Best 230 quotes in «honey quotes» category

Not all honey— she had concluded— had a specific use beyond what all honey is good for, sweetness and salves. But this honey, it was somehow so strong that it must be for something, though she had still not learnt what it was. The best she had come to was that this honey was for joy...

Now it's the bee... Gees! Bees are now endangered species... Without them life won't be sweet!

She had brought me more of the ricotta, which I ate, slurping at the spoon like a child while my companion watched, beaming. My mind showed me the bees working high in the chestnut trees, swarming through the polished, ridged leaves and over the long white brushes of flowers. I saw the dark heart of the nest, dripping gold. Goats clattered over rocks and tore at cushions of herbs.

Servers moved among the guests with trays of hors d'oeuvres and the signature cocktail, champagne with a honey infused liqueur and a delicate spiral twist of lemon. The banquet was bursting with color and flavor- flower-sprinkled salads, savory chili roasted salmon, honey glazed ribs, just-harvested sweet corn, lush tomatoes and berries, artisan cheeses. Everything had been harvested within a fifty-mile radius of Bella Vista. The cake was exactly what Tess had requested, a gorgeous tower of sweetness. Tess offered a gracious speech as she and Dominic cut the first slices. "I've come a long way from the city girl who subsisted on Red Bull and microwave burritos," she said. "There's quite a list of people to thank for that- my wonderful mother, my grandfather and my beautiful sister who created this place of celebration. Most of all, I'm grateful to Dominic." She turned to him, offering the first piece on a yellow china plate. "You're my heart, and there is no sweeter feeling than the love we share. Not even this cake. Wait, that might be overstating it. Everyone, be sure you taste this cake. It's one of Isabel's best recipes.

Son baiser prit une couleur d'or et de miel. À son parfum, il reconnut les notes vanillées de l'ananas, ses lèvres exhalant des fraîcheurs herbacées et des saveurs d'agave, comme une longue traînée de braise, et la chaleur de celles qui ont une flamme à la place du cœur.

She give me honey to make my voice sweet, but there never were a sweetness in me. I prefer a taste of rot.

She shrugged her shoulders, then shifted her attention to the hand-labeled glass jars of honey. "Which one do you want to use?" "Something mild to go with the cheese." "The milkweed blossom?" Isabel nodded. "We're probably the only ones who'll notice." "The different flavors of honey have always been obvious to me," Jamie said. "Not to me. I've had to train my palate. Same with wines. But I'm not a natural, but I love the alchemy of pairing flowers. If you were twenty-one and not pregnant, I'd give you a taste of this nice new sauvignon blanc from Angel Creek. It's going to go perfectly with the appetizers." She turned off the heat under the fried marcona almonds and gave the pan a shake. "One sip," Jamie insisted, nibbling a bit of the goat cheese and honey on a cracker. "One, young lady." Isabel poured a bit of the chilled white wine in a goblet and held it out to her. Jamie savored a tiny sip, and smiled blissfully. "You're right. It's delicious." Isabel took back the goblet. "Look at me, corrupting a minor.

She was drowning in sandalwood and sunlight. Time ceased to be more than a notion. Her lips were hers one moment. And then they were his. The taste of him on her tongue was like sun-warmed honey. Like cool water sliding down her parched throat. Like the promise of all her tomorrows in a single sigh. When she wound her fingers in his hair to draw her body against his, he stilled for breath, and she knew, as he knew, that they were lost. Lost forever. In this kiss. This kiss that would change everything.

So what's on the menu?" "We soak prunes in whisky and tea, dip them in honey, and stuff them with walnuts. These are mixed with sausage for the stuffing. I usually soak the prunes for several days, but we'll make do." "My God. That sounds fabulous." Elliott nodded, but said nothing. He was staring at her intently. "And..." "And..." What was he waiting for? He started to fiddle with the pencil. Finally she realized he was waiting for her input! He had no idea how to banter back-and-forth or to brainstorm creatively. She broke the awkward silence. "Elliott, are you waiting for my suggestions for dinner?" "Aye. I'm waiting." "I think... we should go with the honey." "I use heather honey in North Berwick. But I'm sure the honey here will be fine." "My favorite is from the Akins Apiary. They have delicious apple honey. It's rare, but I'll see if they have some in the pantry." "Excellent. What... what else do you like about the honey?" Sophia tried not to laugh out loud at Elliott's stilted and awkward attempt at conversation. The give-and-take was clearly not a natural process for him. "Let's use the honey in all our dishes. How about roasted vegetables in a balsamic-honey dressing? With thyme? I think rutabaga and turnips would be a nice side for the turkey." He scratched something on his tablet. "Keep going." "And how about a bitter green salad? Maybe arugula and dandelion greens with a honey vinaigrette That will cut the richness of the bird." Elliott nodded. "I like both of those ideas. This meal will showcase the best of both of us... a traditional Scottish roast bird and various preparations for the vegetables and greens.

Stands the clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

Stay out of this,” she (Christy) snapped at me, wiping futilely at her cheeks. “This isn’t your business.” “When you blamed Adam, whose only fault that I can see is that he has poor taste in wives, you made it my business,” I told her. Honey cleared her throat. “You do know you are one of his wives, right?” I raised an eyebrow. “Happily, he doesn’t know how bad off he is with me—and I intend that he never will.

The fun part is finding which thoughts, in that crazy beehive of emotion, are the ones that mass produce the honey.

The Honey that Adorns my soul to Network with all Nobility in an Affable Humility means Hannah

The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.

There is honey in this land sweeter than any I know of, and I have cut cane in places where the dirt itself tasted like sugar, so that's saying a heap.

The ideas flow like milk and honey in my land, my mind.

The stories shatter. Or you wear them out or leave them behind. Over time the story of the memory loses its power. Over time you become someone else. Only when the honey turns to dust are you free.

The sweeter the honey the smarter the bee that made it.

The taste of moon is like honey to all honeymooners, but after some years does the moon's scar make it bitter?

The woman's face was grimly drawn, an ugly expression on an indescribably beautiful face. “This is the Shadowdun. You know who I am, but I wish to know you more. What is your name?” Her voice was rich; it sounded sweet and smooth in Athena's ears, like soft honey. She hated every last word.

There's a depth in you that has yet been discovered. Abyssal and buried it terrifies your lovers. These trenches carved in your heart from years of pain frozen over into ice. Bottomless cracks in your chest  where no one can touch you  has become paradise.

We are bees then; our honey is language.

We are not wrong, perhaps, to be heedful of justice in the midst of a universe that heeds not at all; as the bee is not wrong to make honey in a world that itself can make none. But we are wrong to desire an external justice, since we know that it does not exist. Let that which is in us suffice. All is for ever being weighed and judged in our soul. It is we who shall judge ourselves; or rather, our happiness is our judge.

Well,” Gavin drawls, “at least now I know what to do if that ever happens. I’ll throw a jar of honey and run like hell.

To make yourself beautiful you oiled your body with honey, enchanting the bees.

Try to be the best; try never to be the worst! Live and play the role honey plays on your tongue in the lives of people; never do the job that pepper does on your eyes to others!

Where you find bees you find honey.

When you see honey in the bush and there are no sign of bees, flee!! for its all but a trap

You can't rock the boat & act like you were just trying to put a baby to sleep.

You fell in love with her when she couldn't love herself. You loved her wide brown eyes that resembled the color of pure honey, and her big plump lips that were perfect enough to kiss. You loved her voice when she called your name because she couldn't fall asleep, and the silence of it all when she was long gone in her dreams. You taught her to love herself; head, toe, and everything in between. Her body, her mind and soul. Let nothing intervene.

Your kiss is honey and your touch scorches like fire, and I worship it.

All you gotta do honey is kinda stand in one spot, wiggle around just a little bit.

Always remember honey. A good motto is: Take all you can get and give as little as possible.

And Honey, I miss you and I'm being good. And I'd love to be with you if only I could.

As my Sicilian grandfather used to say, you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, right?

And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

As bees extract honey from thyme, the strongest and driest of herbs, so sensible men often get advantage and profit from the most awkward circumstances.

Whenever I am faced with a challenge, I think about how winning feels, Victory is as sweet as honey, A taste which can lasts a lifetime

A spoon full of honey gets more flies than a barrel full of vinegar.

As the dog sprinted back, Jack said to the girl, "Sweetheart,honey, why do you have to be so hateful?" "Why not?" Ellie said. "It's not like being good ever got me anywhere.

As the bee collecteth honey with great zest, so the fool collecteth wealth.

Barmaid, bring a pitcher, another round of brew. Honey, why don't we get drunk and screw?

As you do not sweeten your mouth by saying honey, so you do not grow virtuous by merely talking of virtue.

A township where one primitive forest waves above while another primitive forest rots below,--such a town is fitted to raise not only corn and potatoes, but poets and philosophers for the coming ages. In such a soil grew Homer and Confucius and the rest, and out of such a wilderness comes the Reformer eating locusts and wild honey.

At the end of the Peterson trial, my daughter turns to me and she goes, 'Daddy, are you going to kill Mommy?' 'Oh, honey - that's up to mommy, isn't it?

Because I’ve got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding," “Why are they all high-calorie foods?

Behold, I am weary of my wisdom, like a bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to receive it.

Bees sip honey from flowers and hum their thanks when they leave. The gaudy butterfly is sure that the flowers owe thanks to him.

Because of the varroa mite, wild honey bees are now, for all practical purposes, extinct in the United States.

Books are the beehives of thought; laconics, the honey taken from them.