Best 2891 quotes in «sweet quotes» category

Insane for your sweet, sweet love!

In short I will part with anything for you but you.

…in silence learned the sweet solace which affection administers to sorrow.

In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.

In tangled wreath, in clustered gleaming stars, In floating, curling sprays, The golden flower comes shining though the woods These February days; Forth go all hearts, all hands, from out the town, To bring her gayly in, This wild, sweet Princess of far Florida - The yellow jessamine.

In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.

In the dictionary, beautiful, love, amazing, and sweet all have the same definition: the definition is you.

In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

In the hours of distress and misery, the eyes of every mortal turn to friendship; in the hours of gladness and conviviality, what is our want? It is friendship. When the heart overflows with gratitude, or with any other sweet or sacred sentiment, what is the word to which it would give utterance? A friend.

In the pulpit, I really feel like I'm in my sweet spot, I'm in my stride.

In the sweet territory of silence we touch the mystery. It's the place of reflection and contemplation, and it's the place where we can connect with the deep knowing, to the deep wisdom way.

In the southern half of the country perhaps no crop has larger possibilities for quick increase of production of food for both men and animals than the sweet potato.

In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.

In the worship of Bacchus, we have sacrificed too freely.... Why not consecrate ourselves to the queen of the Camelias, and revel in the warm stream of sympathy that flows from her altar? In the liquid amber within the ivory-porcelain, the initiated may touch the sweet reticence of Confucius.

In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .

In those sticky summer nights in South London our windows stay open and our tiny apartment becomes our secret garden. The magic of the secret garden is that it exists in our imagination. There are no limits, no borderlines. The secret garden leads to the marigolds of Mogadishu and the magnolias of Kingston and when the heat turns us sticky and sweet and unwilling to be claimed by defeat we own the night. We own our bodies. We own our lives.

Intimacy without commitment, like icing without cake, can be sweet, but it ends up making us sick.

I often begin movies with music in my head; it's a very important dimension to me. Not just the music itself, but how to use music in film: when and how and subtlety. I don't like to be too sweet in my stories, and I like the abrasive clang, the contrasting of sounds and cultures.

I only want sweet peace and kindliness when I awaken -- but there's always some finger pointing, telling me some terrible deed I committed during the night. It seems I make a lot of mistakes and it seems that I am not allowed any.

I only do numbers/acts that excite me, or I connect to personally. I never phone it in. It's about finding the balance between what my audience wants and what I want to give them. That sweet spot in the vendiagram.

I organized Sweet Honey In The Rock in 1973. The music was sanity and balance.

I played the young Reese Witherspoon in 'Sweet Home Alabama' when I was 7, and the boy who played the young Josh Lucas was 10.

I plucked a honeysuckle where The hedge on high is quick with thorn, And climbing for the prize, was torn, And fouled my feet in quag-water; And by the thorns and by the wind The blossom that I took was thinn'd, And yet I found it sweet and fair.

I personally got to draw a take on a character that I've had in my mind since I was a teenager. That was pretty sweet!

I really became aware of the fact that, oh yeah, whereas a lot of other shows are sort of cynical or jaded or just sort of coming from that sort of energy, our show is very, very about these love-based relationships. It really comes out, a lot of times, in a sweet way. And I think people find that refreshing about our show. That's one of the things I definitely picked up on.

I prefer working on films. I like the variety. There is nothing better than playing a bad girl for two months, then playing someone sweet for the next two. Films give you this opportunity.

I put hibiscus flower in every cup of tea I have. It's sweet, sexy, and cleansing.

I prefer a kind of sweet, deep, rich prayer in which a person goes in and says, Take me down deep into the reason you gave me life. Take me down deep. It silences the chaos in me.

I remember taking great pride in making Brad Pitt laugh. I always had a soft spot for him. He's such a sweet, sweet man.

I relished the sweet sense of keeping a unique secret in my mind - a wonderful magical universe that I could go to any time, any place, and no one had to know. It was my personal place, better than any I've read about in any other book. And when I wrote, I was in the process of pulling that personal universe out of nothing and into the cold reality of the greater world.

I recall this passage as the hour of its first fully coming over me that she was a beautiful liberal creature. I had seen her personality in glimpses and gleams, like a song sung in snatches, but now it was before me in a large rosy glow, as if it had been a full volume of sound. I heard the whole of the air, and it was sweet fresh music, which I was often to hum over.(Sir Edmund Orme)

I remembered my days and nights of sunshine and starshine, where life was all a wild sweet wonder, a spiritual paradise of unselfish adventure and ethical romance. And I saw before me, ever blazing and burning, the Holy Grail.

I saw with open eyes, Singing birds sweet, Sold in the shops, For the people to eat, Sold in the shops of, Stupidity Street.

I sat down and tried to write a story. "Ian MacArthur is a wonderful sweet fellow who wears glasses and peers out of them with delight." That was the first sentence. The problem was that I just couldn't think of the next one. After cleaning my room three times, I decided to leave Ian alone for a while because I was starting to get mad at him.

I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me.

I see a schoolboy when I think of him, With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window.

I saw this girl, she looks so sweet, I wonder why, I'm so scared to meet. I think about her everyday, I wake, I sleep and hope and pray, For that one day She will come to me And I will say, You are the one I wish to stay

I sell dreams, small comforts, sweet harmless temptations to bring down a multitude of saints crashing among the hazels and nougatines

I seem to voice a lot of sweet, kind of dumb yellow characters for some reason.

I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, my morning incense, and my evening meal, the sweets of hasty pudding.

I shall be dark and French and fashionable and difficult. And you shall be sweet and open and English and fair. What a pair we shall be! What man can resist us?

Is it my sweat that's no longer sweet?

I spit honey out of my mouth: nothing is second-best after the sweet of Eros.

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

I started cutting my teeth on "Someone To Watch Over Me" [George Gershvin] in the college. I've sung that one for a while. There's something so simple and sweet about that lyric.

I suspect he's sweet on Sophie and doesn't like to see her work too hard.' Tessa was glad to hear it. She'd felt awful about her reaction to Sophie's scar, and the thought that Sophie had a male admirer - and a handsome one like that- eased her conscience slightly. 'Perhaps he's in love with Agatha', she said. 'I hope not. I intend to marry Agatha myself. She may be a thousand years old, but she makes an incomparable jam tart. Beauty fades, but cooking is eternal.

Is victory sweet because your side wins - or is it really because the other side loses?

I sweet potato what I sweet potato.

I survive by finding the sweet spot between reason and unreason, between the rational and irrational.