Catherine [of Siena] sent the Pope five oranges which she had candied and covered with gold leaf... She develops the theme of the difference between the bitter and the sweet pain, and gives the Pope a recipe for making candied oranges.
I hear sweets help these kind of things, too…” -Jared “What kind of things is that?” -April “I don’t know.” He shrugs before adding, “Woman troubles, heartbreak, Twilight ending? Whatever bugs your mind.”-Jared
Grover: It’s a very sweet love story. I get misty-eyed every time I play it. So does Percy, but I think that’s because he’s laughing at me.
Self-help and those stupid proverbs, they do nothing. Soul food? It’s like trying to cure starvation with a sugar cube. It might taste sweet on the lips but once it dissolves, the emptiness is still there.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
I think that real friendship always makes us feel such sweet gratitude, because the world almost always seems like a very hard desert, and the flowers that grow there seem to grow against such high odds.
The fig tree grows its flowers strangely inside out, concealed within the soft interior of the fruit. Erszébet imagines the fig's hidden fairy weight of seeds, grown in sweetness that is also a darkness. Like treasure in a cave.
I love the phrase "I have a sweet tooth." I always want to say, "You're ordering it for your tooth? That's interesting, because it's going straight to your butt. I think your butt owed your tooth an explanation.
It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.
On the rebound one passes into tears and pathos. Maudlin tears. I almost prefer the moments of agony. These are at least clean and honest. But the bath of self-pity, the wallow, the loathsome sticky-sweet pleasure of indulging it--that disgusts me
I had learned how it felt to want more than the sweet touch of hand to cheek or lips to palm, more than a kiss, more than an embrace. I was starting to discover that it is not only the mind that understands love, but also the body.
So young and yet already carrying a great burden on her shoulders. Do not worry, my dear, I will make sure you can protect yourself and others. Because you are our hope … sweet, darling … Arima.
Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of." [From the preface.]
Bridget - I like my tea like I like my men. Strong, sweet and dark. Joan - I like my tea like I like my men too. Still warm.
You think she’ll be able to talk sense into him?” she asked. “His sister?” "If he listens to anyone, it would be her.” “That’s sweet,” said Maia. “That he loves his sister like that.” “Yeah,” Simon said. “It’s precious
I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.
Oh that voice, so sweet. Rich, like the taste of vanilla ice cream, vowels like flute music, warm caramel consonants. She could float in that voice forever and not miss a thing.
Asa had a sharp understanding of the future--that is, a time when would be past. Time was rushing through and around him, he almost heard it whistling, and this awareness rounded the world somehow and made it sweet.
He’d lapped at her ankles like a lovesick pup, and she’d been exactly what she was now, a woman born too beautiful and too rich to worry about a small thing like integrity.
The horse gave his arm a nudge when he reached to remove the headstall. With his large hand, he gave the animal an affectionate stroke on the neck that gave Charli a tug way deep down in her lemon yellow panties.
Even the dry and dusty arid desert air could not get her sweet perfume out of his nostrils. That one night was all it took. She stole his heart; he could do nothing about it, but accept his fate.
