Best 120 quotes in «bittersweet quotes» category

There's always a bittersweet kind of thing, but I feel like everything had to work out the way it is. Everything that had to happen, happened.

The life, when we're aware of beauty, is kind of a bittersweet thing, it's a transient reminder of eternal beauty, which someday we will be face to face with.

To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.

To me, the human experience does involve a great deal of anguish. It's joyful, but it's bittersweet. I just think that's life.

And as Sean climbs into bed and closes his eyes, Mother comes, riding astride a lion the size of a house, blowing a clarion from a horn made out of a hollowed-out elephant's tusk. Her eyes have a faint crimson glow from the lasers that are mounted behind her irises, ready to fire at will. 'I touched a prince's chest today and made his heart stop,' she says. 'I'll do it again if I have to: they'll see what happens if anyone gets in my way. Good night, my son. Remember that I will always keep you safe; that I am always everywhere and always here.' 'Good night, Mom,' Sean says, and falls asleep. And Mother recedes, wise and beautiful and strong, a genius and a hero, a punisher of thieves and a slayer of wicked men, to watch over her son in all her different versions.

We feel a kind of bittersweet pricking of malicious delight in contemplating the misfortunes of others.

And who am I, mighty Khan? She felt warmth in him then, the beginnings of a smile deep inside. He spread his wings. Bowed his head. Purred. YOU ARE YUKIKO.

And the pomegranates,/ like memories, are bittersweet/ as we huddle together,/ remembering just how good/ life used to be

And you find some way to survive And you find out you don't have to be happy at all.. To be happy you're alive.

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar They're worth so much more after I'm a goner And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin' Funny when you're dead how people start listenin

Beautiful surroundings, the society of learned men, the charm of noble women, the graces of art, could not make up for the loss of those light-hearted mornings of the desert, for that wind that made one a boy again. He had noticed that this peculiar quality in the air of new countries vanished after they were tamed by man and made to bear harvests. Parts of Texas and Kansas that he had first known as open range had since been made into rich farming districts, and the air had quite lost that lightness, that dry, aromatic odour. The moisture of plowed land, the heaviness of labour and growth and grain-bearing, utterly destroyed it; one could breathe that only on the bright edges of the world, on the great grass plains or the sage-brush desert.

between your arms it was to die to feel your warmth the bliss of your heart it was my life

But homegirl don’t know jack about hockey!

But lives were long, and people changed.

Avis puts aside the 'Saint-Honore' and decides to embark on a new pastry. She's assembling ingredients when the phone rings in the next room. She ignores it as she arranges her new mise en place. This recipe is constructed on a foundation of hazelnuts- roasted, then roughed in a towel to help remove skins. These are ground into a gianduja paste with shaved chocolate, which she would normally prepare in her food processor, but today she would rather smash it together by hand, using a meat tenderizer on a chopping block. She pounds away and only stops when she hears something that turns out to be Nina's voice on the answering machine: "Ven, Avis, you ignoring me? Contesta el telefono! I know you're there. Ay, you know what- you're totally impossible to work for..." Avis starts pounding again. Her assistants never last more than a year or two before something like this happens. They go stale, she thinks: everything needs to be turned over. Composted. She feels invigorated, punitive and steely as she moves through the steps of the recipe. It was from one of her mother's relatives, perhaps even Avis's grandmother- black bittersweets- a kind of cookie requiring slow melting in a double boiler, then baking, layering, and torching, hours of work simply to result in nine dark squares of chocolate and gianduja tucked within pieces of 'pate sucree.' The chocolate is a hard, intense flavor against the rich hazelnut and the wisps of sweet crust- a startling cookie. Geraldine theorized that the cookie must have been invented to give to enemies: something exquisitely delicious with a tiny yield. The irony, from Avis's professional perspective was that while one might torment enemies with too little, it also exacted an enormous labor for such a small revenge.

Even though we’re no longer dating and haven’t spoken in awhile, I still look him up to make sure he’s doing alright.

Eventually I’ll stop writing about you and it’ll be bittersweet. Not because I’m not in love with you, but because I’ll just love you.

George: Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf? Martha: I am, George. I am.

With his venom irresistible and bittersweet that loosener of limbs, Love reptile-like strikes me down

But one day, when Toby is old enough, I will take down a shoe box from a shelf where it is kept, and I will tell him again the story of his sister, Isabel Margaret Cavendish, the girl who came before.

Each kiss was nearer to the last one of all.

Elles ont le corps pulpeux là où le regard mâle cherche du rebondi, quelque chose de ferme, doux et chaud pour remplir une paume rêche, rarement propre à cause des travaux manuels qui ne sont pas le lot des maîtres au village. Le type usé cherche un corps jeune pour essuyer ses mains crottées d'homme vaillant, un corps-torchon qui sent bon la vanille importée, la mauvaise gousse taillée, puis frottée entre les seins et à l'attache des bras qui n'a pas connu le fil du couteau sur la veine la plus apparente, celle qui pisserait rouge si on la tranchait dans le sens de la mort.

Had I only known my letters Would be of such importance I’d empty myself on paper Every single morning’ And it was for such reason, as she read his little stanza, that she decided to stamp one final letter: ‘Every single morning I’d empty myself on paper You were my greater importance That’s why I wrote you letters.

Halfway down the aisle, Jamie suddenly seemed to tire, and they stopped while she caught her breath...It was, I remembered thinking, the most difficult walk anyone ever had to make. In every way, a walk to remember.

He grabbed my hand and that’s when I felt my heart beat for the very first time.

Her eyes flashed, hot and angry, like lightening cutting through a red sunset.

He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he was something. Someone who made a positive impact on my life regardless of the negative. He changed my perspective for the better and made me who I am in this very second. I appreciate, cherish, and thank him for it; and I will for this life and into any life that may come.

He was the friend of my life. You know, you only have one friend like that; there can't be two.

I ain’t scared to lend a hand I ain’t scared to clench it either

I am happy with you." It was only a half-lie. In truth, being with him made me happier than anything. But it was a bittersweet happiness because from this moment on, it would be overshadowed with the wait and wonder of when and how our relationship would dissolve.

I am sitting at my kitchen table waiting for my lover to arrive with lettuce and tomatoes and rum and sherry wine and a big floury loaf of bread in the fading sunlight. Coffee is percolating gently, and my mood is mellow. I have been very happy lately, just wallowing in it selfishly, knowing it will not last very long, which is all the more reason to enjoy it now. I suppose life always ends badly for almost everybody. We must have long fingers and catch at whatever we can while it is passing near us.

He had big plans for you," I said with tears rolling down my face. "That's why it took so long." Sir Alistair stopped and looked back, looking with affection at Marco, Yipes, and me. "We all play our part. Some roles just dray on a little more than others.

If I lived forever, who knows what I would do?" he continues. "I would certainly get better at the piano. I would try to learn how to paint. I think I would try to read all the books I haven’t read. When I was a child, the house was full of books — the walls were lined with bookshelves — and I remember looking up at them once and thinking, ‘I wonder if I’ll ever be able to read all those books?’ and my mother said, ‘It’s all right; you’ve got loads of time.’ But actually we don’t have that much time — I know I won’t. There will be things I’ll miss out on.

I found it not inappropriate that the years of frustration and grief and loss, of work and conflict and painful resurrection, should have led me through their dark and devious ways to this new beginning.

If there is an afterlife, I want my soul intact. And then maybe I'll see you there."I smiled, somehow calm now that I was facing something inevitable. I was getting the good-bye I'd always wanted. - Nikki

i have laughed more than daffodils and cried more than June.

I loved everything to anything to everyone who surrounded him. He was perfect. A delusion with a sweet melancholy taste. He was crazy, but he was my crazy and inside, everything felt right.

I miss the thrill of your self-destructive heart that melts in the sun like chocolate, bittersweet and incandescent.

I’m sorry I broke you. It’s just that you’re so pretty, and I break pretty things.

I told you I loved you, but I said it a little too late. You move in time and sometimes our timing is against one another.

It's a good story,' he said. He even grinned at me. 'I'll tell you.' 'Please,' I said. And then he did.

Giggles gave way to gasps when his face split into a grin, never mind that he was looking right at her. When he strode across the room and slumped languidly into the seat next to her, the whole room went silent.

Beware, Morgane. You thought I wasn't dangerous? That chocolate was too sweet, too soft to rival your ink and your needles? Chocolate is an ancient art. It comes from very far away. And under the softness, the sweetness- it waits. And it is bitter.

I can tell you this: there will be other girls, other disasters. And there will be nights to come, his life mostly behind him, when he will long to hurt like that again.

I don’t believe he deserves the thousands of poems I’ve written about him, but life doesn’t follow rules. We do things for people who don’t necessarily deserve it. But we liked it, we loved it and fell in love enough to write about it.

I feel this very bittersweet moment so well, and so clearly, and so fondly, especially since to feel the bittersweet moments of life is to feel the best of it all.

I knew beauty for me would only ever be derived from loss.

...I live with regrets - the bittersweet loss of innocence - the red track of the moon upon the lake - the inability to return and do it again...

I'm sorry!" Piggy cried, knowing for certain now that he could never return. That he had a promise to keep in the freezing current below. And swerving away from his advancing father, from his mother, from Charlie Volchek too, all of whose cries he imagined he heard carried on the wind, he shouted to Sam to wait for him, that he was coming. Then, in one soaring swoop, he flew out after her through empty space and thought with blinding clarity as he fell: So this is what love comes to.

I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to float or fall a thousand feet and create the crevice I called my life. But the thing with crevices, there’s always a top and always a bottom. And the feeling of appreciation when you look from the top and understand how fast it can all come crashing down — it’s more than beautiful and more than words could ever explain.