Quotes About Plums

With people you can never tell, Will they have changed when next we meet? But here in my dear old home at least, The plums still smell as sweet. / ???? ????? ????? ???? ???????

I have eatenthe plumsthat were inthe iceboxand whichyou were probablysavingfor breakfastForgive methey were deliciousso sweetand so cold

If you wanna find out 101 things to do with plums, heh, read your in-flight magazine.

I declare, you eat more plums than you pick up," Mary said. "I don't either any such a thing," Laura contradicted. "I pick up every plum I eat.

Fault. In English or in Cantonese, that was the word we were all afraid of. I held it like a seed in my mouth. As kids, the three of us loved to suck on dried plums. Long after the sour and salty fruit dissolved, the seed stayed sweet, the true secret. Now I was afraid my secret guilt would start to grow sweet, and I would never want to spit it out.

Summer in Seattle allows me to indulge in some of the region's top culinary delights - I'm talking about wild king salmon and fresh, ripe Washington stone fruits and berries like cherries, peaches, plums, and blueberries.

A whole ocean of rain seemed to be pouring out of the sky. We sat under an awning near a hotel parking lot and ate yellow plums. Eventually Rózsa ate one of the cookies I had bought, and I felt happy and proud, like I had successfully fed a shy and proud animal. Within minutes the sun was blazing as if it didn't remember a thing.

the food shortages required inventiveness...Daphne showed me the difference it made if she placed plums in a green bowl or in a yellow bowl before she set them on the table.

Her sobs grew worse, more bitter, until finally I bent and kissed her soft neck and cheeks. Winter plums. Plums from an enchanted wood where the fruit never falls from the boughs. Where the flowers never wither and die.

Twilight was laying claim to the cité, and the sky was a deepening shade of lavender, spangled with stars and fleecy clouds the colour of plums.

Plums deify.

My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird - equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums...

Such richness flowing through the branches of summer and into the body, carried inward on the five rivers! Disorder and astonishment rattle your thoughts and your heart cries for rest but don't succumb, there's nothing so sensible as sensual inundation. Joy is a taste before it's anything else, and the body can lounge for hours devouring the important moments. Listen, the only way to tempt happiness into your mind is by taking it into the body first, like small wild plums.

the blossom of our family, like one of those miraculous fruit trees that taps into an invisible vein of nurture and bears radiant bushels of plums while the trees around it merely go on living.

The 'Stephanie Plums' are very much Jersey books. So you can't get away from attitude and objectionable language.

Damson plums were a favorite Elizabethan fruit and "eaten before dyner, be good to provoke a mans appetyde." They were also popular dried into prunes. It is unclear why, perhaps because they allegedly inflamed men's appetites, but stewed prunes were a favorite dish at Elizabethan brothels and also were a synonym for prostitutes. Shakespeare mentions prunes in that context in King Henry IV, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and Measure for Measure.

Harvard takes perfectly good plums as students, and turns them into prunes.

I grew up surrounded by generously yielding plum trees, and as a family we were constantly on the hunt for inspired ways to use up the lovely plums before age got the better of them.

An efficiency-regime cannot be run without a few heroes stuck about it to carry off the dullness - much as plums have to be put into a bad pudding to make it palatable.

lamb stew with dried plums,

Your jam puts store-bought to shame. As I ate it on a fresh croissant from the French bakery at the Farmers Market down the street from my house, I savored the image you painted with your words. I would love to spend a summer morning in the Pacific Northwest sunshine picking wild blackberries. I also crave your backyard access to crisp apples, plums, and pears, although I am not sure I would trade them for the grapefruit and oranges I pluck from my own trees for breakfast whenever I like.

Our actions make the fragrance of our lives...Would you smell of plums? Or Vinegar?

Are the angels of her bed the angels who come near me alone in mine? Are the green trees in her window the color is see in ripe plums? If she always sees backward and upside down without knowing it what chance do we have? I am haunted by the feeling that she is saying melting lords of death, avalanches, rivers and moments of passing through, And I am replying, Yes, yes. Shoes and pudding.

Her feet were bare, her mouth stained damson. Her pockets were all full of plums. She was young and lovely and surprised and dead. She was also blue.