Quotes
Quotes about Blushes
I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes.
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
But Memory blushes at the sneer,
And Honor turns with frown defiant,
And Freedom, leaning on her spear,
Laughs louder than the laughing giant.
Who fears to speak of Ninety-eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame?
An Arab, by his earnest gaze, Has clothed a lovely maid with blushes; A smile within his eyelids plays And into words his longing gushes.
The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread, Are opening roses in the lily's bed.
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite, Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes, That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will, Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindess shall his death draw out To ling'ring sufferance.
I have marked A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, And in her eye there hath appeared a fire To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth.
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.
The water owns a power Divine, And conscious blushes into wine; Its very nature changed displays The power Divine that it obeys.
Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight? Who blushes at the name? When cowards mock the patriot's fate, Who hangs his head for shame?
I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly, Ring, bluebells, ring! Winning eye and heart completely, Sing, robin, sing! All among the reeds and rushes, Where the brook its music hushes, Bright the caloposon blushes,__ Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdue here Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful year. . . . . The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow.
