Your Sweet Like Sugar Quotes & Sayings

If my like for you was a football crowd, you'd be deaf 'cause of the roar. And if my like for you was a boxer, there'd be a dead guy lying on the floor. And if my like for you was sugar, you'd lose your teeth before you were twenty. And if my like for you was money, let's just say you'd be spending plenty. — Cath Crowley

I decline the coffee. I don't drink it, because no matter how much sugar I put into it, it still tastes like ass-water to me. Maybe it's because my taste buds are so desensitized to sweet that anything not comprised of at least ninety percent sugar tastes wrong — Katja Millay

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? — Preeti Shenoy

Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?
Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light
Television lover, baby, go all night
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah — Def Leppard

His attention. Sweet and intense at the same time. Like a barley sugar I could untwist from its plastic and hold in my mouth. A flood of secret pleasure. — Alexis Hall

I placed some of the DNA on the ends of my fingers and rubbed them together. The stuff was sticky. It began to dissolve on my skin. 'It's melting
like cotton candy.'
'Sure. That's the sugar in the DNA,' Smith said.
'Would it taste sweet?'
'No. DNA is an acid, and it's got salts in it. Actually, I've never tasted it.'
Later, I got some dried calf DNA. I placed a bit of the fluff on my tongue. It melted into a gluey ooze that stuck to the roof of my mouth in a blob. The blob felt slippery on my tongue, and the taste of pure DNA appeared. It had a soft taste, unsweet, rather bland, with a touch of acid and a hint of salt. Perhaps like the earth's primordial sea. It faded away.
Page 67, in Richard Preston's biographical essay on Craig Venter, "The Genome Warrior" (originally published in The New Yorker in 2000). — Timothy Ferris

I live a healthy lifestyle and I crave healthy food. I love porridge - I have bizarre cravings for it. I love it with brown sugar and bananas, and I'm a huge fan of cinnamon - I put cinnamon on everything. I also have a sweet tooth and I don't like to deprive myself. I think everything in moderation is the key. — Jessica Lowndes

She was tall and slender with long dark hair that swung in a shiny ponytail from one shoulder to the other, her dress swirling beneath her cinched waist.
He thought suddenly of watermelon. It was hard to come by back in Scotland but even before he'd ever tasted one in the flesh it had reminded him of summer (which was also hard to come by back in Scotland).
He knew what watermelon tasted like now; it was one of his favorite things. He could almost feel it in his mouth as he stood there, that cold sweet powerful explosion of almost nothing.
He needed to find a slice as soon as possible. — Sarah-Kate Lynch

If you must sweeten your food, I'll allow the sugar alcohol xylitol and the sweet herb stevia. I prefer that you use xylitol or a blend of xylitol and stevia. I worry that if you use straight stevia, it might cause calorie disregulation. So I like to mix the two of them. — J.J. Virgin

I bunched the squirrel-fur hat up under my head and left the pack for Mal to use as a pillow. Then I pulled my coat close around me and huddled beneath the new furs. I was nodding off when I heard Mal return and settle himself beside me, his back pressed comfortably against mine. As I drifted into sleep, I felt like I could still taste the sugar from that sweet roll on my tongue, feel the pleasure of laughter gusting through me. We'd been robbed. We'd almost been killed. We were being hunted by the most powerful man in Ravka. But we were friends again, and sleep came more easily than it had in a long time. At some point during the night, I woke to Mal's snoring. I jabbed him in the back with my elbow. He rolled onto his side, muttered something in his sleep, and threw his arm over me. A minute later he started snoring again, but this time I didn't wake him. — Leigh Bardugo

Can I kiss you?" And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. "Your kisses are like sugar woman." He would tell her affectionately. "So sweet." He would close in on her and then ask softly, "Please spend the night with me. — Keira D. Skye

Scones (flavoured with outrage, optional - see "My Story") Mix together: 2 cups flour 4 t. baking powder ¾ t. salt 2-4 T. sugar (depending on whether scones are to be sweet or savoury) Cut into the flour mixture: 1/3 cup butter When the mixture looks like coarse breadcrumbs, add any flavourings (handful of grated cheese with herbs, and green onions; lemon rind; dried cranberries, currents, or blueberries, etc). Beat together: ¾ cup milk or cream 1 egg Stir into the dry mixture. Turn out onto a floured surface and knead three or four times, then roll out to ¾ inch thick and cut into circles with cutter, or pat into one large circle and cut that into wedges. Bake at 400 degrees 15 minutes, or until golden. Can brush the top with egg and sprinkle with coarse sugar before baking, if desired. Some — Laurie R. King

She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her
like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more. — Laini Taylor

With each deep inhalation, he was aware of a sweet, pure fragrance that entered his nostrils and spread through his brain like a drug.
"What is that smell?" he muttered.
Vivian answered in a hushed voice. "Mrs. Buttons distilled some vanilla water for me. Do you like it?"
"We brought your perfume from the town house. Why didn't you use that?"
Her gaze flickered to his mouth and back to his eyes. "It didn't suit me," she whispered. "Too heady."
Grant drew in another lungful of delicate vanilla-scented air. "You smell like a sugar biscuit," he answered gruffly. One he badly wanted to bite into. Her scent was innocent and homey and appetizing, making his blood surge and his muscles harden in acute yearning. — Lisa Kleypas

In the kitchen, Chris pours her a glass of sun tea. Bitter. She hates the way they make tea up here. Tea should be sweet, gritty with sugar. Up here it's like the Yankees want their tea to taste like wash water. — Chuck Wendig

Silver sparkles from inside caught in the air and rolled in the wind past her. She took a deep breath, and it made her stand up straighter. Sugar and vanilla and butter.
That relentless scent had been following her around all her life. Sometimes she could see it, like this, but most of the time she felt it. When she was a kid, she could be sitting in class at school, or walking her dog Chester, or in the middle of a dreary violin lesson with her older brother, and the smell would suddenly appear out of nowhere and make her inexplicably restless. Even now, sometimes she would wake up at night and swear someone was baking a cake in the house. — Sarah Addison Allen

and I bet Skylar tastes sweet, like the powdered sugar on those little white doughnuts — Heather Demetrios

There is a dessert dish in Austria called Kaiserschmarrn - it's kind of like a sweet raisin pancake with eggs and sugar. It's definitely not something I can eat often, but if I've done well at a race, sometimes that's my celebration treat! — Lindsey Vonn

I opened my mouth to tell her that everything would be okay, but the words melted like sugar on my tongue-sweet yet insubstantial. — Rachel Vincent

During difficult times, it's best to cut down on sweets like cookies, cake and candy. Satisfy your sweet tooth with fruit to help prevent blood sugar dips and spikes. — Karen Salmansohn

She reached up and lay her hand on my cheek. "You have the sweetest face," she said, looking at me dreamily. "It's like the perfect kitchen."
I fought not to smile. This was the delirium. She'd fade in and out of it before the profound exhaustion dragged her down into unconsciousness. If you see someone spouting nonsense to themselves in an alleyway in Tarbean, odds are they're not actually crazy, just a sweet-eater deranged by too much denner. "A kitchen?"
"Yes," she said. "Everything matches and the sugar bowl is right where it should be. — Patrick Rothfuss

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

She could tell when a woman was pregnant - even before the woman herself might know -just from the way she smelled: a combinaison of brown sugar and Stargazer lilies. Happiness had a pungent scent, like the sourest lime or lemon. Broken hearts smelled surprisingly sweet. Sadness filled the air with a salty, sea-like redolence; death smelled like sadness. — Leslye Walton

Kate picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a cup. She added sugar and cream until it was the color of caramel. Her mom used to take her coffee like this. 'So sweet it could kiss you,' she used to say. — Sarah Addison Allen

I lean in this time, and she doesn't turn away. It's cold, and our lips are dry, noses a little wet, foreheads sweaty beneath wool hats. I can't touch her face, even though I want to, because I'm wearing gloves. But God, when her lips come apart, everything turns warm and her sugar sweet breath is in my mouth, and I probably taste like hot dogs but I don't care. She kisses like a sweet devouring, and I don't know where to touch her because I want all of her. I want to touch her knees and hips and her stomach and her back and her everything, but we're encased in all these clothes, so we're just two marshmallows bumping against each other, and she smiles at me while still kissing because she knows how ridiculous it is, too. — John Green

Self-help and those stupid proverbs, they do nothing. Soul food? It's like trying to cure starvation with a sugar cube. It might taste sweet on the lips but once it dissolves, the emptiness is still there. — C. Sean McGee

Sweet as sugar. And then he hardened. I can't 'splain it another way. He was like sugar in a jar that hardens. And after a while you take it out, and it is one rock-solid lump — Rene Denfeld

He rolled her over, rising above her, cupping her cheek. "I wasn't lying, Loree. I've always heard the music in my heart ... but I lost the ability to do that when I went to prison. It was like the music just shriveled up and died. I thought I'd never hear it again. How could I play the violin if I couldn't hear the music? Then lately, I started going crazy because I'd hear snatches of music - when you'd look at me or smile at me. But I couldn't grab onto it, I couldn't hold it. Then last night, you told me that you loved me and I heard the music, so sweet, so soft. It scared me to hear it so clearly after I hadn't for so long.
"Tonight, I hurt you - again. I was going to let you go, Loree. I was gonna take you back to Austin. But I heard my heart break ... and I knew that's all I'd hear for the rest of my life. Don't leave me, Sugar."
Joy filled her and she brushed the locks of hair back off his brow. "I won't."
-Austin and Loree — Lorraine Heath

There was a metal rod inside of Colin. The rod went from his stomach to the middle of his head. It was made of steel and sugar, and had been dissolving inside of Colin for ten or fifteen years, slow and sweet, above and behind his tongue; and he could taste it in that way, like an aftertaste, removed and seeping and outside of the mouth. Sometimes he'd glimpse it with the black, numb backs of his eyes. But what he really wanted was to wrench it out. Cut it up and chew it. Or melt it. Bathe in the hard, sweet lava of it. — Tao Lin

Move into kiss those sweet sugar lips, baby looks just like love. — Dave Matthews