The last unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone.
The last unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone.
The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.
The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. A grasshopper began to chirp by the wall, and like a blue thread a long, thin dragonfly floated past on its brown gauze wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.
The warm bittersweet smell of clean Negro welcomed us as we entered the churchyard-Hearts of Love hairdressing mingled with asafoetida, snuff, Hoyt's Cologne, Brown's Mule, peppermint, and lilac talcum.
this fabric existed, but in different colors, darker, masculine -- like black and yellow. So we decided to reprint it in lilac and pink for me.
My lilac trees are old and tall I cannot reach their bloom at all. They send their perfume over trees And roof and streets, to find the bees.
O Were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
When you're on top and you lead the parade, everyone's there throwing lilies and lilac water on your head. But when those parades have gone by and there's a storm in your heart, there are very few people that are going to sit there and listen to you bemoan life.
Passionately hate the lilac borders, ... Very crisp, fresh looking site. Like the use of bw photography. Font just ok.
I'm not showing any black, ... All of the colors are orange, you know, roses. There's a beautiful shade of aqua this year, and a really nice lilac, a deep lilac.
Our Boeing 747 has been fleeing westward from darkened California, racing across the Pacific toward the sun, the incandescent eye of God, but slowly, three hours later than West Coast time, twilight gathers outside, veil upon lilac veil.
People apparently came from places beyond Minnesota to come and see and drive Lilac Way or Lilac Drive.
Yes, I heard my people singing--in the glow of parlor coal-stove and on summer porches sweet with lilac air, from choir loft and Sunday morning pews--and my soul was filled with their harmonies. Then, too, I heard these songs in the very sermons of my father, for in the Negro's speech there is much of the phrasing and rhythms of folk-song. The great, soaring gospels we love are merely sermons that are sung and as we thrill to such gifted gospel singers as Mahalia Jackson, we hear the rhythmic eloquence of our preachers, so many of whom, like my father, are masters of poetic speech.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories