Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

The art road is paved with thorns.

Please look out for the few thorns that might have got mixed up with the roses.

Every noble crown is, and on earth will forever be, a crown of thorns.

Truths and roses have thorns about them.

I Fall upon the thorns of life....

Not foliage green, but of a fusk colour,
Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled
not apple-tress were there, but thorns with poison.

The rose's rarest essence lives in the thorns.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted.

Crushed under his soles whole clusters of the thorns that had pierced my skin.

Life is bristling with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to cultivate one's garden.

The kingliest kings are crowned with thorn.

I will soothe you and heal you,
I will bring you roses.
I too have been covered with thorns.

Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.