A man should smell of sweat, not flowers. — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
A man should smell of sweat, not flowers. — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
A man should smell of sweat, not flowers. — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
A man should smell of sweat, not flowers. — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
A man should smell of sweat, not flowers. — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
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A man should smell of sweat, not flowers.

— George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
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More “Flowers” Quotes

The joy of success lies in the process or journey -- not so much on the destination, because one destination opens the d — Val Uchendu
I wanted to shout down to him, to warn him that he was giving flowers to a monster, but I did not. — Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane
On a nightstand in a teenager’s room, a glass vase filled with violets leans precariously against a wall. The only thing — Jay Nichols, Emily Smiles for April
In the beginning we start with roses. The king’s flower right? Only they wilt in less than a day, especially when expose — Ruth McLeod-Kearns, Carnations Never Wilt
You can be brave and still be feminine. You can lead and still love flowers. — Kiera Cass, The Heir
Let your life blossom like sacred flower. — Lailah Gifty Akita
You may bend, but that will not bring your life to an end. Your refusal to give up is the key; your rose flowers blossom — Israelmore Ayivor, Daily Drive 365
Living things don't all requirelight in the same degree. Some of usmake our own light: a silver leaflike a path no one c — Louise Glück, Poems 1962-2012
Hobbies are like flowers on plant. They make the plant look beautiful and feel Proud. — Sukant Ratnakar, Open The Windows: To the World around You
The flowers' beauty drew her closer to them like a magnetic force. She felt compelled to walk a little faster. — H. L. Balcomb
I hear he liked flowers pretty well.""Yes," said Annie, "he said they were the friends who always came back and never di — Kurt Vonnegut Jr., While Mortals Sleep: Unpublished Short Fiction
My pockets had always puzzled Weena, but at the last she had concluded that they were an eccentric kind of vase for flor — H.G. Wells