Where the Last Rose Blooms Quotes

“Alice always had loved flowers.
There was something about the blend of colors, the hidden roots, the twisting petals as they unfurled in the sun one by one. A symbol of femininity---how that which is delicate can also be strong. Whiskey in a teacup, as her aunt always said. Well, her aunt and Reese Witherspoon, but honestly, Aunt Charlotte had been saying that way back when Reese was still filming Sweet Home Alabama.
Alice swept petals from the floor, beautiful yet fragmented evidence of the fullness the day had brought. She'd been running the Prickly Rose, a customizable bouquet shop on Magazine Street, alongside her aunt for several years now, and Valentine's Day always left plenty of cast-off remnants.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“Outside, a mature climbing rose vine wove in and out of the trellis just past the back door. The effect was so charming, she wanted just a few moments of the fragrance to herself, a peace before the day's hustle and bustle.
She went outside, sat on the bench beneath the trellis, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, careful not to knock over the candle beside her.
The fragrance was beautiful, and so were the crimson and pale pink petals by the light of the moon---petals that littered the grass below with daubs of color.
She sat there for a full minute, feeling young and enchanted and free.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“I thought wanting something more eclectic would make me easy to please, but when I explained my vision, most of the places we've visited have looked at me like I've got four eyes."
"Roses and babies' breath." Alice nodded. "Maybe the occasional daisy or ranunculus. Although I do love ranunculus. They've got such a whimsy about them.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“There was a dress we always kept in the family---a little girl's dress that once belonged to my great-grandmother. Ashley." Millie hesitated, as though to emphasize the name. "Ashley was just a child when she was sold, and her mother sewed the dress and embroidered a rose like that one on it."
"Kind of reminds me of the color of that huge rosebush at Eliza's old estate in Charleston," Sullivan said, and Peter agreed. "I mean, I know it's comparing a real bush to an embroidered one... but isn't it strange. Eliza would have a bush with that color rose in her yards both here and in Charleston, and a collection of needlework displays with it in her attic?"
Alice shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Roses are very popular flowers and were especially popular during that time period. It certainly could mean something, but I'm more interested in the sequence of the flowers this person chose to embroider and the connection Millie mentioned to that dress." Alice leaned closer.
"Millie, are you sure the stitching is the same?" As a renowned seamstress, Millie's eye could be trusted.
Millie nodded emphatically. "I have no doubt about it," she said. "The gentle curve of the petals. Shows remarkable craftsmanship. I remember admiring it when I was a little girl myself. It's one of the first memories I have of falling in love with textiles.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“Your father and I both agree some of the world's realities are simply too harsh for a woman's mind."
Perhaps because a woman's heart was fierce enough to fight them, Clara thought.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“After her unexpected breakfast with Sullivan this morning, Alice clipped stems for a petite arrangement of carnations and crimson-tipped roses, with a few sprays of purple wildflowers thrown in for good measure. She breathed in deeply, and the fragrance brought back the magic of the first Valentine's flowers she received from a crush back in high school. It was one of the many things she loved about flowers---their ability to pull you out of the present and into the past, then back into the present once more, better for having remembered something so lovely.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“If you really stop and think about it, even Jesus prayed a prayer in Gethsemane that wasn't answered the way He wanted it to be. Did He not believe enough in the Father? Did he not pray long enough, or hard enough, or with enough faith? Of course not! The mere thought is ridiculous. And so I wonder if maybe we need to shift our focus away from rosy platitudes that are, quite honestly, easier to say than the alternative---the hard work of keeping our hearts open in the pain. Recognizing that God is with us, whether or not He calms the waves."
Aunt Charlotte patted Alice's hand once more. "And that's not to say fear is what God wants for us, because I don't believe that's true. But it is to say you aren't alone in it, Alice. Not hardly. God has never left you, and I haven't either."
"You're right..." Alice's voice trailed off as she cozied deeper into the sofa. "I've never thought about it like that before, but even Jesus prayed there'd be some other way than the suffering He endured, and He was the Son of God. And even Lazarus died eventually. Death always comes before resurrection. All this time, I've been so focused on praying my mom back to health that I've missed out on the big picture. It's not about whether I pray fervently enough to unlock some blessing through the right combination of words. It's about God walking with us in our brokenness---a brokenness the Bible warns that in this world, we will all endure. Maybe instead of trying to sidestep the pain, I need to fill it instead, and ask God to help me find a way through.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“She remembered a verse from Isaiah. "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee."
Clara had never appreciated the Scripture's application until now, nor had she understood its further articulation----"Fear not," the passage said. "For I am with thee."
In waters, in rivers, and flames.
And what did that mean, exactly? Perhaps empowering the feet of the faithful to keep going toward reconciliation, both divine and earthly.
Alighting with the hope of the reunion.
Emerging from the chrysalis of hardship, having been given the wings of faith.
From age to age, always passing through.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“They were able to get so many strawflowers last week, they'd kept some for arrangements and had dried others to use in wreaths. Strawflowers held their color despite being dried, and the wreaths always turned out beautiful. Time consuming, yes, but beautiful. Great for the transition from winter to spring. Alice once saw an Etsy listing that called similar wreaths everlasting strawflowers, and she liked the phrasing so much she'd thought of them that way ever since.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“Alice marveled at the flowers. Huge, fragrant, God-praising blooms. That rose, transplanted and broken, giving beauty to this ground. The dirt and the seed, the flood and the flame, all writing a story of where we belong. Where roses grow, but more than that. Where roses bloom, and where life---full and glorious at its crescendo---finds its meaning over and over again.
Maybe the important thing was the same root bound them through any circumstance and any ground. And after a few months, or maybe a few years, the rose would bloom again.
The rose always bloomed again.
Because somewhere, deep within that plant, was life---abundantly.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“That rosebush, poetically speaking, was sort of like our hope for the future. It'd been ripped up and transplanted, shaken and moved around. And yet, as Rose said, it bloomed. And will continue blooming still.
From the broken ground, somehow those delicate, vibrant petals came anew, offering a fragrance that might catch on the breeze and carry down the street to where the bluebirds flew.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“A hazy, fiery sunset fell upon the fountain waters, and the steady dripping reflected the clouds. All the flowers, all the pieces, all the fragments, blended into the bigger picture, and the picture became something of beauty.
But what if it was beautiful all along?”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“Brokenness abounds—it is the state of this world.” She patted the stitches once more with her wrinkled hand. “But if we look hard enough, we can find spaces, pierced by a needle. When threaded together, they create something beautiful—a story, our story, and through the threads and the holes, we grow.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“And so I wonder if maybe we need to shift our focus away from rosy platitudes that are, quite honestly, easier to say than the alternative—the hard work of keeping our hearts open in the pain. Recognizing that God is with us, whether or not He calms the waves.”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms

“blessing through the right combination of words. It’s about God walking with us in our brokenness—a brokenness the Bible warns that in this world, we will all endure. Maybe instead of trying to sidestep the pain, I need to feel it instead, and ask God to help me find a way through.” Another”
― Ashley Clark, Where the Last Rose Blooms