Lilies Quotes

“One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies.

“They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.”
― Jess C Scott, The Devilin Fey

“He looked up at the dark line of trees and breathed in slowly, smelling wild garlic, mulched leaves, a fox den somewhere and a sweeter scent. Fruit blossom, he thought. Then that small mystery was eclipsed by a larger one. A stranger scent hid among the blossom, sweet and resinous at once. Lilies, John thought, drawing the scent deeper. Lilies mixed with pitch.”
― Lawrence Norfolk, John Saturnall's Feast

“next to the bed
a couple of lilies
and two cigarettes
smoke like cloud
quiet like loud
sun and fire”
― G. P. Moci, Isabella

“Vanilla lily

Meaning: Ambassador of love
Sowerbaea juncea | Eastern Australia

Perennial with edible roots found in eucalyptus forests, woodlands, heaths, and sub-alpine meadows. Grass-like leaves have a strong scent of vanilla. Flowers are pink-lilac to white, papery, with sweet vanilla perfume. Resprouts after fire.”
― Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

“River Lily

Meaning: Love concealed
Crinum pedunculatum | Eastern Australia

Very large perennial usually found on the edge of forests, but also at the high-tide level close to mangroves. Fragrant, white slender star-shaped flowers. Seeds sometimes germinate while still attached to the parent plant. The sap has been used as a treatment for box jellyfish stings.”
― Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

“...sprites wearing acorn caps and wielding glaives the size of toothpicks battled above a sea of tiger lilies.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Now everything is white, like Venus, like tears upon lilies, like remembering a dream within another.”
― Eirene Evripidou

“They waited at the back door until the storm clouds passed. The sky was violet and the light was silver. Alice followed her mother into the garden that was glossy with rain. They came to a bush her mother had planted recently. When Alice last took notice, it was just a tumble of bright green leaves. Now, after the rain, the bush was thick with fragrant white flowers. She studied them in bewilderment.
'Thought you might like these,' her mother said.
'Is it magic?' Alice reached out to touch one of the petals.
'The best kind.' Her mother nodded. 'Flower magic.'
Alice bent down to get as close as she could. 'What are they, Mama?'
'Storm lilies. Just like the night you were born. They only flower after a good downpour.' Alice leant down and studied them closely. Their petals were flung open, leaving their centers fully exposed.
'They can't exist without rain?' Alice asked, straightening up. Her mother considered her for a moment before nodding.
'When I was in your father's truck the night you were born, they were growing wild by the road. I remember seeing them in bloom in the storm.' She looked away but Alice saw her mother's eyes fill.
'Alice,' her mother began. 'I planted the storm lilies here for a reason.'
Alice nodded.
'Storm lilies are a sign of expectation. Of the goodness that can come from hardship.”
― Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

“Lilies bloom when we laugh together.”
― Suyasha Subedi

“La persona más mediocre puede ser objeto de un amor arrebatado, extravagante y bello como los lirios venenosos de las ciénagas”
― Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe

“Entering the room, Lily was struck by the changes that had been wrought since she had last been there on the night of her abduction. Though his massive four-poster bed remained, the coverings were now a mixture of midnight blue and a mysterious smoky gray. In fact, various shades of gray had been added throughout the room. The two heavy leather chairs had been beautifully reupholstered in a dove-gray damask, a plush rug in a light and misty color was laid before the fireplace, and on a delicate table between them stood a large vase of lilies, infusing the room with their delicate scent.
"Do you see?" the earl asked from behind her.
Once they entered the bedroom, he had released her hand to close the door, ensconcing them together in the private space. Lily turned to watch him walk toward one of the new chairs. He ran his fingers over the fabric.
"The color of your eyes when you are quiet and content," he stated in a low voice, then he crossed to the bed where he smoothed his palm over a velvet coverlet. "This is the darker shade your eyes become when you are aroused- with emotion or desire."
He looked at her, and Lily's world expanded on a sudden breath at what she saw in the depth of his gaze.
They both seemed rooted in place, standing in the center of his bedroom, staring at each other with their breaths coming fast and their focus locked upon each other, as though they were equally afraid the other might disappear.
"You exist in everything. You have become a part of me," he murmured thickly. "I cannot breathe without you.”
― Amy Sandas, The Untouchable Earl

“It's not fair that I know how great we would be together, except that we can't. It's not fair that, even though I know I'll never have you, I had planned everything - the candles, the lilies - replayed the words I wanted to say a million times when you and I finally made love. I get that it's not fair,”
― Jessica Shirvington, Embrace

“The four-tiered cake with brilliant Italian meringue buttercream frosting offset with champagne-dusted icing pearls and freshly cut Stargazer lilies from the florist would be the centerpiece of centerpieces.”
― Kate Young, Southern Sass and a Battered Bride

“It is exactly as I have heard it described: large, white turning to orange trumpet flowers with deep rust-colored stamens, and a sweet scent.'
Elizabeth had found herself able to breathe more easily. She was certain that he had not found the Devil's Trumpet. She knew this plant of which Chegwidden spoke--- her father had described it as the 'fiery trumpet', a glorious tree that featured bushels of pendulous trumpet-shaped flowers, hanging downwards, 'as if musical instruments left behind by a fairy orchestra' he had said.”
― Kayte Nunn, The Botanist's Daughter

“What is it?" I asked.
"Rain," she said.
"It's too early for rain."
"That's what you think. Open the door. You'll see."
I turned off the air conditioner so that we could hear better, slid open the glass door -- and the soft thunder of rain falling onto sand curtained us in. Deaf, we would still have known it was raining: smell would have told us; the smell of dry earth watered, of dehydrated vegetation reconstituted, the smell of resurrection. The first rain in a dry land! It smells better than lilies in July, or the ocean, or the wind in sun-warmed pines, or the irrigated patch of alfalfa you reach after a long haul through dry hills. It is hard to smell that sweetness and believe in death.”
― Jessamyn West, A Matter of Time