Quotes About Sweet

Into such miseries, your son came. Bright as a sunrise, sweet as ripe fruit.

island was full of them. What I really wanted was a wild strawberry, to slip sweetly down my irritable throat, and so I told that brown hull. It changed so fast my thumb sank into its soft, red body.

At last there came the reward for patience, her tremendous inhalation broken into six separate fragments, her whole body listening to itself then, finding, being certain, and then taking with hunger. Later she lay curled languid against my chest, her heart and breathing slow. "Wasn't too soon," she said, a blurred drone. "No, it wasn't." "Sweet," she said. "Ver' sweet." And she nestled down into the sleep of total exhaustion.

While his bread remains sweet, his novels may be as bitter as he likes.

A voice came sweeter, sweeter than all tune, And still it cried, 'Apollo! young Apollo! The morning-bright Apollo! young Apollo!

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

Acting is experience with something sweet behind it.

gospel singing ... is the rawest, sweetest, uninhibited and exquisite sounds a person can make or hear. It isn't music, it's an entire experience you feel and live. A sound to rise you up again.

You know me baby, I'm a lover not a fighter. If I were to fight for your love. If I was to fight for your love. I'd come out a winner. Your love is so sweet. Sweeter than candy. For your love, I'd come running!

My Love, all I ever need is you and all I want is to hold you forever. To laugh with you, to share each moment with you but for now I will wait for that sweet moment. When it comes, I will hold your hands forever.

To achieve success in life; Be sweet as honey, Be regular as clock, Be fresh as rose, Be soft as tissue and Be strong as rock.

Life is worth living, live it with passion, grab all opportunities. Do away with anger as anger is poison, it will eat away your very essential. Do away with fear, fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet. Cherish them.

The dying light was in his hair, and his face was sweet with evening.

Achilles nodded and bent over the lyre. I did not have time to wonder about his intervention. His fingers touched the strings, and all my thoughts were displaced. The sound was pure and sweet as water, bright as lemons. It was like no music I had ever heard before. It had warmth as a fire does, a texture and weight like polished ivory. It buoyed and soothed at once. A few hairs slipped forward to hang over his eyes as he played. They were fine as lure strings themselves, and shone.

The sound was pure and sweet as water, bright as lemons. It was like no music I had ever heard before. It had warmth as a fire does, a texture and weight like polished ivory. It

But I trust I will live in my skin again, if life is sweet and long.

O fairest of all creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote?

What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!

There is more beauty in truth, even if it is a dreadful beauty. The storytellers at the city gate twist life so that it looks sweet to the lazy and the stupid and the weak, and this only strengthens their infirmities and teaches nothing, cures nothing, nor does it let the heart soar.

But in the song there was a secret little inner song, hardly perceptible, but always there, sweet and secret and clinging, almost hiding in the counter-melody, and this was the Song of the Pearl That Might Be...

I intended to make it sound guileless and rather sweet but you will see in it the little blades of social criticism without which no book is worth a fart in hell.

There's more beauty in the truth even if it is dreadful beauty. The storytellers at the city gate twist life so that it looks sweet to the lazy and the stupid and the weak, and this only strengthens their infirmities and teaches nothing, cures nothing, nor does it let the heart soar

There is more beauty in the truth even if it is dreadful beauty. The storytellers at the city gate twist life so that it looks sweet to the lazy and the stupid and the weak, and this not only strengthens their infirmity and teaches nothing, cures nothing, nor does it let the heart soar.

My family is from the South, and I can remember all those ladies I grew up with, like my great-aunts, who had handkerchiefs. There's something sweet about them.