Sweet Clover Quotes & Sayings

As if you could outrun me... — Stephenie Meyer

What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells. — John Greenleaf Whittier

You're walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, 'Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?' So you and the bear spend the whole day in each other's arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh? — Haruki Murakami

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom. — L.M. Montgomery

I really like you, Midori. A lot."
"How much is a lot?"
"Like a spring bear," I said.
"A spring bear?" Midori looked up again. "What's that all about? A spring bear."
"You're walking through a field all by yourself one day in spring, and this sweet little bear cub with velvet fur and shiny little eyes comes walking along. And he says to you, "Hi, there, little lady. Want to tumble with me?' So you and the bear cub spend the whole day in each other's arms, tumbling down this clover-covered hill. Nice, huh?"
"Yeah. Really nice."
"That's how much I like you. — Haruki Murakami

In New Mexico, he always awoke a young man, not until he arose and began to shave did he realize that he was growing older. His first consciousness was a sense of the light dry wind blowing in through the windows, with the fragrance of hot sun and sage-brush and sweet clover; a wind that made one's body feel light and one's heart cry 'To-day, to-day,' like a child's. — Willa Cather

Sometimes I think depression must be like a dance in your head and anything can trigger it, if you know that dance. — Rachel Joyce

Millions of Germans had absolute faith in Hitler. Millions of Russians had faith in Stalin. Millions of Chinese had faith in Mao. Billions have had faith in imaginary gods. — Steve Allen

Everywhere the grain stood ripe and the hot afternoon was full of the smell of the ripe wheat, like the smell of bread baking in an oven. The breath of the wheat and the sweet clover passed him like pleasant things in a dream. — Willa Cather

This investigation felt difficult, like driving in fog. — Sara Sheridan

This is what we call a shamrock. It has three leaves. Do you know what it represents?"
"Luck? Amelia answered.
Lee smiled. "That's what everyone says."
Rick shrugged. "Well, I know it's Ireland's emblem."
Lee shook his head and said earnestly, "It's much more than that. It represents our religion ... who we are. When St. Patrick was trying to teach Christianity here in Ireland, he used this shamrock as an example." Lee pointed to each leaf and said, "This is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ... "
Rick still held the clover in his hand. He looked at it and twirled it between his fingers as he said, "I'm calling this the Shamrock Case from now on. I love what it represents. — Linda Weaver Clarke

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace. — John Greenleaf Whittier

To a lesser extent (they like) the whites and reds, but blues, yellows and oranges are the main bee flowers. Although there are very good white bee flowers - white sweet clover is the best honey plant in the world. — Chip Taylor

Crowds of bees are giddy with clover
Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,
Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,
Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. — Jean Ingelow

Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell; Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven
the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox

He smelled the odor of the pine boughs under him, the piney smell of the crushed needles and the sharper odor of the resinous sap from the cut limbs ... This is the smell I love. This and fresh-cut clover, the crushed sage as you ride after cattle, wood-smoke and the burning leaves of autumn. That must be the odor of nostalgia, the smell of the smoke from the piles of raked leaves burning in the streets in the fall in Missoula. Which would you rather smell? Sweet grass the Indians used in their baskets? Smoked leather? The odor of the ground in the spring after rain? The smell of the sea as you walk through the gorse on a headland in Galicia? Or the wind from the land as you come in toward Cuba in the dark? That was the odor of cactus flowers, mimosa and the sea-grape shrubs. Or would you rather smell frying bacon in the morning when you are hungry? Or coffee in the morning? Or a Jonathan apple as you bit into it? Or a cider mill in the grinding, or bread fresh from the oven? — Ernest Hemingway,

Of course great politicians are always liable to be wrong about something, and the more people tell them they are wrong, the more stubbornly they defend their error. — Ferdinand Mount

In some ways. it began when I heard her singing. Her voice twinning, mixing with my own. Her voice was like a portrait of her soul; wild as a fire, sharp as shattered glass, sweet and clean as clover — Patrick Rothfuss

What?" he whispered.
"Nothing."
Cooper stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest, pulling me to him. "You work at that job. You never miss school. You deserve a little fun and we're going to have fun. Soon, my pop will grill and you'll pig out and I'll lick barbeque sauce off your lips. Then, I'll take you home, safe and sound. Do you understand?"
I nodded again, but Cooper sighed. "Why do you look ready to cry?"
"I'm nervous."
"Don't be. My family's a mess. We're sloppy. We eat too much. Talk too loud. Fart constantly. Next to us, you're a princess. — Bijou Hunter

I'd loved books in my regular, pre-PCT life, but on the trail, they'd taken on even greater meaning. They were the world I could lose myself in when the one I was actually in became too lonely or harsh or difficult to bear. When — Cheryl Strayed

Today While the blossoms still cling to the vine I'll taste your strawberries I'll drink your sweet wine A million tomorrows shall all pass away Here I forget all the joy that is mine. Today I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover You know who I am by the songs that I sing I'll feast at your table I'll sleep in your clover Who cares what tomorrow shall bring I can't be contented with yesterday's glory I can't live on promises winter to spring Today is my moment and now is my story I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing — John Denver

And when the rains were over and it was October and the birds were in song again, I could lie in the sun on sweet-smelling grass and gaze up through a pattern of oak leaves into a blind-blue heaven. And I would thank my God for leaves and grass and the smell of things, the smell of mint and myrtle and bruised clover, and the touch of things, the touch of grass and air and sky, the touch of the sky's blueness. — Ruskin Bond

You can be as sharp-tongued as a viper, but you can also be as sweet as wild clover honey. — Raymond E. Feist