Have you ever chopped down something with an ax? Not fun. I now have serious doubts regarding George Washington and his cherry tree.
A woman cannot ever be sure of not being married till she is buried, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and meanwhile I will make a batch of cherry pies.
The real Julian Wells didn't die in a cherry-red convertible, overdosing on a highway in Joshua Tree while a choir soared over the sound track.
If I could tell you about Red I would sing to you of fire Sweet like cherries Burning like cinnamon Smelling like a rose in the sun
They can fly and they howl, they slaughter depression and headaches, they daydream like gangbanging daffodils, orchids and cherry blossoms grasping mauve toffee clouds, they breastfeed laughter.
Language always betrays us, tells the truth when we want to lie, and dissolves into formlessness when we would most like to be precise.
Her fierce and fearful friend --who loved country music and cherry Pop Tarts and singing in public and the color pink, who was terrified of germs and dogs and ladders.
Virgin suicide What was that she cried? No use in stayin' On this holocaust ride She gave me her cherry She's my virgin suicide
Summer in Seattle allows me to indulge in some of the region's top culinary delights - I'm talking about wild king salmon and fresh, ripe Washington stone fruits and berries like cherries, peaches, plums, and blueberries.
I’d like to THANK whoever saw a bunch of cherries and thought.... HEY!! If I dry out a bunch of those berry seeds, call them “BEANS”, smash them and add hot water, it will be AWESOME!
Most people didn't have the bandwidth to download whole albums. And so it brought back this cherry picking idea that the audience would focus on certain songs and possibly be the impetus behind what eventually got on AM radio: the single or whatever.
I'm particularly fond of boned chicken breasts with a little garlic under the flesh and cooked in a casserole for 40 minutes with a jar of olives, some cherry tomatoes and a spoonful of olive oil.
When I was a kid, I loved having a book in my hand. I still do. I wasn't a fast reader, but I was a steady reader. I read all of The Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, and Cherry Ames books.
Today I will find something beautiful. Delicate pink blossoms on a cherry tree. The dove resting near the lemon buds. Sunbeams smiling from sky to earth. Smiling on me. "Creating" in BREATHE IN
I collect old rusty hand tools and sharpen and polish them, then use them to build things out of walnut and cherry that I harvest from fallen trees in the woods.
[as Wray is dying] Cherry: [crying] No... you can't go. Two against the world, remember? Wray: There will be, I promise Wray: [touching her stomach] I never miss.
Wray: That's my jacket. I looked for that jacket for two weeks. Cherry: Oh, really, Wray? How long did you look for me? Wray: The jacket belonged to me. You didn't.
Olive: Do you eat ice cream? Miss California: Yes. My favorite is Chocolate Cherry Garcia... except technically I think it's a frozen yogurt.
Doris Crane: [Falling down drunk] Life is so goddamn wonderful you almost won't believe it. It's a bowl of goddamn cherries...
I claim that all those who think they can cherry-pick science simply don't understand how science works. That's what I claim. And if they did, they'd be less prone to just assert that somehow scientists are clueless.
I meet young people who know me and are familiar with my stuff. They know the package. They might have cherry-picked five or six key tunes. That's how it seems to work. I sometimes wonder if they realise they are not getting the whole context.
