Best 2891 quotes in «sweet quotes» category

Am I being typecast as a horrible person? I don't know. I don't think so. But if it happens, I'd rather get to play that, because there's nothing fun about being sweet. Sweet can be so boring, so I'd be happy staying away from that.

Among of green stiff old bright broken branch come white sweet May again

Among the most joyful people I have known have been some who seem to have had no human reason for joy. The sweet fragrance of Christ has shown through their lives.

A mother's love is a sanctuary, Where our soul can find sweet rest, From the struggle and the tension, Of life's fast and futile quest.

A more secret, sweet, and overpowering beauty appears to man when his heart and mind open to the sentiment of virtue. Then he is instructed in what is set above him. He learns that his being is without bound; that to the good, to the perfect, he is born, low as he now lies in evil and weakness.

. . . And always remember that you are Americans, and it is your birthright to dream great dreams in this sweet and blessed land, truly the greatest, freest, strongest nation on Earth.

An author is like a baker; it is for him to make the sweets, and others to buy and enjoy them.

And all winds go sighing For sweet things dying.

And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.... And as to you corpse, I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips — I reach to the polished breasts of melons. And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.

And all now is war where so lately there was peace, and the sweet brotherhood, the use of tilled fields.

And believe it or not, a new record from Philly's greatest, the Roots. It's kind of bitter sweet, to be honest. Well, maybe not so bitter. It's called "Rising Down.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

And if I fight, then for what?""For nothing easy or sweet, and I told you that last year and the year before that. For your own challenge, for your own mistakes and the punishment for them, for your own definition of love and of sanity - a good strong self with which to begin to live.

And I don't believe that children are innocent. In fact, no one seriously believes that. Just go to a playground and watch the kids playing in the sandbox! The romantic notion of the sweet child is simply the parents projecting their own wishes.

And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief.

And i start sleeping and dreaming and i think i'll dream about you, all through the night.

And I will capture your minds with sweet novelty. [Lat., Dulcique animos novitate tenebo.]

And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.

And now, my friend, I am going to expose to you all my weaknesses. All men, I believe, are under a necessity of paying tribute at some time or other to Love, and it is vain to strive to avoid it. I was a philosopher, yet this tyrant of the mind triumphed over all my wisdom; his darts were of greater force than all my reasonings, and with a sweet constraint he led me wherever he pleased.

And now everything has changed once again. The air of the Close each evening is full of bird song - I've never really noticed it before. Full of birdsong and summer perfumes, full of strange glimpses and intimations just out of the corner of my eye, of longings and sadness and undefined hopes.It has a name, this sweet disturbance. Its name is Lamorna.

And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high; And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.

And pray what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary noons, than a sufficient number of ears of green sweet corn boiled, with the addition of salt?

And so, Thanksgiving. Its the most amazing holiday. Just think about it — it's a miracle that once a year so many millions of Americans sit down to exactly the same meal as one another, exactly the same meal they grew up eating, and exactly the same meal they ate a year earlier. The turkey. The sweet potatoes. The stuffing. The pumpkin pie. Is there anything else we all can agree so vehemently about? I don't think so.

And then the rose-border. What intensity in those odorous buds of the Bon Silene, making the very spirit bound as though a message had reached it from heaven. And the verbena bed is compassed with fitful fragrance. Even the pansies, with their dewy eyes, are ready to rival the violets now.... Nor must the purple buds of the calycanthus be forgotten. 'Sweet-scented shrub' indeed; for let me hide but a single one of these in some fold of my dress, and the spices of Araby will float around me till the evening.

And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, She needs not June for beauty's heightening.

And the wind will whip your tousled hair, The sun, the rain, the sweet despair, Great tales of love and strife. And somewhere on your path to glory You will write your story of a life.

And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

And, to be honest, if weed is a gateway drug, then I really did hop the fence, but sometimes I can't help but miss the sticky-sweet warmth of a good old fashioned hot box.

…and to all you other cats and chicks out there, sweet or otherwise, buried deep in wordy tombs, who never yet have walked from off the page, a shake and a hug and a kiss and a drink. Cheers!

And what if thou, sweet May, hast known Mishap by worm and blight; If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight; If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare; Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair.

And when he catches me looking at him, he gives me this incredibly sweet, calm smile, and I think that we've got our lives ahead of us, our whole lives.

And when life's sweet fable ends, soul and body part like friends; no quarrels, murmurs, no delay; a kiss, a sigh, and so away.

And wheresoever, in his rich creation, Sweet music breathes--in wave, or bird, or soul-- 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation Of that great tune to which the planets roll!

And, whoa!" He turned to Mr.D. "Your the wine dude? No way!" Mr.D turned hi eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of loathing. "The wine dude?" "Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine!" "My figurine." "In my game, Mythomagic. And holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks your the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!" "Ah." Mr.D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. "Well, that's...gratifying.

And we'd drink huge amounts of scotch and coke, which is a ghastly sweet drink... And now people don't drink nearly as much, for good reason. We're all a little wiser.

And what is more melancholy than the old apple-trees that linger about the spot where once stood a homestead, but where there is now only a ruined chimney rising our of a grassy and weed-grown cellar? They offer their fruit to every wayfarer--apples that are bitter-sweet with the moral of times vicissitude.

And when a strong man is sweet, even Goddesses look down from Mount Olympus.

An evidence that our will has been broken is that we begin to thank God for that which once seemed so bitter, knowing that his will is good and that, in His time and in His way, He is able to make the most bitter waters sweet.

An exile, ill in heart and frame,-- A wanderer, weary of the way;-- A stranger, without love's sweet claim On any heart, go where I may!

Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?” [Finn] asked in a hopeful voice. I arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren't enough?” “I’m a growing boy,” Finn said in a sincere tone. “I need my vitamins.” Bria snorted. “The only thing that’s growing on you, Lane, is your ego.” Finn sidled up to my sister and gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, other things of mine also tend to swell up in your presence, detective.

Another lesson about a naive fool who came to Babylon, and found out that the pie don't taste so sweet.

Anybody hear the great news, today? Jimmy Swaggart under investigation! Oh Ja-eezus! One day every one of those cocksuckers will get caught! I understand in the case of Mr. Swaggart, that he claims that it was not multiple encounters with many prostitutes - apparently, only one sweet young thing. And he did tell Cal Thomas of the Moral Majority that the sex act itself was not fully consumated. However he did admit to doing something por-no-graphic with the girl. Let's use our imaginations, ladies and gentlemen.

Anything sweet, really sweet, that I have was nothing that I planned.

Anything that is white is sweet. Anything that is brown is meat. Anything that is grey, don't eat.

Anything worth having is hard to keep, I love you like my coffee, so hot and so sweet. So, let's stick it out so we never regret it, I could forgive the past-but I never forget it.

A poet is no rattlebrain, saying what comes uppermost, and, because he says every thing, saying, at last, something good; but a heart in unison with his time and country. There is nothing whimsical or fantastic in his production, but sweet and sad earnest, freighted with the weightiest convictions, and pointed with the most determined aim which any man or class knows of in his times.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.

Arcitc Harp seal pup populations are declining as they are commercially hunted for oil and fur and global warming causes the ice where pups are born to break up and melt. Now these sweet and adorable pups face yet another human threat: oil spills.

Ardent, intelligent, sweet, sensitive, cultivated, erudite. These are the adjectives of praise in an androgynous world. Those who consider them epithets of shame or folly ought not to be trusted with leadership, for they will be men hot for power and revenge, certain of right and wrong.