Too Sweet Quotes & Sayings

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. — Rick Riordan

Hey, Sam. Want to join me in the river? We can bathe before the sun sets and it gets too cold."
"Sweet molasses."
"What?"
"Stay back, foul temptress!"
"What?"
"Er. Not you. Uh. I ... sensed the presence of a succubus. Like, near here. Ooooh. So very near."
"You can do that?"
"Yes. Yes I can. Because I have magic. And my succubus-tracking abilities. It's a thing. A real
thing. That I do all the time."
"Riiiight. Your magical succubus-tracking abilities."
"Shut up, Gary! — T.J. Klune

I have been reading three books Dean lent me this week. One was like a rose garden
very pleasant, but just a little too sweet. And one was like a pine wood on a mountain
full of balsam and tang
I loved it, and yet it filled me with a sort of despair. It was written so beautifully
I can never write like that, I feel sure. And one
it was just like a pig-sty. Dean gave me that one by mistake. — L.M. Montgomery

Wearing only his boxers, Marz sat on the edge of the bed and removed his limb. And then he shifted under the covers with her. "Now," he said, "Does hiding under the covers involve covering the head, too?" Or just the body?
Such a sweet, cute mane. "Just the body. Covering the head makes it a fort."
His eyes went wide. "Is that so? Duly noted. — Laura Kaye

It looked like a colour, but also ... like a bruise or a secretion, like an oozing-and something else, an odour, for example, it melted into the odour of wet earth, warm, moist wood, into a black odour that spread like varnish over this sensitive wood, in a flavour of chewed, sweet fibre. I did not simply see this black: sight is an abstract invention, a simplified idea, one of man's ideas. That black, amorphous, weakly presence, far surpassed sight, smell and taste. But this richness was lost in confusion and finally was no more because it was too much. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Life is a gift that must be given back and joy should arise from its possession. It's too damn short and that's a fact. Hard to accept this earthly procession to final darkness is a journey done, circle completed, work of art sublime, a sweet melodic rhyme. A battle won. — Dean Koontz

Sometimes a man gets carried away when he feels like he should be having his fun and much too blind to see the damage he's done, oh sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one. So I'll wait for you and I'll burn will I ever see your sweet return, oh will I ever learn? Oh, Lover you should've come over. Oh love well I'm waiting for you. — Jeff Buckley

Bridget -
I like my tea like I like my men. Strong, sweet and dark.

Joan -
I like my tea like I like my men too. Still warm. — Bridget Golightly

Too late to point out that he would be better off with someone smart and sweet and - okay - awkward than with Chelsea. Someone who could make him laugh. Someone like, oh, I dunno, me! — Marni Bates

It was too sweet a moment to ruin by speaking mere words. Happiness was the bright blue moon, beaming amidst the bright stars of smiles that enveloped their countenances. — Sonali Dabade

My feelings for her were veering too quickly from bitter to sweet. — Gillian Flynn

Pansy rolled over and went to sleep, but Petunia stayed awake long after Olga left, and long after Oliver crawled out from under the bed, grabbed some sandwiches, and slipped out the door. She hoped that he was going to Galen and Rose's room, and she hoped, too that he hadn't known she was awake when he had leaned over and kissed her hair. She wanted to savor that touch forever. — Jessica Day George

O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial — William Shakespeare

He kissed her soundly, stealing her breath, before saying, "Tell me what you want, my lovely."
"I-" She stopped, too many words coming at once. 'I want you to touch me. I want you to love me. I want you to show me the life that I have been missing.' She shook her head, uncertain.
He smiled, pressing firmly with his hand against her, watching the wave of pleasure course through her. "Incredible," he whispered against the side of her neck. "So responsive. Go on..."
"I want-" She sighed as he set his lips to the hardened peak of one breast again. "I want... I want you," she said, and, in that moment, the words, so utterly simple in the face of the roiling emotions that coursed through her, seemed enough.
He moved his fingers firmly, deftly against her, and she gasped. "Do you want me here, Empress?"
She closed her eyes in embarrassment, biting her lower lip.
"Are you aching for me here?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Poor, sweet love. — Sarah MacLean

I saw how Jesus didn't treat women any differently than men, and I liked that. We weren't too precious for words, dainty like fine china. We received no free pass or delicate worries about our ability to understand or contribute or work. Women were not too sweet or weak for the conviction of the Holy Spirit, or too manipulative and prone to jealousy, insecurity, and deception to push back the kingdom of darkness. — Sarah Bessey

People need people and the happiest people are
surrounded with friendly flesh.
If you have ten kids they'll be so sweet
ten really sweet kids! Have twelve!
What if there were 48 pro baseball teams,
you could see a damn lot more games!
And in this fashion we get away
from tragedy. Because tragedy comes when someone
gets too special. — Mark Halliday

I'm not fucking you, not until you tell me the truth about Uram.'
Something dark crawled across his face. 'Sexual blackmail, Elena?'
She snorted. 'You treat me like a pet. Go fetch the bad archangel/vampire/whatever the fuck he is, Ellie, but don't you dare ask me why. It'd be too much for your little human head.' Dropping the saccharine-sweet tone, she glared. 'I don't sleep with men who think I'm a brainless twit. — Nalini Singh

It may also be that, quite apart from any specific references one food makes to another, it is the very allusiveness of cooked food that appeals to us, as indeed that same quality does in poetry or music or art. We gravitate towards complexity and metaphor, it seems, and putting fire to meat or fermenting fruit and grain, gives us both: more sheer sensory information and, specifically, sensory information that, like metaphor, points away from the here and now. This sensory metaphor - this stands for that - is one of the most important transformations of nature wrought by cooking. And so a piece of crisped pig skin becomes a densely allusive poem of flavors: coffee and chocolate, smoke and Scotch and overripe fruit and, too, the sweet-salty-woodsy taste of maple syrup on bacon I loved as a child. As with so many other things, we humans seem to like our food overdetermined. — Michael Pollan

I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army ... — George R R Martin

Though dreams can be deceiving; like faces are to hearts, they serve for sweet relieving, when fantasy and reality lie too far apart. — Fiona Apple

She smiled. "You're very sweet." "Now you go too far - " She shoved her hand under his nose. "This is your ring you see, my lord, and that gives me the right to tell you to be quiet. So, be quiet. I'll probably be back to thinking you're a jerk tomorrow, so live with the compliment while it's still in force. Got it?" He grumbled something she didn't catch. But then, to her utter surprise, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it in a rough, Richardy kind of way. Then he dropped it as if it had been a hot potato, set her on her feet, then leaned his head back against the chair and pretended to snore. Jessica went to bed with a smile on her face. — Lynn Kurland

I'm always trying to get to a danger point in color, where color either becomes too sweet or it becomes too harsh, it becomes too noisy or too quiet, and at that point I still want the picture to be strong, forceful, and the carrier of everything that a painting has to have: contrast, drama, austerity. — Wolf Kahn

He had always wanted Daisy, with an intensity that seemed to radiate from the pores of his skin. She was sweet, kind, inventive, excessively reasonable yet absurdly romantic, her dark sparkling eyes filled with dreams. She had occasional moments of clumsiness when her mind was too occupied with her thoughts to focus on what she was doing. She was often late to supper because she had gotten too involved in her reading. She frequently lost thimbles and slippers and pencil stubs. And she loved to stargaze. The never-forgotten sight of Daisy leaning wistfully on a balcony railing one night, her pert profile lifted to the night sky, had charged Matthew with the most blistering desire to stride over to her and kiss her senseless. — Lisa Kleypas

Between the trees, on gentle and too cleverly irregular slopes of sweet green grass, the bright umbrellas shaded the hotel's guests from the unfaltering radiance of the Lado-Acheson sun. — William Gibson

The Pi Betas had accepted the fact that Rose was Mexican, but it was obvious they would just as soon ignore it. And they seemed to assume Rose wanted to do that, too. The other girls might not be overtly disturbed by the fact that Rose was a chicana, but they certainly were not going to encourage her to explore her heritage. No, if Rose joined the Pi Betas, she would have to deny the biggest part of herself. She would have to become completely American. — Francine Pascal

Today's Valentine's Day. There's a whole day devoted solely to love. Does that make any sense? Nah. Love makes us all crazy. But it's fun too. — Lisa Greenwald

Sweet it was, sweet and gone too soon. Dawn came cruel, a dagger of light. — George R R Martin

I let the beast in too soon I don't know how to live without his hand on my throat. I fight him always and still. Oh, darling it's so sweet. You think you know how crazy, how crazy I am. — Fiona Apple

He turned his head to look at her, trying to think of ways to plead his case. Some way to dazzle and beguile her and make her glad that it was him she was here with. Something witty and persuasive, but she turned at precisely the same moment he did, with invitation in her eyes, and all he could come up with was, "Damn, I really want to kiss you."

Her hesitation was a mere fraction of a second. "Me too," she whispered.

It was all he needed to hear, and in an instant she was in his arms. He kissed her, hard, with no prelude, no artful negotiations or seductive machinations. Just hungry kisses that sent his mind spinning and his body following. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, with one hand on his chest and the other wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth was sweet, as sweet as he'd imagined, with lips so soft he could have fallen over the edge of that lighthouse and thought the sensation was just from her touch. — Tracy Brogan

Towles burn. Bathroom inferno! Chanel No. 5, it burns. Oil paintings of racehorses and dead pheasants burn. The reproduction Oriental carpets burn. Evie's bad dried flower arrangements, they're these little tabletop infernos. Too cute! Evie's Katty Kathy doll, it melts, then it burns. Evie's collection of big carnival stuffed animals - Cootie, Poochie, Pam-Pam, Mr. Bunnits, Choochie, Poo Poo and Ringer - it's fun-fur holocaust. Too sweet. Too precious. — Chuck Palahniuk

As they passed the giant saguaro cacti, Amelia knew they were getting close to home. They were magnificent, standing like humungous pitchforks in the middle of the desert. To her, it represented the American West...
Amelia noticed Sam in the distance. He seemed intrigued by the Teddy Bear Chollas. Sam was not originally from Arizona, so he seemed enchanted by the fuzzy little cactus.
As he reached toward it, Amelia yelled, "Stop! No! Don't touch that, Sam!"
But it was too late. The little razor sharp needles seemed to jump toward his finger... — Linda Weaver Clarke

Confined to common life thy numbers flow,
And neither soar too high nor sink too low;
There strength and ease in graceful union meet,
Though polished, subtle, and though poignant, sweet;
Yet powerful to abash the from of crime
And crimson error's cheek with sportive rhyme.
[Lat., Verba togae sequeris, junctura callidus acri,
Ore teres modico, pallentes radere mores
Doctus, et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo.] — Aulus Persius Flaccus

Abbott says, 'Biggest ... difference ... between ... people ... is ... quality ... of ... attention.' And since a person's quality of attention is one of the few things about her that a human can control, then she better damn well do it, say I. Put that together with the Golden Rule in a nutshell, and you've got my philosophy of life. Abbott's too. And you don't need religion for that. — Russell Banks

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Jaime returned with cold courtesy. "I might ask the same of you, my lady." "Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen." "My sister will be surprised to hear that." "Lord Ryman crowned me his very self." She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores." No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too. Ser — George R R Martin

Noah?
A welcome voice - not my mother's, but welcome all the same: Echo. A smile spread across my face. This was too good. Me in a towel, alone in the house with my nymph. I left the bathroom. — Katie McGarry

What he does not yet understand is that whatever makes a woman strong is the reason that certain men will love her, even if behind her strengths there hide great weaknesses. This he will learn from You. He will learn that You are bubbly, funny, and sweet only because You have all Your weaknesses. But by then it will be too late. — Francoise Sagan

People have all these preconceptions about me. Whereas if you look at the roles, Henry Hill was the nicest guy in 'Goodfellas!' I was a nice guy too in the comedy 'Heartbreakers.' And I was a really sweet father to Johnny Depp in 'Blow!' — Ray Liotta

Ah! what is love! It is a pretty thing, As sweet unto a shepherd as a king, And sweeter too; For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, And cares can make the sweetest love to frown. — Robert Greene

I love you, Alexa. I want you and I want our baby. I want this ridiculous hound dog because I've grown to love him, too. I also figured out what I don't want. I don't want to live my life without you. I don't want to be alone anymore. And I don't want to believe I deserve not to have you. And I swear to God, I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. - Nicholas Ryan — Jennifer Probst

Gavin stood within the trees, observing her from the shadows. He watched the basket rise to her nose as she closed her eyes to sniff at its contents. A smile told him it smelled delicious, but she didn't open the container to pinch off a sample. Instead, the basket lowered to swing at her side as it had previously done.

All at once the air was filled with soft singing--a sweet, merry tune comprised of ludicrous lyrics. It was impossible not to grin at the words.

"Rainbows paint the sky 'til the sun melts their colors.
Swinging in the wind, whiskered cattails purr.
The pigs gallop by and snort at the moon,
While frogs kiss the lizards and princesses too." — Richelle E. Goodrich

Then God's a bigger poofter than Sweet Willie. "You might be right" said Justine. "He certainly isn't too fond of women, anyway. Second-class, that's us, way back in the Upper Circle. Front Stalls and the Mezzanine, strictly male. — Colleen McCullough

The young May moon is beaming, love.
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love.
How sweet to rove,
Through Morna's grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear,
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear,
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! — Thomas Moore

O, may you look, full moon that shines, On my pain for this last time: So many midnights from my desk, I have seen you, keeping watch: When over my books and paper, [390] Saddest friend, you appear! Ah! If on the mountain height I might stand in your sweet light, Float with spirits in mountain caves, Swim the meadows in twilight' waves, [395] Free from the smoke of knowledge too, Bathe in your health-giving dew! — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

A gray V-neck T-shirt hugged his wide shoulders and broad chest, then hung loose over his tight abdomen. a pair of worn Levi's lovingly cupped his generous package, embraced long legs, and broke across the tops of well-worn cowboy boots. Jackson had the type of physique that made a woman's girl parts tingle. She'd have to be dead not to include herself in that party. Especially since her girl parts had been told "No" way too many time sin recent years. — Candis Terry

Nellie grinned. "I always wanted to go to Venice. It's supposed to be the romance capital of the world."
"Sweet," put in Dan. "Too bad your date is an Egyptian Mau on a hunger strike."
The au pair sighed. "Better than an eleven-year-old with a big mouth. — Gordon Korman

We can't stop staring at each other. Saying nothing, nothing to say. I trace the curve of his jaw and throat, the sweet spot below his ear, with only my eyes, because he's too faraway to touch. We stare and we stare and I can't stop myself from smiling, because he's smiling, too. We don't have to speak to have this conversation; in fact, the only way to have it is by not using words. — Megan Hart

Wen thectaste of my own medicine is given to me results into silent treatment,its not bitter therefore i enjoy the medicine i gave you too. — Mohlalefi J Motsima

...bravo...' Mister Kindly said,'..if only I had hands to applaud..'
Mia smacked her backside. 'I'd settle for lips to kiss my sweet behind.
'...I would have to find it first...'
Arses are like fine wine, Mister Kindly. Better too little than too much.
' ...a beauty and a philosopher. be still my beating heart...' The not-cat looked down at its translucent chest '...O,wait... — Jay Kristoff

Alex leaned over and treated me to a Rhett Butler kiss, slow and deep but not too sweet. He once told Scarlett something to the effect of how badly she needed kissing, and by someone who knew what he was doing. Alex knew what he was doing. By the time he finished proving it, I was breathless. I rested my head on his shoulder, basking in his warmth and filling my lungs with his scent. "What was that for?"
"That was to show you how glad I am that we got out of that mess in one piece and that we're here together." He extracted his arm from around my shoulders and sat back. "Now let's talk about your crazy stunt."
Damn it, Rhett did that, too. He'd kiss Scarlett silly, then lecture her. — Suzanne Johnson

A little child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,
A fairy thing with red round cheeks,
That always finds, and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father's eyes with light ;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.
Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together
Thoughts so all unlike each other ;
To mutter and mock a broken charm,
To dally with wrong that does no harm.
Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty
At each wild word to feel within
A sweet recoil of love and pity.
And what, if in a world of sin
(O sorrow and shame should this be true !)
Such giddiness of heart and brain
Comes seldom save from rage and pain,
So talks as it's most used to do. — James Gillman

Vianello had the knack of getting people to talk. Especially if they were Venetians, the people he interviewed invariably warmed to this large, sweet-tempered man who gave every appearance of speaking Italian reluctantly, who was only too glad to lapse into their common dialect, a linguistic change that often carried its speakers along to unconscious revelation. — Donna Leon

It's your turn," she says.
Oh. I go still, wondering exactly what she has in mind. Inside, my body claps like a damn seal, but outside I'm suddenly too nervous to move. She leans forward and kisses under my ear. Ah, yes. That's nice. She kisses my neck and I reach for her hip, pulling her closer.
"My sweet little vixen."
She licks my earlobe, and a bolt of arousal forces me on top of her.
Anna is naked underneath me. All mine.
But she tsks and makes a little uh-uh-uuh sound, as if I've got it all wrong. — Wendy Higgins

Barbecue sauce is like a beautiful woman. If it's too sweet, it's bound to be hiding something. — Lyle Lovett

Brenda had been the landlady of the Pied Horse for twenty years and, as Jack, the village grocer, came in every single day, she knew just how cantankerous, stubborn and mean-spirited he could be. It was a common knowledge that his older daughter, Emily, had left home after a beating and had never been home since. His wife, Mary, was a sweet-natured woman who was well liked by everyone, but she was a bag of nerves and too weak to stand up to such a bully. — Lesley Pearse

Procrastination is not the problem. It is the solution. It is the universe's way of saying stop, slow down, you move too fast. Listen to the music. Whoa whoa, listen to the music. Because music makes the people come together, it makes the bourgeois and the rebel. So come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody try to love one another. Because what the world needs now is love, sweet love. And I know that love is a battlefield, but boogie on reggae woman because you're gonna make it after all. So celebrate good times, come on. I've gotta stop I've gotta come to my senses, I've been out riding fences for so long ... oops I did it again ... um ... What I'm trying to say is, if you leave tonight and you don't remember anything else that I've said, leave here and remember this: Procrastinate now, don't put it off. — Ellen DeGeneres

I'm a fool, the new day rises on the world and on my foolish life: I'm a fool, I loved the blue dawns over racetracks and made a bet Ioway was sweet like its name, my heart went out to lonely sounds in the misty springtime night of wild sweet America in her powers, the wetness on the wire fence bugled me to belief, I stood on sandpiles with an open soul, I not only accept loss forever, I am made of loss - I am made of Cody, too - — Jack Kerouac

Dylan: What was that? Is Brooke breaking shit now? I know she's upset but she needs to remember where she is,Joey.HANDLE IT.

Sweet Christ. Why couldn,t she be on bed rest at her mother's?

Me: Ease up on the shouty caps,cupcake. Everything is under control.

Dylan:BETTER BE.(I love you)

Me: BITCH.(love you too) — J. Daniels

Then you're dead, too, sweet little sister.'
Oh, yes,' said Valentine. 'They'll believe that. I didn't know it would kill Andrew. And when he was dead, I didn't know it will kill Valentine too. — Orson Scott Card

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

I was ten years old, and I was still playing conkers and knocking off sweet shops while she was sitting on the linoleum floor of her cell sawing at her wrists with a bit of broken glass she'd got from heaven-knows-were. Cut her fingers up, too, but she did it all right. They found her in the morning, sticky, red, and cold. — Neil Gaiman

Those true eyes Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise The sweet soul shining through them. — Robert Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Earl Of Lytton

With those dimples flashing, he murmurs, "I love you." His eyes continue holding mine as he releases those three sweet words into the cold air of the rink. In answer, a huge smile blooms across my face as I drop my bag and fly back into the warm confines of his arms before he wraps them tightly around me, picking me up and swinging me around in a tight circle. "I love you, too," I whisper — Jennifer Sucevic

And you would have lost. We were surrounded. He threatened your life, and he would have made good on that threat. He had you, and that meant he had me, too. — Becca Fitzpatrick

Where's Lover Boy? Oh, I see. You were gonna help him, right? Well that's sweet. It's too bad you couldn't help your little ... friend. That little girl? What was her name again? Rue? Well, we killed her. And now ... we're gonna kill you. -Clove, The Hunger Games — Suzanne Collins

I hate to tell you this, but I did not even like visiting Versailles. I found it just too ornate. It was like a complete diet of cotton candy, marzipan, and whipped cream. It gave me the mental equivalent of one of those toothaches you get when you bite into something too sweet. — Kathryn Lasky

Shall I tell you the secret of true love? her father once asked her. A friend of mine liked to tell me that women love flowers. He had many flirtations, but he never found a wife. Do you know why? Because women may love flowers, but only one woman loves the scent of gardenias in late summer that remind her of her grandmother's porch. Only one woman loves apple blossoms in a blue cup. Only one woman loves wild geraniums. That's Mama! Inej had cried. Yes, Mama loves wild geraniums because no other flower has quite the same color, and she claims that when she snaps the stem and puts a sprig behind her ear, the whole world smells like summer. Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart. That — Leigh Bardugo

Be my sonata, my cantata, my love
sing me something sweet
but not too sweet
(or i may grow deaf to our harmony
as we decrescendo into silence) — Nenia Campbell

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. — Mira Nair

Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart. — Leigh Bardugo

I look down, trying to see my skin like she does. Underneath the soft, cerulean-blue glow, there are so many lines it looks like a roadmap. I'm so used to the ruts and puffy scars crisscrossing my arms that I forget about them sometimes. They're the legacy of the questionable talent that's kept me alive as often as it's gotten me in trouble.
The story of my life is written in the wounds on my skin. I just wish other people could read the story, too. It'd save me a lot of explaining. — Erica Cameron

It (scent) was barely there at all, but in the hint of its existence it was as fragile as night blossoms - not too sweet but just enough, like the dew on a requiem bud in the palest hour of dawn. — Laini Taylor

He sat her on the edge of the bed then stood in front of her. When he stripped off his shirt, her jaw dropped.

Dear. God.

Ropes of corded muscles, hard lines of strength, sex, and everything in between covered his body. He had some chest hair, enough to enhance the beauty of his ink, but not too much.

And, sweet baby Jesus, his ink. — Carrie Ann Ryan

Sometimes, the Lord just takes blessed people because they've filled their purpose early. Everyone plays their own song. They sing their story to the world and leave behind a melody of memories. Sometimes ... their song is cut short and ends too early. But that doesn't mean their music was any less sweet or that they left any less of an impression. — Linda Kage

And I remembered now, too, my inadvertent youthful condescension, when the woman had said, apologizing for some information she couldn't recall, "I still remember the coat I wore when I was five, but I have no idea what I ate for breakfast today." I'd laughed and smiled in warm sympathy. How sweet, I had thought, she remembers her coat. She must have loved it not to have forgotten. But the coat wouldn't ask any effort of preservation. Feeling ninety, and no longer five, there would be the real effort. Telling that five-year old girl, in her beautiful coat, You're all finished. Submerged. Obsolete.
We are ghosts of ourselves, and of others, and all of these ghosts appear perfectly real. — Susan Choi

Peter curled his hands into fists at his sides. 'Kiss me,' he said.
She leaned towards him slowly, until her face was too close to be in focus. Her hair fell over Peter's shoulder like a curtain and her eyes closed. She smelled like autumn-like apple cider and slanting sun and the snap of the coming cold. He felt his heart scrambling, caught inside the confines of his own body.
Josie's lips landed just on the edge of his, almost his cheek and not quite his mouth. 'I'm glad I wasn't stuck in here alone,' she said shyly, and he tasted the words, sweet as mint on her breath. — Jodi Picoult

You have cable?" He nodded toward her TV.
She tossed him the clicker. "Sure do. And if I remember, there's a Godzilla marathon on TBS tonight."
"Sweet," the vampire said, kicking his legs out. "I always root for the monster."
She smiled at him. "Me, too. — J.R. Ward

There'll be moments in life, sweet pea, that stand out in your memories like a photograph. Scenes captured perfectly in your mind, frozen in time with each detail as colorful as it was that first time you saw it. 'Flashbulb memories,' some people call them," she'd told me, her eyes crinkling up and nearly disappearing in a face etched with too many laugh lines to count. "Most people don't recognize those moments as they happen. They look back fifty years later, and realize that those were the most important parts of their entire life. But at the time, they're so busy looking ahead to what's coming down the line or worrying about their future, they don't enjoy their present. Don't be like them, sweet pea. Don't get so caught up in chasing your dreams that you forget to live them. — Julie Johnson

Tam: What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let me go.
Lav: 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell.
O! keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Tam: So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Dem: Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long.
Lav: No grace! no womanhood! Ah, beastly creature,
The blot and enemy to our general name.
Confusion fall - — William Shakespeare

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind. — Helen Hunt Jackson

She really was too sweet and innocent for an asshole like me. "She's with her mother." I — Lora Ann

Landry looked crestfallen. "Too bad. Having a beautiful woman whisper sweet nothings in my ear with a French accent would have been intriguing."
Okay, what was a woman supposed to do after a line like that? Everly couldn't resist leaning closer and giving him what she hoped was a sexy, come-hither look.
"I think I may be able to help you with those sweet little nothings," she said in her best French accent. — Paige Tyler

There was five golden rules. My dad made me write them over and over until I knew them like I knew my own name...

Number five: never have a fire in the daytime, 'cause people could see the smoke and come and get us.

Number four: if I ever see anyone other than my dad, I run, and keep running.

Number three: always say my prayers, so as God don't get mad at me and decide to come make me sick too.

Numer two: never forget to pray for my momma, 'cause she was the best and prettiest lady God ever made.

Number one: never, ever leave the woods. — Jeff Lemire

I love 'Forrest Gump;' I like sweet, cheery, happy movies. But it has some dark moments too. — Andie MacDowell

You're not just doing that to impress her, are you?"
"Everything I do is to impress her. It's my mission in life," he said with a completely serious face, while he squeezed my knee under the table.
Mom burst out laughing. "I like him," she said.
"Me too. I think I'll keep him," I said, taking his hand and twisting my fingers with his.
"Good," he said, giving my hand a squeeze. — Chelsea M. Cameron

A fool I was to sleep at noon,
And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
A fool to snap my lily.
My garden-plot I have not kept;
Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
It's winter now I waken.
Talk what you please of future spring
And sun-warm'd sweet to-orrow:
Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
I sit alone with sorrow. — Christina Rossetti

You talk too much, you laugh too loud, and that's the price of love. — Bryan Ferry

Explain to me again how matricide is illegal in some states," Sissy growled from behind him as he pulled her toward the enormous staircase.
"In all states. Plus, I think there are some moral restrictions around it, too."
"That's not fair. Clearly, these lawmakers haven't met my mother."
"I wouldn't know. Besides, this is all so foreign to me," he explained once they hit the top step.
"My mother loves me and would do anything for me, so I've never had a desire to kill her." Light brown eyes abruptly narrowed.
"Throw that in my face again, and your sweet momma will be
nursing your mauled body back to health."
"Sweet talker. — Shelly Laurenston

I'm the man of the hour, the man with the power, too sweet to be sour. — Billy Graham

Brooke, I'm already gone. The only reason I tried to get away from you boneheads earlier was because I wanted a couple of hours to see the sights before I headed home. Crooked Street maybe. Or Treasure Island. That sweet little bridge you're all so fond of. I can't say I like the Alcatraz tour, though. It's a little too realistic. — Kim Harrison

Our memories and the events of our lives are untidy things. We wish that we could file them away and shut the door, or we wish the opposite - that they would stay with us forever. You want to banish the remembrance of a tight hold on your ankle, a rope under a bed, the amber-colored medicine bottles of your father, the door your mother slams after a night of too much wine and jealousy. You want to keep close to you always that first sweet kiss, a maple leaf, that growing sense of yourself; you want to hold the sight of your dying father on that last boat trip, the calm you remember as your mother held you. Her voice. — Deb Caletti

This life is difficult. We lose fathers, brothers, mothers, songbirds and pieces of ourselves. Whips strike the innocent, honors go to the guilty, and there is too much loneliness. I would be a fool to pray for my children to escape all of that. Ask for too much and it might actually turn out worse. But I can pray for small things, like fertile fields, a mother's love, a child's smile - a life that's less bitter than sweet. — Nadia Hashimi

I lost my voice and my best friend too
On swift, fierce winds and wings of blue,
The cold rain fell where beams had shone,
So I wrapped up tight and safe. Alone.

But I missed my friend, I missed my voice,
And my heart still whispered of another choice
To break out of my binding, safe, and warm,
And see what the world looked like after the storm.

So I struggled free and was greeted by
Colorful brushstrokes across the sky,
The melody of the summer breeze
And blue wings like mine in hazel trees.

On the soft, sweet air of the mountain glade,
We gathered together in cool, green shade,
And told our stories, beginnings to ends,
And found our song in the hearts of new friends. — Elaine Vickers

She was the most precious thing in the world to him. So beautiful, so sweet, so giving and too damn good for him, but he was a selfish bastard and wouldn't let her go. — R.L. Mathewson

Her six-year-old brain had lost her father at sweet and was still stuck trying to decipher lemonade.
"But lemon is pretty, Dad. It's yellow. Like sun."
Her father nodded, his lips curved up at the corners.
"Sun is pretty and it has a smiley face. Sun is not bad."
"No, I guess it's not." Her father chuckled.
"I love sun."
"Of course you do, sweetie-pie."
"So lemon is nice, too."
"I believe so, but some people don't like the taste. It's too sour, they say."
She looked back at her father and said with a tone that suggested what other people thought about lemon was crazy. "Then add sugar. No need to blame the lemon. — E. Mellyberry

I am not saying there will always be flowers and flowers in your life. No, there are thorns, but they too are good. And I am not saying that your life will always be sweet. It will many times be very bitter, but that's how life grows: through dialectics. I am not saying you will always be good. Sometimes you will be very bad, but one thing will be certain: when you are bad you will be authentically bad, and when you are good you will be authentically good. One can trust, one can rely upon you. When you are angry, one can rely on it that your anger is not false, not cold; it is hot and alive. And when you love, one can rely upon you that it is alive and warm. Remember, — Osho

In the books of some memories it was the best time that ever sloshed over the world - the old time, the gay time, sweet and simple, as though time were young and fearless. Old men who didn't know whether they were going to stagger over the boundary of the century looked forward to it with distaste. For the world was changing, and sweetness was gone, and virtue too. — John Steinbeck

My time with Eli was a sweet sort of agony. It was like the feeling you would get watching a bubble as a child. A thing you can't help but find magical and beautiful yet it must remain elusive. You can't try to get too close. You can't try to touch it lest it pop and be gone forever, but there is nothing you want more than to try. So frustrated you will yourself to hold back and savor it for what it is, a moment of fleeting perfection. — Jennifer Mardoll

And the fuck is yours too, WTF. That question does not apply 'to everything every day.' If it does, you're wasting your life. If it does, you're a lazy coward and you are not a lazy coward.
Ask better questions, sweet pea. The fuck is your life. Answer it. — Cheryl Strayed

The trouble with us is that we expect too much from the great happenings, the unusual things, and we overlook the common flowers on the path of life, from which we might abstract sweets, comforts, delights. — Orison Swett Marden

Lincoln?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in love at first sight?"
He made himself look at her face, at her wide-open eyes and earnest forehead. At her unbearably sweet mouth.
"I don't know," he said. "Do you believe in love before that?"
Her breath caught in her throat like a sore hiccup.
And then it was too much to keep trying not to kiss her. — Rainbow Rowell