Sweet Quotes - Page 27

• I. At Tea THE kettle descants in a cosy drone, And the young wife looks in her husband's face, And then in her guest's, and shows in her own Her sense that she fills an envied place; And the visiting lady is all abloom, And says there was never so sweet a room. And the happy young housewife does not know That the woman beside her was his first choice, Till the fates ordained it could not be so.... Betraying nothing in look or voice The guest sits smiling and sips her tea, And he throws her a stray glance yearningly.

  Thomas Hardy

  Husband, Fate, Voice

  Thomas Hardy (1998). “Hardy: Selected Poems”, p.96, Penguin

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• And so, from the first, we separated our pleasure. She lay on the rug and I lay at right angles to her so that only our lips might meet. Kissing in this way is the strangest of distractions. The greedy body that clamors for satisfaction is forced to content itself with a single sensation and, just as the blind hear more acutely and the deaf can feel the grass grow, so the mouth becomes the focus of love and all things pass through it and are re-defined. It is a sweet and precise torture.

  Jeanette Winterson

  Kissing, Focus, Mouths

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• Like all sweet dreams, it will be brief, but brevity makes sweetness, doesn't it?

  Stephen King

  Dream, Brevity, Sweet Dreams

  Stephen King (2011). “11/22/63: A Novel”, p.841, Simon and Schuster

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• It was such a sweet, sad song with such sweet, sad lyrics. Old-fashioned a little, but also timeless.

  Gabrielle Zevin

  Song, Littles, Timeless

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• He's looking at me as if the whole world waits for my next breath, with an intensity that makes my heart pound and my palms sweat and then he smiles, a sweet curve of his mouth, and my breath catches, but then I freeze because there is something about it, something beyond it that I know, that makes my mind go blank with fear and pain.

  Elizabeth Scott

  Pain, Heart, Curves

  Elizabeth Scott (2011). “As I Wake”, p.42, Penguin

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• Sweet moonlight, shining full and clear, Why do you light my torture here? How often have you seen me toil, Burning last drops of midnight oil. On books and papers as I read, My friend, your mournful light you shed. If only I could flee this den And walk the mountain-tops again, Through moonlit meadows make my way, In mountain caves with spirits play - Released from learning's musty cell, Your healing dew would make me well!

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Book, Healing, Light

  "The Essential Goethe".

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• Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness

  Matsuo Basho

  Loneliness, Twilight, Dark

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• Cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next.

  John Green

  Flirty, One Day, Next

  John Green (2015). “Looking For Alaska Special 10th Anniversary Edition”, p.63, Penguin

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• You have cable?” He nodded toward her TV. She tossed him the clicker. “Sure do. And if I remember, there’s a Godzilla marathon on TBS tonight.” “Sweet,” the vampire said, kicking his legs out. “I always root for the monster.” She smiled at him. “Me, too.

  J.R. Ward

  Roots, Vampire, Monsters

  J.R. Ward (2005). “Dark Lover: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood”, p.190, Penguin

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• When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.

  Julia Quinn

  Writing, Men, Romance

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• Want a sugar cube? [...] They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I . . . well, if we see something sweet we better grab it quick. [...] You're absolutely terrifying me in that get-up. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?

  Suzanne Collins

  Girl, Horse, Years

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• Lincoln?” she (Beth) asked. “Yes?” “Do you believe in love at first sight?” He made himself look at her face, at her wide-open eyes and earnest forehead. At her unbearably sweet mouth. “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you believe in love before that?” Her breath caught in her throat like a sore hiccup. And then it was too much to keep trying not to kiss her.

  Rainbow Rowell

  Believe, Eye, Kissing

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• It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo

  William Shakespeare

  Night, Names, Soul

  'Romeo And Juliet' (1595) act 2, sc. 2, l. 158

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• I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my mouth. I swallow. It slides down my throat, it caresses me — and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me.

  Jean-Paul Sartre

  Lying, Thinking, Light

  "Being and Nothingness".

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• Will sat where he was, gazing at the silver bowl in front of him; a white rose was floating in it, and he seemed prepared to stare at it until it went under. In the Kitchen Bridget was still singing one of her awful sad songs; the lyrics drifted in through the door: "Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, 'Saw ye my father? Or ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William?" I may murder her, Tessa thought. Let her make a song about that.

  Cassandra Clare

  Mother, Song, Brother

  Cassandra Clare (2013). “Clockwork Prince”, p.494, Simon and Schuster

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• I miss him, my lady.” “Well, he is now living adjacent. You can hardly miss him all that much.” “True. But we are no longer compatible—I am a werewolf; he is a vampire.” “So?” “So we cannot dance the same dance we used to.” Biffy was so sweet when he tried to be circumspect. Alexia shook her head at him. “Biffy, and I mean this in the kindest way possible: then you should change the music.” “Very good, my lady.

  Gail Carriger

  Mean, Missing, Vampire

  Gail Carriger (2011). “Heartless: Book 4 of The Parasol Protectorate”, p.53, Hachette UK

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• He carried a pipe in his left hand, and as he examined Will at his leisure, he exhaled sending a cloud of sweet-smelling, cough-induced smoke. 'Finally broke down and admitted you're in love with me, have you?'He inquired of Will. 'I do enjoy these suprise midnight declarations.' He leaned against the doorway and waved a languid ringed hand. "Go along, have at it.

  Cassandra Clare

  Clouds, Hands, Midnight

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• Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

  Josh Lanyon

  Jake, Hot, Mouths

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• We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him... Horrifyingly, unbearably sweet -- sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean.

  Josh Lanyon

  Years, Two, Cracks

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• He began it,” Cecily said, jerking her chin at Will, though she knew it was pointless. Jem, Will’s parabatai, treated her with the distant sweet kindness reserved for the little sisters of one’s friends, but he would always side with Will. Kindly, but firmly, he put Will above everything else in the world. Well, nearly everything.

  Cassandra Clare

  Kindness, Little Sister, World

  Cassandra Clare (2014). “Clockwork Princess”, p.19, Simon and Schuster

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• Enough! we're tired, my heart and I. We sit beside the headstone thus, And wish that name were carved for us. The moss reprints more tenderly The hard types of the mason's knife, As Heaven's sweet life renews earth's life With which we're tired, my heart and I .... In this abundant earth no doubt Is little room for things worn out: Disdain them, break them, throw them by! And if before the days grew rough We once were loved, used, - well enough, I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Tired, Heart, Thinking

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Illustrated)”, p.1259, Delphi Classics

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• love is a deeper season than reason; my sweet one

  e. e. cummings

  Love Is, Reason, Deeper

  E. E. Cummings (1994). “Selected Poems”, p.67, W. W. Norton & Company

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• A naive man is nothing better than a fool. But you women contrive to be naive in such a way that in you it seems sweet, and gentle, and proper, and not as silly as it really is.

  Anton Chekhov

  Silly, Men, Way

  Anton Chekhov (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated)”, p.270, Delphi Classics

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• Once she'd loved my filet mignon, my carnivore inklings, but now she was a vegan princess, living off of beans. She'd given up the cheese and bacon, sworn off Burger King, and when I wouldn't do the same she gave me back my ring. I stood there by the romaine lettuce, feeling my heart pine. Wishing that this meatless beauty still would be all mine. She turned around to go to checkout, fifteen items or less. And I knew this was the last go-round, so this is what I said. ... "Don't you ever give me no rotten tomato, 'cause all I ever wanted was your sweet potato.

  Sarah Dessen

  Kings, Princess, Heart

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• A man who doles out sweets, and slaps, with the same hand.

  Patricia McCormick

  Men, Hands, Slap

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