Quotes About Fruit

Thorn's reply to this involved a physically impossible sexual activity in conjunction with the edible but prickly fruit of a bromeliad.

A langorous island, where Nature abounds With exotic trees and luscious fruit; And with men whose bodies are slim and astute, And with women whose frankness delights and astounds.

Visitors are always amazed that you can walk in the forest here and constantly pick fruit from trees," Clement said. "That's because people planted them. They're walking through old orchards

Cashews and poison ivy, pistachio nuts and poison sumac. Mangoes. They all had resinous and sometimes poisonous juice, nuts or fleshy fruit, and small flowers.

The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit.

I wouldn't say I eat fruit all the time. If I'm in the mood for fruit, I'll eat it. I try to get some kind of fruit throughout the day or every couple of days. I usually go for bananas to keep the cramps away.

I ate huge bowls of fresh papaya all day in Fiji when I was filming a movie, which was one of the most magical experiences in my entire life, so the fruit actually really changes my mood and how my body feels.

I always say: a run in the morning is like eating a fruit a day - it chases he doctor away. It is good for your mind.

I've been getting into drinking smoothies in the morning - I like those a lot.

Under an orchard tree, dropping with cherries, cowgirls lay in the shade. They fed each other fruit. Dark juice dribbled into dimples. Cherry meat stained smiles and nostrils.

cream of banana soup

When Jesus calls us to bear fruit in this life, He is prompting us to demonstrate our faith by relying on Him and taking courses of action that defy the wisdom of the world.

Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live

This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear, and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live. We are wrong, of course, but it doesn't matter. It's too late. At least on the edge of my town, among the garbage and the sunflowers of my town, it's much, much, much too late.

This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear, and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live.

Sitting on the train to Atlanta, Frank suddenly realized that those memories, powerful as they were, did not crush him anymore or throw him into paralyzing despair. He could recall every detail, every sorrow, without needing alcohol to steady him. Was this the fruit of sobriety?

I even think now that the land of the entire country was hostile to marigolds that year. This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear, and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live. We are wrong, of course, but it doesn't matter. It's too late. At least on the edge of my town, among the garbage and the sunflowers of my town, it's much, much, much too late.

I even think now that the land of the entire country was hostile to marigolds that year. This soil is bad for certain kinds of flowers. Certain seeds it will not nurture, certain fruit it will not bear, and when the land kills of its own volition, we acquiesce and say the victim had no right to live.

We took the peaches to bed. It is always nice to have someone else to lick the peach juice off your breast.

You know, when you're a fat guy you don't need a reason to sweat. Guys come up to me and go "Jeez... what have you been doing - jumping rope in the attic or something?"..."Umm, no... I peeled an orange about an hour ago, why?

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.

Lorelei sat at the window of her drawing room, painting in the fading daylight. It was yet another portrait of Jack, her favorite piece of fruit.

He ground his teeth together, the torture of it almost more than he could bear. The urge to pull her to him was overwhelming, but to do that would cost him dearly, for no doubt she would run out the door, damning him with every step. This was Lorelei, the artist, and she didn't see him as a man. Right now, he was about as human as the ridiculous fruit she'd painted in the past. And if he played along with her wants, perhaps she'd let him show her his...banana.

No fruit dies so vile and offensive a death as the banana...