Best 120 quotes in «bittersweet quotes» category

What I used to be will pass away and then you'll see That all I want now is happiness for you and me

When Life is Well say THANK YOU & CELEBRATE, and when life is Bitter say THANK YOU & GROW.

You are the illness I will never cure. You are the poem I will never write. You are the thought I will never finish. You are the text I will never read.

With you I'd dance in the rain in my best dress, fearless

You are the beautiful half of a golden hurt.

You expect certain things to always be there, like the bakery on the corner, or the boy you grew up with. But when the very ground can eat you alive without warning, what's to say the ocean won't dry up? Or the stars won't suddenly shut off? Nothing is forever.

You cannot drink the nectar of love without bleeding for its thorns.

At my age, you not only have bittersweet memories, you make bittersweet plans.

After 30 novels, release day is still a thrill. Its always a little bittersweet, too.

You'ld think I'ld be used to saying good bye to you by now.

Clearly it is not the lovelorn sufferer who seeks solace in chocolate, but rather the chocolate-deprived individual, who, desperate, seeks in mere love a pale approximation of bittersweet euphoria.

Every reader should ask himself periodically “Toward what end, toward what end?”—but do not ask it too often lest you pass up the fun of programming for the constipation of bittersweet philosophy.

I believe love is bittersweet, especially young love.

Having more exposure is kind of a bittersweet thing for me, honestly, because it's nice to have a little more job security in life now.

It's quite highly possible that I have peaked. I mean, I just can't imagine what else I could do beyond this. It's really a bittersweet kind of feeling.

If you begin to face your fears, something bittersweet is going to happen to you: You'll grow up.

I love that feeling of when it's touching and it makes you happy but there's a melancholy or bittersweet glaze to it.

In life, there are those relationships where you really love someone, but they're just not right for you and there's a little bittersweet feel to it.

I guess bittersweet is probably my favorite tone, as a lover of Woody Allen and Federico Fellini and the French New Wave. You know, old Hollywood, sad movies. I guess it's my picture of suburban life, a lot of it being very, very lonely. I wanted to have that infused into the feeling of it.

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Love - bittersweet, irrepressible - loosens my limbs and I tremble.

Mab Jones' poetry is suffused with a cool wit and a wisdom beyond her years. She is a superb performance poet in the tradition of Joolz Denby and Pam Ayres and, like them, her work is beautifully layered and contains bittersweet depths.

My style of comedy is very real and bittersweet, and sort of always on the verge of kind of being tragic.

I was raped by a doctor. Which is, you know, so bittersweet for a Jewish girl.

Life is bittersweet. Inside our heads, if we're lucky, we're the same kids as we were when we were young.

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

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.

That she was irreplaceable became a bittersweet loyalty: Her death was what I had now instead of her.

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.

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.

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

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 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.

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

But homegirl don’t know jack about hockey!

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.

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.

But lives were long, and people changed.

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

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

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.

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.

Each kiss was nearer to the last one of all.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.