Honey Again Quotes & Sayings

Some men, when they do you a kindness, at once demand the payment of gratitude from you; others are more modest than this. However, they remember the favor, and look upon you as their debtor in a manner. A third sort shall scarce know what they have done. These are much like a vine, which is satisfied by being fruitful in its kind, and bears a bunch of grapes without expecting any thanks for it. A fleet horse or greyhound do not make a noise when they have done well, nor a bee neither when she has made a little honey. And thus a man that has done a kindness never proclaims it, but does another as soon as he can, just like a vine that bears again the next season. Now we should imitate those who are so obliging as hardly to reflect on their beneficence (v. 6). — Marcus Aurelius

You don't really want me on your team,' Lexie said. 'I'm totally terrible.'
'I know," Jake said. 'I want you on the other guy's team.'
Lexie swatted him with her free hand. "That is no way to talk with your girlfriend,' she said, forgetting for a moment that Bree was right there, intently watching them.
'You're right,' he said. 'My apologies, sugar plum. I'm sorry, honey pie. I'll never do it again, my little pumpkin. Is that better?'
She wrinkled her nose at him. ' feel so edible all of a sudden.'
'Cute enough to eat,' he said. — Tamara Summers

We stole a box of honey jars one time and went out in the woods and took care of the whole box. I don't think I touched honey again for 20 years. I never wanted to see honey again. — Quincy Jones

This scent had a freshness, but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates, not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles, not that of a May rain or a frosty wind or of well water ... and at the same time it had warmth, but not as bergamot, cypress, or musk has, or jasmine or daffodils, not as rosewood has or iris ... This scent was a blend of both, of evanescence and substance, not a blend, but a unity, although slight and frail as well, and yet solid and sustaining, like a piece of thin, shimmering silk ... and yet again not like silk, but like pastry soaked in honey-sweet milk - and try as he would he couldn't fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable, indescribable, could not be categorized in any way - it really ought not to exist at all. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. — Patrick Suskind

There's a lot of women out there, some of whom are my age who've never been married and some who have been married and would like to be married again but think their ship has sailed, and I'm like, 'Oh no, honey, let Miss Niecy show you it is never too late for love!' — Niecy Nash

When all is said and done, how do we not know but that our own unreason may be better than another's truth? for it has been warmed on our hearths and in our souls, and is ready for the wild bees of truth to hive in it, and make their sweet honey. Come into the world again, wild bees, wild bees! — W.B.Yeats

When I finally calmed down, I handed her the Ewok. "Can you go back and give it to him" I said. "Oh, honey," she answered. "That's so sweet of you. But Isabel can clean the Lego set. It'll be good as new for Auggie, don't worry." "No, for the other kid," I answered. She looked at me a second, like she didn't know what to say. "Via said he doesn't speak any English," I sai. "It must be really scary for him, being in the hospital." She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered. "It must be." She closed her eyes and hugged me again. And then she took me over to the security desk, where I waited until she went back up the elevator and, after about five minutes, came back down again. "Did he like it?" I asked. "Honeyboy," she said softly, brushing the hair out of my eyes. "You made his day. — R.J. Palacio

Oh boy, Christy's been reading steamy romances again, haven't you?" Holly said, frowning. "Honey, those aren't real. I wish they were, but they aren't. That kind of man doesn't exist. Take my word for it."

"Holly's right," Sophie said. "Reality is frostbite and vacuum-cleaner horror experiences, five-minute lays, unskilled fingers, and other rather unappealing appendages probing all over the place and frustrating the hell out of you. And nasty, expensive divorces, of course. — Elle Aycart

Can you kiss me again?" the whisper came like a plea laced with honey and need, and any desire to enjoy one thing at a time was lost in that second. "Come here baby boy and I'll kiss you forever, — Talon P.S.

I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That-" Lauren choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Nick replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Lauren clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may mrely be some frivolous, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Jim needs me."
"I need you,honey.I've been here since-"
"Don't you dare call me honey!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me honey again," Lauren promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Lauren had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked. — Judith McNaught

Allan was next up, and the bidding was going strong as he got into the fun of the auction, flexing his muscles and smiling brightly.
"Way to go, SEAL!" Lori and Rose shouted.
"Take off your shirt!" Emma shouted.
Catherine whooped and whistled. Paul had to smile at Emma and Catherine.
Lori's face reddened a bit, probably because her own grandma had shouted out the recommendation.
Allan began unbuttoning his shirt slowly and the crowd went wild.
Paul laughed. He hadn't thought that a honey-do bachelor auction would be anything like this. Then again, Emma was a wolf and they could change the dynamics of a situation in a heartbeat. The ranch hands made a big deal of jerking their shirts out of their waistbands and then starting to unbutton them.
A woman shouted, "Just the shirts, gentlemen."
And that had everyone laughing. — Terry Spear

But what was there to say?
Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.
Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much. — Arundhati Roy

Matilda had never once stopped to think about where Miss Honey might be living. She had always regarded her purely as a teacher, a person who turned up out of nowhere and taught at school and then went away again. Do any of us children, she wondered, ever stop to ask ourselves where our teachers go when school is over for the day? Do we wonder if they live alone, or if there is a mother at home or a sister or a husband? — Roald Dahl

Again let us dream where the land lies sunny And live, like the bees, on our hearts' old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money
Come, journey the way with me. — Madison Cawein

The gotta, as in: "I think I'll stay up another fifteen-twenty minutes, honey, I gotta see how this chapter comes out." Even though the guy who says it spent the day at work thinking about getting laid and knows the odds are good his wife is going to be asleep when he finally gets up to the bedroom. The gotta, as in: "I know I should be starting supper now - he'll be mad if it's TV dinners again - but I gotta see how this ends." I gotta know will she live. I gotta know will he catch the shitheel who killed his father. I gotta know if she finds out her best friend's screwing her husband. The gotta. Nasty as a hand-job in a sleazy bar, fine as a fuck from the world's most talented call-girl. Oh boy it was bad and oh boy it was good and oh boy in the end it didn't matter how rude it was or how crude it was because in the end it was just like the Jacksons said on that record - don't stop til you get enough. — Stephen King

Mel opened her jaw wide to stretch it out before she spoke again so that her words were very clear. "I am going to kill you. I'm going to drag your sorry carcass out into the desert, pour honey all over you, and let the fire ants eat you."
"You're angry," he said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Mel snapped. — Jenn McKinlay

Did you enjoy that?"

His eyes narrow and now he's frowning, like he's not entirely sure he understands the question. "Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn't it obvious?"

"Just answer the question."

"I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste," Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. "Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it. — Jessica Clare

Honey?" she asks. "Don't call me that," I snap. "What? Honey?" she asks. "Yes," I snap again. "What do you want me to call you?" she asks, indignantly. "CEO?" She stifles a giggle. "Oh Christ." "No, really Patrick. What do you want me to call you?" King, I'm thinking. — Bret Easton Ellis

Happiness is that butterfly which comes and sit in your garden until you try to grab it, The moment we try to grab it, it flies off, so never try to grab it, just let it go, because it will come back again for search of honey and to give you happiness again. — Debolina Bhawal

You know the truth, Miriam. God rewards those who serve him and cultivate his will. If anything goes wrong, and we die, he'll reward us by making sure we're never apart again. We'd be together forever, honey, forever ... — Matthew S. Williams

If I've got a Dad, and his name is Wormwood Rot, and he's in some heavy metal rock band called Grave Dirt ... then I'm definitely meeting him!
She stares at me awkwardly, and I'm about to ask again - maybe even insist - when she says, Honey, why do you think he's on the news? Wormwood, I mean ... your father? Becca, he's ... dead. — Rusty Fischer

It seems only fair," Matthew continued. "A bit of karma, if you will." He twirled the stake again. "Shall we see how long you scream?"
"Are you ever going to shut up?" I snapped, fear and irritation filling me in equal measures. "This isn't your monologue, Hamlet. It's the battle scene, in case you've forgotten."
His eyes narrowed so fast they nearly sparked. They were the color of honey on fire. One of the others growled like an animal, low in his throat. It made all the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
I was going to die for making fun of Shakespeare.
My English Lit professor would be so proud. — Alyxandra Harvey

But mostly I remember every morning before school. How she'd say "Hey, honey!" just I was walking out the apartment door. And me stopping and turning around and saying "What?" And her saying "I love you." And me rolling my eyes like I just wanted to hurry up so I didn't miss the bus. I'd start going again and she'd say "Hey, honey!" and I'd pretend I was so annoyed 'cause she was wasting time and I had to go catch the bus. And how secretly it was my favorite part of every day. — Matt De La Pena

She tried to offer Ella help but was shooed back into her seat between Magnus and Irini. She watched incredulously at the amount of food these males piled onto their plates. She hadn't touched her own plate yet, her eyes jumping from Lucien to Ryder, to Aidan, to Magnus, as they scoffed large amounts of beef down. Irini giggled beside her before elbowing her to get her to stop staring and start eating.
Ella laughed, obviously having noticed and understood the reason behind Caia's wide eyes. "Don't mind them, honey. They're just animals. You'll get used to them."
Ryder choked in amusement as he took swig of water, and Aidan and Magnus joined his laughter.
Lucien merely shrugged. "What?"
This set them off again.
"Dude, we've frightened Caia with our non-existent manners," Aidan explained smiling at her.
"No, no-" she tried to protest.
Lucien frowned. "We're just eating."
"Caia's not used to eating at the watering hole. — Samantha Young

Honey, what happened to your arm?" Rita frowned, reached over, and ran her fingers across the bruises. "Both of them!" she added, noticing the other arm. The sleeves of her cover-up had ridden up. Meridith pulled them down. "Oh. It's nothing. A guest caught me by surprise last night." "What? Did he attack you, Meridith?" "Sort of, but Jake came and, well, kind of punched him, and everything's fine now." "Jake . . . ?" "The contractor I told you about." "Oh, right. Thank God he was there! Did you call the police?" "No. Jake booted him and his friends from the house." "But are you okay? You must have been terrified!" Meridith nodded. "I was. I was so relieved when Jake showed up. It was late at night, and I was alone on the beach - won't do that again." She gave a dry laugh. "I'm just glad you're okay. This Jake guy seems like quite the hero." She'd only vocalized what Meridith had been thinking. "We're lucky to have him around. — Denise Hunter

That's what you're after? Establishing new case
precedence? Never going to happen. Not on this point. You
want to turn Dani. Assuming she's ever Dani again."
"Nobody's turning my fucking honey," Lor muttered
darkly.
"You took the Highlander, as your test case," Barrons
said.
Ryodan said nothing.
"Kas doesn't speak. X is half mad on a good day,
bugfuck crazy on a bad one. You're tired of it. You want your
family back. You want a full house, like the old days. — Karen Marie Moning

I didn't say, You are such a stuffy asshole. And he didn't say, If you ever burn one of my quarter-of-a-million dollar rugs again I'll take it out of your hide, and I didn't say, Oh, honey, wouldn't you like to? And he didn't say Grow up, Ms. Lane, I don't take little girls to my bed, and I didn't say I wouldn't go there if it was the only safe place from the Lord Master in all of Dublin. — Karen Marie Moning

Every time we think about being happy again, it hurts to be alive.
Because it seems an inordinate thing for us to wish for.
And because we think that day will never come for us.
And that's why the only thing we can do for now ...
... is just try to get through each night. — Chica Umino

I realized I had it made because you don't have to destroy anything to get honey. You can just use the same things over and over again, put it in a quart canning jar, and you've got $12. — Burt Shavitz

And It was said to me: "embrace the glorious mess you are". How easy it is to see darkness in the winter shedding and not see that even in its gloominess lies great beauty. That even in our great struggles - lies within a great victory. How then does the Spring green come about without the fertilisation of the Winter brown? Isn't it the very brown that gives way and life to the green we await to goggle in awe. There is power and sheer beauty in your mess. A true triumphing chaos that renders sweet melodic honey to your journey. So again it was whispered to me "embrace the glorious mess that you are — Malebo Sephodi

Dot hurled her pizza at her, smacking Hester in the cheek. Do you know how unfair that is, you contemptuous git! You made me gain weight in order to stay in the coven and now you're making fun of me for it? Are you that insecure that you needed me to be fat to feel okay about yourself? Well, you picked the wrong piggy tail to pull, honey. I love myself no matter what I look like, so nothing you say to me will ever make me feel ugly again. Because unlike you, Hester, I'll never be ugly inside. — Soman Chainani

Tink flew over, hovering next to me. "How was your day, honey?"
I smiled faintly as I dropped the bag into the seat then zipped it open. "Not the greatest."
He cocked his head to the side. "You want to tell Dr. Tink all about it?"
"Thought you didn't like to be called Tink."
"Don't question my inconsistencies."
I laughed again. "I don't really want to talk about it." I pulled out the box of candies. "But I have pralines. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I won't block you again, honey. — Kristen Ashley

I love you. Been wantin' to say it to you again. But this is better."
"What?"
"Showin' you that I love you. Every inch of you. Because I know every inch of this beautiful body. I know where to touch you to make you sigh. To make you moan. To make you cry out. This body knows me. It knows my intent every time I'm naked with you. But today I want your heart to know my intent. Because, baby, I want to prove to you that if you give it over to me as easily as you do your body, I'll cherish it. — Lorelei James

O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells; The swallow from her distant clime, The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the sun; The gilded evenings, calm and late, When merry children homeward run, And peeping stars bid lovers wait. Bring back the singing; and the scent Of meadowlands at dewy prime;- Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summertime! — William Allingham

Sydney: "You can be Jet if you want, but we are not posing as a couple again"
Adrian: "Are you sure? Because I've got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding."
Sydney: "Why are they all high-calorie foods? And bread pudding isn't really that romantic."
Adrian: "Do you want me to call you celery stick instead? It just doesn't inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings." - The Indigo Spell — Richelle Mead

As soon as I saw that doll all splotched with mud, I saw myself, saw how soiled I was. Or thought I was. From that minute on, I felt liked I'd slipped through a hole in God's pocket. Just took a dive right into the dirt and was lost forever."
Greg kissed Faron's hair. "You never hit the dirt. You just slid from one pocket to another. That's what I did too - I took a journey I was meant to take. I know that now."
Absorbing this, Faron slanted a puzzled look at Greg. "Which pocket do you suppose I landed in?"
"This one. The one we're in together. The one I believe we'll stay in."
Faron felt a thrill of optimism in his heart. "I never thought of it that way."
"I never did either. Until today." Greg once again settled onto Faron's chest. His cheek moved noticeable into a smile. "God isn't small, honey. God has a lot of freakin' pockets. And we just found the one we belong in. — K.Z. Snow

If you think," he began, "that being sober and working steadily broke my bullshit meter, now you know better. I knew you were nailing Cross again from the moment you started back up."
Biting into my taco, I shot him a skeptical look.
"Eva honey, don't you think that if there were another man in New York who could bang it out all night like Cross, I would've found him by now? — Sylvia Day

He grinned. "Do not fear. I am here to serve you, as I promised."
Despite the fit of schoolgirl giggles that had seized her in Carbonek when he first proposed to be her knight, his assurance annoyed her now. "You inspire me with confidence," she said, honey-sweet. "With a few more years and experience, you would make a capable guardian, I'm sure."
"And you an amiable ward," he said, bowing again. — Suzannah Rowntree

I nudge my husband. "Honey, do you love me?" I ask. "Mmm-um" he replies. "Rowrrr? Mrreow?" says the cat. I nudge him again. "If you really loved me you'd get up and do something about the cat." He snorts air and pulls the covers tighter. "Uh-um. Didn' work lass night. Couldn't catch 'er." He begins to snore. That's the signal the cat has been waiting for. "MROW!" she shrieks joyfully. I carefully pry my husband off the ceiling. — Dena Harris

Listen to me you piece of shit, if you ever give the press information about me, my parents or even breathe a word about me to anyone ever again, I swear to god I will make it my mission to make your life a living hell. And, believe me I'll do it with a smile on my face the whole time. You're a worthless excuse for a Detective and everyone here knows it. You've screwed your way to the top and backstabbed Gena to get into your Captain's good books. Well look around you honey, you're a real star. No one stopped Gena or me taking you on. I've currently got you in a hold, where I could snap your neck if I wanted to, and not one person is stepping forward to help you. Yeah, you've really made it. - Stephanie Carovella to Sandra Barton — Nina D'Angelo

Then he kissed her again. And kissed her and kissed her, until her heartbeat was a song and her veins pulsed with honey and fire, and his arms were around her and he was not letting go. He new what she was and he was not letting go.
She had never understood, until now, what it would be like to kiss somebody who was not trying to use or master her. Who cleanly and simply /delighted/ in her. — Rosamund Hodge

Again, speaking for the sisterhood, if you gave all that devotion and loyalty to a woman and she was a good woman, I swear, honey, you will live every day for the rest of your life until your dying breath never regretting it. — Kristen Ashley

Sent. Think you can mess with me? Think again, honey. Student, meet teacher. — Max Monroe

who wants to make it grand or fortify it for the coitus, must rub it before copulation with tepid water, until it gets red and extended by the blood flowing into it, in consequence of the heat; he must then anoint it with a mixture of honey and ginger, rubbing it in sedulously. Then let him join the woman; he will procure for her such pleasure that she objects to him getting off her again. — Nigel Cliff

Ox Cart Man

In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.

He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hoped by hand at the forge's fire.

He walks by his ox's head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,

and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again. — Donald Hall

my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell

I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love. — Gwendolyn Brooks

Maybe I can convince you to kiss me again. I'm right here, honey. Come get me. — Sarina Bowen

But this time as soon as he moved she began to fade. He stopped at once, not breathing again, motionless, willing his eyes to see that she had stopped too. But she had not stopped. She was fading, going. "Wait," he said, talking as sweet as he had ever heard his voice speak to a woman: "Den lemme go wid you, honey." But she was going. — William Faulkner

His hand grazed her inner thigh as he shifted the manual transmission into reverse, and this lightest of touches sent a shiver through Devin. "Cold?" he asked, backing the pickup away from the trees to turn around. "You can turn on the heat if you'd like."

Devin shook her head. "I'm fine," she said in a quiet, breathy voice that she couldn't quite control.

The tone caught Ronin's attention, and he gave her a long look before shifting back into first gear. Again, his fingertips grazed her soft skin, and her breath caught again.

Ronin's eyes fell shut for a moment. "Damn, honey," he whispered. — Sibylla Matilde

A smile bloomed again in his eyes. "I love that you let me bring out that softness in you. You've always been such a tough little trooper, but under that snappy, tough act you put on, you're butter-soft. Sweet as honey. And I can get there! Make that softness come up. I'm so ... honored by it — Ramona Wray

Do the bees know they make the honey for you? Or do they work tirelessly because they think it is their own choice? Have you never noticed that, after hearing a new word for the first time in your life, you'll hear it again within twenty-four hours? Do you ever wonder why sometimes you'll see a single shoe lying along the road? — David Wong

out-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm. "It is the white bees that are swarming," said Kay's old grandmother. "Do the white bees choose a queen?" asked the little boy; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one. "Yes," said the grandmother, "she flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers. — Hans Christian Andersen

Ran into him? Are you not together?"

Cassie shook her head. "No."
Gage contradicted her by saying, "We are. We're getting married."

Cassie leaned into him and hissed. "Would you stop telling people that." She turned back to Sam and gave her a smile. "We're not getting married."

Gage used Cassie's hair to tip her head back again. He leaned over, giving her another kiss before saying, "Sunshine, we are."

Cassie yanked her hair out of his fist and took a step away from him. "Honey limpkins," she said, sarcastically, "we are not. — Sarah Curtis

9/11/01
Gina:
Especially today, with the enormity of current events, I want to convey to you again, how much you mean to me and how proud I am to be your husband. The hard work that you are engaged in right now is exhausting, invisible and largely thankless in the short term.
But honey, please know that buried at the core of this tedium is the most noble and important work in the world- God's work; the fruits of which you and I will be lucky enough to enjoy as we grow old together. Watching these little guys grow into men is a privilege that I am proud to share with you, and the perfect fulfillment of our marriage bonds.
You are a great mom.
You are a great wife.
You are my best friend.
You are very pretty.
Happy Birthday.

-Matt — Michael Spehn

You mean you live down here?' Matilda asked.
'I do', Miss Honey replied, but she said no more.
Matilda had never once stopped to think about where Miss Honey might be living. She had always regarded her purely as a teacher, a person who turned up out of nowhere and taught at school and then went away again. — Roald Dahl

It was true. Sugar did treat her bees like next of kin but then again, they were.
Along with her manners, the accent she tried so hard to soften, a single china cup covered in blue daisies and a weathered box of essential oils, they were all she carried with her from her past. Her bees relied on her for shelter and food but she relied on them too. She made her living from their honey, not just the healthful liquid itself but from the salves and gels and tinctures and remedies she created and sold at farm stands or farmers' markets wherever she lived.
It was the most symbiotic of relationships. — Sarah-Kate Lynch

It takes a strong woman to lose everything, then stand naked in front of the mirror and face herself again. You need time, honey. And I don't mean time for it to go away. I mean time to learn how to live with it. This is a pain you'll always carry. — Sarah Ockler

Me?" said Bragg. "I'm not alive. Revived, from time to time - maybe. but not alive."
Liar."
Try me."
You forget, Mister Bragg - Stu honey - Stuart darling - Bragg baby. I already have."
They had almost reached their destination.
Col said: "I don't have burn marks for nothing, my dear. I don't have these scars by chance. I'm covered with your fingerprints. Covered from head to toe and back again on the other side."
You sound just like Minna," said Bragg.
I know," Col said. "I know I do. I've been practising. — Timothy Findley

Edgar never used the rhythm to do violence again. But when he got on stage, when he rapped and let the words flow from his tongue like warmed honey, he could feel it. It would be there when he needed it. So far, he hadn't needed it. — Nnedi Okorafor

Honey, you hurt him and men don't take that well. They shove their emotions deep inside where you can't hurt them again. In many ways they're a lot like women, though they'd deny that. — Jaci Burton

He collected my hand to pull my finger out of his mouth. "Peanuts." I laughed, breaking the shock I'd felt. "Bad?" "No," he said, and he popped my finger into his mouth again. "I like it. Peanut tastes like peanuts." "So I have to call you Honey, now?" "Yup," he said, chewing. — C.L.Stone

Kate opens a jar of honey and pours a thick line of the sticky stuff over the top edge of the wound. Setting the jar back on the counter, she picks up the first strip of cloth and gently wraps it around his arm. As she works, she can feel his eyes on her, watching her silently. She stands close, and his injured arm is outstretched just enough for his hand to be hanging in the air beside her waist. When she tugs on the bandage to make the first knot, his hand is pulled to her, lightly brushing the side of her body with the tips of his fingers. When she tugs again, he presses his hand to her waist, and she feels the subtle constriction of his fingertips. — Kari Aguila

My wings," the faerie whispered.
"You'll get them back."
The Faerie struggled to open his eyes. "You swear?"
"Yes," I breathed. The faerie managed a slight smile and closed his eyes again. My mouth trembled. I wished for something else to say, something more to offer him than my empty promises. The first false vow I'd ever sworn. But Tamlin began speaking, and I glanced up to see him take the faerie's other hand.
"Cauldron save you," he said, reciting the words of a prayer that was probably older than the moral realm. "Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain." Tamlin's voice wavered, but he finished. "Go, and enter eternity. — Sarah J. Maas

What's your name, honey?" Frank asked her. "Beth Riley," she said. She could hear footsteps overhead as the agents stomped around her parents' bedroom upstairs. "What's your real name?" he asked. Her skin prickled. "Beth Riley," she said again. — Chelsea Cain

I now had the pleasure of her company 24/7.
Joy.
Kit broke the awkward silence. "This looks delicious, honey. You've done it again." Grinning, he raised his fork in a mock salute.
My dad, the dork.
I suppressed a sigh. If this silly, white-gloved dingbat made my father happy - and I knew she did - it was my solemn duty as his progeny to suffer it. — Kathy Reichs

-What's so funny?"
"-Sorry," David said, reddening again. "You just taste so sweet."
"-What do you mean, sweet?"
He licked his bottom lip one more time.
"-You taste like honey."
"-Honey?"
"-Yeah, I thought I was going nuts the day ... well, you know, that one day. But it was the same today. Your mouth is really sweet."
He paused for a second, then grinned.
"-Hot like honey-like nectar. That makes more sense."
"-Great. Now I'm going to have to explain that to everyone I kiss for the rest of my life unless it's you or another faerie."
She'd almost said Tamani's name. Her fingers flew to the ring around her neck.
David shrugged.
"-Then don't kiss anyone except me."
"-David ... "
"-I'm just offering up the obvious solution," he said, hands up in protest. — Aprilynne Pike

I'm standing by the cereal, reaching for a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, when I feel my chest clenching but not unclenching. It clenches tighter and tighter, like someone has wrapped a corset around it. My palms are wet. My head is compressing, growing and shrinking at the same time. I can hear my breathing, and it's so amplified that, to my own ears, I sound like Darth Vader. A woman at the end of the aisle is frozen as she watches me. She looks scared...My breathing is getting louder, and I cover my ears to block it out. And that's when the ceiling starts to spin and the air disappears and my lungs won't stop working and I can't breathe at all. I drop everything and run away from the cart and all that food until I'm out the door. I stand in the parking lot, bent over at the waist, breathing in the fresh night air, and then I lie flat on the ground, as if this will open my lungs wider and make them work again, only the breath won't come. — Jennifer Niven

I'm not proud of the lies I tell my children. Some are truly selfish and for the wrong reason. "Honey, you wouldn't want a bite of Daddy's cheeseburger. It's spicy." I don't feel guilty when I deny eating my kids' after-school snacks. I feel guilty telling them that their mom did. Of course, no parent sets out to lie to his or her children. I never did. Then again, I never thought I would let my three-year-old watch TV or chew tobacco. — Jim Gaffigan

Hurray', shouted Glokta. 'Porridge again!'He looked over at the motionless Practical. 'Porridge and honey, better than money, everything's funny, with porridge and honey! — Joe Abercrombie

His finger poked at the top of my sports bra. "Honey tits?" I burst out laughing.
"What did I tell you?"
"Sorry. Is honey melons any better?"
"No." I shook my head.
"Nectar juice boxes."
"Stop."
"Sugar suckies."
"You're feeling better, huh?"
"I will." He stabbed at the hidden packages again, his eyebrow lifting. — Stacey Marie Brown

Half by desipience, half by proclivity, he had come to live in a world where the only significant leisure activities were coupling and consuming. His batrachian lips pursed into a smile, and he dug again into the honey. — John Fowles

Max, honey, do that again and I promise you won't get any cupcakes for a year." I gasp. She wouldn't! But the look on her face says she would. I sink back into my chair. "Holy shit, you're mean when you're breeding. — Belle Aurora

We are continually overflowing toward those who preceded us, toward our origin, and toward those who seemingly come after us ... It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again "invisibly," inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible. — Rainer Maria Rilke