handsome, Poppy.’ That was the best compliment ever.

It might do wonders for your marriage,” Amelia continued. “It’s lovely to talk to your husband after you’ve been to bed together. They just lie there feeling grateful and say yes to everything.” – Amelia to Poppy

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.

When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tup and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank into sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies.

The sermon is now the true poppy of literature.

I’m so bad at lyrics. I’m always trying to get better. Sometimes, the song can restrict your lyrics – if you’re trying to make a poppy song, you don’t want to sing something that sounds like it could be on an At the Drive-In song.

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

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

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.

I always design my own hats to complete my fashion thought….I like them slightly mad, like this huge black poppy. Right now I lift the bosom high on coats and dresses…I am using so many high curved belts.

By the time writing was invented, the Greeks and Egyptians had already learned to extract opium from poppies to facilitate sleep.

Marianne’s mouth was open in surprise, but Poppy looked murderous. She clutched her reticule as though it contained a weapon. Realizing that it probably held some very sharp knitting needles, Christian reflected that it did.

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity.

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

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

I don’t think Harry cares about being forgiven,” Poppy said glumly. “Of course he does. Men love to be forgiven. It makes us feel better about our inability to learn from our mistakes.

Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.

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

Whoever it was, whether I knew them or not, if I could help in some way, I would. I mean, if you can help, you have to help. Don’t you think? – Poppy Wyatt

Stu walked Bennie over to Chris in the chair and parted his hair to reveal some tan little creatures the size of poppy seeds moving around on his scalp. Bennie felt himself grow faint.’Lice’ the barber whispered.’They get it at school’. ‘But he goes to private school’ Bernie had blurted.’In Crandale,New York!

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

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.

Hi.” “Hi.” I shrug, as though to say “Whatever.” In my peripheral vision I can see Magnus exhale. He looks a teeny bit nervous. “So.” “So.” I can play this game too. “Poppy.” “Poppy. I mean, Magnus.” I scowl. He caught me out.

Religion is the opiate of the people.

They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds. I put this book here for you, who once lived So that you should visit us no more.

When Tarquin the Proud was asked what was the best mode of governing a conquered city, he replied only by beating down with his staff all the tallest poppies in his garden.

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.

I was told by journalists who can’t publish it that there are in Mexico, close to the U.S. border, big areas that used to be devoted to agriculture that are now devoted to poppies. They say you can’t get in there because they’re guarded, first by the cartels, but also by the army, which goes hand in hand with the cartels.

I listened a little to punk when I was younger, but it was straight edge punk. It was nothing like what is going on now, like poppy punk.

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.

Poppy was now almost well. She still slept more than usual, but when she wasn’t sleeping she tromped around the doctor’s house pulling spoons off the table and spilling cups of water and crumpling pages of books. That is, she was almost her old self.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.

It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings.

The poppies hung Dew-dabbled on their stalks.