Sweet Quotes - Page 28

• Anarchism? You bet your sweet betsy. The only cure for the ills of democracy is more democracy. Much more.

  Edward Abbey

  Democracy, Cures, Anarchism

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• My dad (Scott Swift) believed in me, even when I didn't.He always knew I could do this. I’m sure that everyone in Reading remembers how much he talked about me. I thought that was sweet, but really I just wasn’t as sure it would happen. So, I just love my dad for believing in his little girl.

  Taylor Swift

  Girl, Dad, Believe

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• Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

  Cesare Pavese

  Morning, Stars, Eye

  Cesare Pavese, “In The Morning You Always Come Back”

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• You're beautiful this morning," Archer said, stopping before her, kissing her nose. "You're impossibly sweet in my shirt." That might be but she felt like death. She would gladly make the trade; how blissful it would be to feel impossibly sweet and look like death.

  Kristin Cashore

  Beautiful, Morning, Archer

  Kristin Cashore (2009). “Fire”, p.60, Penguin

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• That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.

  Neil Gaiman

  Men, Flesh, Realizing

  Neil Gaiman (2011). “American Gods”, p.81, Hachette UK

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• The sweet accident of coincidence is the best foundation on which to build.

  Gregory Maguire

  Foundation, Coincidence, Accidents

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• All women love semi-rape. They love to be taken.It was his sweet brutality against my bruised body that made his act of love so piercingly wonderful.

  Ian Fleming

  Taken, Brutality, Body

  Ian Fleming (2012). “The Spy Who Loved Me: James Bond 007”, p.189, Random House

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• You can't expect a man in a dung heap to smell sweet.

  Aravind Adiga

  Men, Smell

  Aravind Adiga (2008). “The White Tiger”, p.24, Atlantic Books Ltd

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• I supposed this was one reason why people got married, to make a fiction that was tellable. It wasn’t just movies that couldn’t contain the full cast of characters — it was us. We had to winnow life down so we knew where to put our tenderness and attention; and that was a good, sweet thing. But together or alone, we were still embedded in a kaleidoscope, ruthlessly varied and continuous, until the end of the end.

  Miranda July

  Character, People, Together

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• He Looked and smelt like Autumn's very brother, his face being sunburnt to wheat-colour, his eyes blue as corn-flowers, his sleeves and leggings dyed with fruit-stains, his hands clammy with the sweet juice of apples, his hat sprinkled with pips, and everywhere about him the sweet atmosphere of cider which at its first return each season has such an indescribable fascination for those who have been born and bred among the orchards.

  Thomas Hardy

  Brother, Flower, Eye

  Thomas Hardy (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)”, p.7755, Delphi Classics

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• The things I would do to that boy. I mean, not now that I know you're interested in him. But, oh, sweet holy Lord, I would ride that one-legged pony all the way around the corral." "Kaitlyn," I said. "Sorry. Do you think you'd have to be on top?" "Kaitlyn," I said.

  John Green

  Sorry, Mean, Boys

  John Green (2012). “The Fault in Our Stars”, p.94, Penguin

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• She was a sweet girl but not really pretty, a rough sketch of a woman with a little of everything in her, one of those silhouettes which artists draw in three strokes on the tablecloth in a café after dinner, between a glass of brandy and a cigarette. Nature sometimes turns out creatures like that.

  Guy de Maupassant

  Girl, Artist, Glasses

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• Some of this story is completely true. And some of it isn't. Like truth, evil comes in all sorts of flavors. Some bitter. Some deceptively sweet. Sometimes it comes with a heavy price. While most people don't invite evil into their lives, the dirty little secret is that an invitation isn't necessary. Locked doors don't matter. Neither do fancy security systems. Evil is kind of amazing when you think about it. She knows how to get inside.

  Gregg Olsen

  Dirty, Thinking, Security Systems

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• She smiled then, an adorable, sweet smile that took his breath away. He forgot all about trying to maintain an air of civility. His inner caveman came barreling out, grunting and pounding his chest and muttering unintelligible words.

  Maya Banks

  Air, Adorable, Trying

  Maya Banks (2015). “Undeniable: Tempted by Her Innocent Kiss\Undone by Her Tender Touch”, p.78, Harlequin

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• Sweet dreams though the guns are booming.

  Erich Maria Remarque

  Dream, Gun, Sweet Dreams

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• A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.

  J. K. Rowling

  Muggles, Kind, Lemons

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• All love is sweet, given or received.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Love Is, Given

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• But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Remembers You, Years, Remember You

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2013). “Early Poems”, p.26, Courier Corporation

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• My brother is undoubtedly arrogant," Tyrion Lannister replied. "My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you?

  George R. R. Martin

  Brother, Father, Soul

  George R. R. Martin (2012). “George R. R. Martin's A Game of Thrones 5-Book Boxed Set (Song of Ice and Fire Series): A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and and A Dance with Dragons”, p.314, Bantam

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• Every man has a weakness," he patiently explained. "I'll find theirs, I promise you." "Every man?" "Yes," he answered emphatically. His hand moved to the back of her neck. Twisting her curls around his fist, he jerked her head back. His face loomed over hers, his breath warm and sweet as he stared down into her eyes. "What is your weakness, Brodick?" she asked. "You.

  Julie Garwood

  Eye, Men, Hands

  Julie Garwood (2010). “Ransom”, p.233, Simon and Schuster

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• Tom Dancer’s gift of a whitebark pine cone You never know What opportunity Is going to travel to you, Or through you. Once a friend gave me A small pine cone- One of a few He found in the scat Of a grizzly In Utah maybe, Or Wyoming. I took it home And did what I supposed He was sure I would do- I ate it, Thinking How it had traveled Through that rough And holy body. It was crisp and sweet. It was almost a prayer Without words. My gratitude, Tom Dancer, For this gift of the world I adore so much And want to belong to. And thank you too, great bear

  Mary Oliver

  Gratitude, Prayer, Home

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• Your bitter memories still have time to turn into sweet ones.

  Alexandre Dumas

  Memories, Bitter, Three Musketeers

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• A gut-string classical Spanish guitar, a sweet, lovely little lady. The smell of it. Even now, to open a guitar case, when it's an old wooden guitar, I could crawl in and close the lid.

  Keith Richards

  Guitar, Smell, Lovely

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• She gathers my half of the blankets around her and curls up against the wall. She will sleep for hours more, dreaming endless landscapes and novas of colour both gorgeous and frightening. If I stayed she would wake up and describe them to me. All the mad plot twists and surrealist imagery, so vivid to her while so meaningless to me. There was a time when I treasured listening to her, when I found the commotion in her soul bitter-sweet and lovely, but I can no longer bear it.

  Isaac Marion

  Love, Dream, Wall

  Isaac Marion (2016). “Warm Bodies and The New Hunger: A Special 5th Anniversary Edition”, p.163, Simon and Schuster

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• Man doeth this and doeth that from the good or evil of his heart; but he knows not to what end his sense doth prompt him; for when he strikes he is blind to where the blow shall fall, nor can he count the airy threads that weave the web of circumstance. Good and evil, love and hate, night and day, sweet and bitter, man and woman, heaven above and the earth beneath--all those things are needful, one to the other, and who knows the end of each?

  H. Rider Haggard

  Hate, Fall, Heart

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