Quotes About Sweetness

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!

Un pachadi aux fleurs de nîm devait avoir le goût de la vie: amer, sucré, acide, frais et épicé. (p.72)

Sally said with wide-eyed innocence, "I think you're pretty too, Pa." Clay seemed taken aback for a moment, then he smiled down at Sally and chucked her under the chin with his gloved fist. "Well, thank you darlin'. I reckon that's about the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.

Love is something like the clouds that were in the sky, Before the sun came out. You cannot touch the clouds, you know; but you feel the rain and know How glad the flowers and the thirsty earth are to have it after a hot day. You cannot touch love either, But you feel the sweetness that it pours into everything.

Forget love... I'd rather fall in chocolate.

I love more and more, but actually I don't know why. You are so sweet, so tender, so careful with my soul, and me a stupid angel, I'm afraid to tell you you're exactly what I'm wainting for.

you'll get chocolate all over the

My stubborn, self-savvy heart will not reach for the sky if my earth becomes everything I need. If people fill me up then where is my need for the transcendent? If everything is glory and beauty and sweetness and light, will I be the type of soul that reaches to Jesus?

The shreiking fight or the out-of-character insult endures forever, while the daily sweetness dissolves like sugar in water.

In this way Penelope's happy and sad feelings got all mixed up together, until they were not unlike one of those delicious cookies they have nowadays, the ones with a flat circle of sugary cream sandwiched between two chocolate-flavored wafers. In her heart she felt a soft, hidden core of sweet melancholy nestled inside crisp outer layers of joy, and if that is not the very sensation most people feel at some point or other during the holidays, then one would be hard pressed to say what is.

Love is sweet even when what you go through is bitter.

As Emily Dickinson, eternally great poet and occasionally anxious agoraphobe, said: "That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

That it will never come again, Is what makes life so sweet. —EMILY DICKINSON

The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.

Culture is the passion for sweetness and light, and (what is more) the passion for making them prevail.

He who works for sweetness and light united, works to make reason and the will of God prevail.

Culture . . . seeks to do away with classes; to make the best that has been thought and known in the world current everywhere; to make all men live in an atmosphere of sweetness and light...

So while we praise and esteem the zeal of the Nonconformists in walking staunchly by the best light they have, and desire to take no whit from it, we seek to add to this what we call sweetness and light, and develope their full humanity more perfectly; and to seek this is certainly not to be the enemy of the Nonconformists.

When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough. If we always had smiled on the one who is gone, there would be no despair in our grief; and some sweetness would cling to our tears, reminiscent of virtues and happiness. For our recollections of veritable love—which indeed is the act of virtue containing all others—call from our eyes the same sweet, tender tears as those most beautiful hours wherein memory was born.

Stick to life, just like a baby sticking to a candy!

Sweetness eliminates gravity and thus a man with a heavy burden of life starts feeling like floating in the air before sweetness.

Sweetness! World needs sweetness! It needs a sweet child, a sweet dolphin, a sweet monkey; it needs sweet people to soften the callous hearts!

I'd never forget the smell of the orchard. It was imprinted on me like the scent of my mother's Aliage perfume. Overly sweet, musty, blossomy, leaves-turning, fruit-ripening.

Assisi was like something, but like what? Like something one had always known, but never seen. Something perceived from afar, like a wind from the promised land that greeted the stranger and sojourner coming up out of bondage from Egypt. It was joy, no doubt about that. But a joy unlike any other joy he had ever experienced. Unexpected joy in a dark time. Curious joy. There was no other word that approximated it. A taste of sweetness like the fecundity of grape arbors in the terraces below,