Best 2891 quotes in «sweet quotes» category

I want my wife to wake me up with a sweet kiss

I want someone honest, someone who's very sweet to my family and friends, and polite to the other people around me.

I want people to say, 'She is really sweet and kind.' Anyone can work hard enough and be 'pretty.' Not many people are nice nowadays.

[I want to be remembered] as a sweet Christian girl, who was always loving and kind to everyone.

I want to let my fans know that I will not hold myself back anymore. Everybody knows me as "15-Year-Old Little Jessica who was on 'American Idol' and who is this sweet, quiet girl." I am very soft-spoken, but I have gone through numerous experiences, and I want to speak out and tell people what has been going on in my life.

I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and be sweet to the ones you love. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments of your life.

I want to open myself. ... I want the light of God, I want the sweet love of Jesus. I danced for the Devil; I saw him, I wrote in his book; I go back to Jesus; I kiss His hand. I saw Sarah Good with the Devil. I saw Goody Osburn with the Devil. I saw Bridget Bishop with the Devil!

I want to tell you though, I'm having the absolute best birthday ever. Last night -- this was so sweet, it means a great deal to me -- the other cult members got together and they all took me out to see Star Wars.

I want to thank you my sweet darling for digging in the mud and picking me up.

I war running back to the house in Mayaguez with a melting ice cone we called a piraqua running sweet and sticky down my face and arms, the sun in my eyes, breaking through clouds and glinting off the rain-soaked pavement and dripping leaves. I was running with joy, an overwhelming joy that arose simply from gratitude for the fact of being alive. Along with the image, memory carried these words from a child's mind through time: I am blessed. In this life I am truly blessed.

I was a fat child and loved cake, perhaps because it was the only sweet thing in my life.

I was a countryman and a father before I was a writer on political subjects... Born and bred up in the sweet air myself, I was resolved that my children should be bred up in it too.

I was always a sensitive, sweet kid, but I got brutalized and I became brutal. And frankly, I don't think it was my natural makeup. I don't think its anyone's natural makeup to be a violent brawler.

I was also reminded of one of the unique charms of NYC in the summer: vast piles of rotting garbage piled on the sidewalks, with that sweet yet nauseating smell of decomposing groceries sitting in the humid fetid air, and rancid food juices oozing over the sticky sidewalks. With my windows open to counter the stuffiness, I could occasionally catch a whiff of the stench outside. People actually like living in this chaotic, fetid monument to incompetence? Beats me.

I was a pen pal with one guy, a long time ago. I think we only wrote to each other twice. We didn't really keep it up that long. But, I love it. I think it's really sweet and very creative and freeing, when you get to put a pen to paper, 'cause you don't really do it that much these days, with all this technology.

I was at a Madonna show many, many years ago and I was in the sweet spot and she came out and I mean it was the best part of the show. And I was shooting, shooting, shooting, shooting. And I'm like, "God, I must have shot a hundred pictures have I not run out of film?" And I opened the back of my camera and there was no film in there. So that happened to me only once.

I was a very quiet kid. A really sweet kid, I might add.

I was in L.A. in '08. It was a cold Saturday night. I had spread my phone number out to a score of women and was just indulging this sweet, sad, elegiac, bale loneliness - don't tell me you haven't been there.

I was kind of sweet kid, according my mother, and my recollections. Thoughtful and good, but kind of alone - although I didn't interpret it that way, as such. Children never interpret these things. They think they understand logically.

I was just ready to make a movie for the girls. It was just really fun to write for a girl. It was really indulgent and sweet. The whole movie feels indulgent, doesn't it? It's such a romp in England.

I was like, "Who the hell is Bob Dylan?" I was going to learn one song to appease my mom and alphabetically the first song in the book was "Absolutely Sweet Marie." When I heard it, it was like "Oh, there is something going on here. It's not like my parents' boring music that I don't care about. This is totally electrifying.

I wasn’t like 'Oh, I'm going to marry 50 Cent...' I mean, seriously. But I did like him. He's very sweet and antithetical to what you'd think of him.

I was one of the first people to almost actually vomit over hearing the use of the phrase "family values" and I pride myself on never having fallen for the idea that Barbara Bush was sweet and grandmotherly. I met Barbara Bush and, as I expected, she was a tank with eyes, not a nice person at all and why should that blow anybody away?

I was pretty nervous when I met Robert DeNiro. I kind of felt like a kid in a candy store for the first time. I couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. But Bobby DeNiro was really, really sweet and made me feel very comfortable. He's very low-key and just a superstar professional, and totally someone to be admired.

I was sent this thing called 10 Things I Hate About You, which I thought was really sweet and female-centric and kind of cute and smart, with a really smart script. So I auditioned for it and got it, and I'm really glad I did, because the movie has a life of its own.

I wear Sweet Revenge, the legging boots, a lot particularly in the winter.

I was the biggest Harry Potter fan. I read all the books. Ron was always my favorite character, because I feel like I relate to him, like weve both got red hair, we both like sweets, weve both got lots of brothers and sisters. Ive got one brother and three sisters, and both scared of spiders.

I wonder if anyone but me realizes what goes on in that head back of your deceptively sweet face.

I will always remember you, even though you had no idea I was even in the room. My words wouldn't come, I could only dream. A crush or a love?

I will go back to the great sweet mother, Mother and lover of men, the sea. I will go down to her, I and no other, Close with her, kiss her and mix her with me.

I will tell you what this people need, with regard to preaching; you need, figuratively, to have it rain pitchforks, tines downwards, from this pulpit, Sunday after Sunday. Instead of the smooth, beautiful, sweet, still, silk-velvet-lipped preaching, you should have sermons like peals of thunder, and perhaps we then can get the scales from our eyes.

I wonder what my father saw in his most secret sight of the right life. It's my guess he wanted to live out his life surrounded by friends and children and fertile fields of his own designing. I tihnk he wanted to die believing he had been in one the creation of a good sweet place. Those old pilgrims believed stories in which the West was a promise, a far away place where decent people could escape the wreckage of the old world and start over. Come to me, the dream whispers, and you can have one more chance.

I will meet you in the dirtiest city you can dream of. We will drink cocktails so sweet they pucker our cheeks, as we perch on cracked leather bar stools. I will buy you plates of calcium and protein and we will run through the streets in excellent danger.

I would ban sweets from school - but this pressure to bring in healthy food is too much.

I woke up this morning, Smiled at the rising sun, Three little birds, Sat on my doorstep, Singing sweet songs

I would like to be known as someone who was really sweet but also knowledgeable in all areas of life.

I would make sweet love to Don Rickles.

I wouldn't call it bitter. I think it's just sweet. I've always believed my life seems like it's gotten better and better as each decade has gone by. So I don't see any I don't see any bitterness about it.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,His wife could eat no lean. A real sweet pair of neurotics.

I would say that whatever happens down the line, that Quicksilver vanishes from the movies, I don't know. At this point it is the beginning of him coming into the group and being a force that fights evil. It's pretty sweet.

I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.

January brings the snow / Makes your feet and fingers glow / February's ice and sleet / Freeze the toes right off your feet / Welcome March with wintry wind / Would thou wer't not so unkind / April brings the sweet spring showers / On and on for hours and hours.

Jazz music is to be played sweet, soft, plenty rhythm.

I wrote an essay too, and mine started something like, "When I was asked to contribute to this book, I said, 'I could do a piece on [Larry] Kramer as a pain in the ass, but I suppose you have too many of those, as it is.'" And Sarah's began something like, "When I read about America's angriest AIDS activist, I can't believe they are talking about my sweet Uncle Larry.

Jamie," I said, "how, exactly, do you decide whether you're drunk?" Aroused by my voice, he swayed alarmingly to one side, but caught himself on the edge of the mantelpiece. His eyes drifted around the room, then fixed on my face. For an instant, they blazed clear and pellucid with intelligence. "och, easy, Sassenach, If ye can stand up, you're not drunk." He let go of the mantelpiece, took a step toward me, and crumpled slowly onto the hearth, eyes blank, and a wide, sweet smile on his dreaming face.

Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves.

Joe: You don't want me, Sugar. I'm a liar and a phony. A saxophone player. One of those no-goodniks you keep running away from. Sugar: I know, every time. Joe: Sugar, do yourself a favor. Go back to where the millionaires are, the sweet end of the lollipop, not the cole slaw in the face, the old socks and the squeezed-out tube of toothpaste. Sugar: That's right. Pour it on. Talk me out of it. (She grabs him to kiss him.)

July is hollyhocks and hammocks, fireworks and vacations, hot and steamy weather, cool and refreshing swims, beach picnics, and vegetables all out of the garden - first sweet corn on the cob dripping with butter, first tomatoes dead ripe and sunwarm, string beans, squash, crisp cucumbers. July can also be hard and shiny, brassy and sharp. Some days are like copper pennies in the sunlight.

Joy, thou spark from Heav'n immortal, Daughter of Elysium! Drunk with fire, toward Heaven advancing Goddess, to thy shrine we come. Thy sweet magic brings together What stern Custom spreads afar; All men become brothers Where thy happy wing-beats are.

Just as children, step by step, must separate from their parents, we will have to separate from them. And we will probably suffer...from some degree of separation anxiety: because separation ends sweet symbiosis. Because separation reduces our power and control. Because separation makes us feel less needed, less important. And because separation exposes our children to danger.