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Honey Quotes

Quotes tagged as "honey" Showing 1-30 of 124
A.A. Milne
“Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.”
A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Dodie Smith
“I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.”
Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

Raymond Carver
“Honey, no offense, but sometimes I think I could shoot you and watch you kick.”
Raymond Carver, Where I'm Calling From: New and Selected Stories

Antonio Machado
“Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt --
O, marvelous error --
That there was a beehive here inside my heart
And the golden bees were making white combs
And sweet honey from all my failures.”
Antonio Machado

Henry David Thoreau
“The keeping of bees is like the direction of sunbeams.”
Henry David Thoreau

Muriel Barbery
“We think we can make honey without sharing in the fate of bees, but we are in truth nothing but poor bees, destined to accomplish our task and then die.”
Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

Friedrich Nietzsche
“What is happening to me happens to all fruits that grow ripe.
It is the honey in my veins that makes my blood thicker, and my soul quieter.”
Friedrich Nietzsche

Marissa Meyer
“A true queen is made not in times of prosperity, but in times of hardship.”
Marissa Meyer, Archenemies
tags: honey

Deb Caletti
“Here is something that Peach, one of the Casserole Queens, says about men and women and love. You know that scene in Romeo and Juliet, where Romeo is standing on the ground looking longingly at Juliet on the balcony above him? One of the most romantic moments in all of literary history? Peach says there's no way that Romeo was standing down there to profess his undying devotion. The truth, Peach says, is that Romeo was just trying to look up Juliet's skirt.”
Deb Caletti, Honey, Baby, Sweetheart

Amor Towles
“Dutifully, the Count put the spoon in his mouth. In an instant, there was the familiar sweetness of fresh honey—sunlit, golden, and gay. Given the time of year, the Count was expecting this first impression to be followed by a hint of lilacs from the Alexander Gardens or cherry blossoms from the Garden Ring. But as the elixir dissolved on his tongue, the Count became aware of something else entirely. Rather than the flowering trees of Central Moscow, the honey had a hint of a grassy riverbank . . . the trace of a summer breeze . . . a suggestion of a pergola . . . But most of all there was the unmistakable essence of a thousand apple trees in bloom.
"Nizhny Novgorod", he said.
And it was.”
Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

Patrick Süskind
“She was one of those languid women, made of dark honey, smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture, a toss of the hair, a single slow whiplash of the eyes — and all the while remain as still as the centre of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract themselves the yearnings and the souls of both men and women.”
Patrick Süskind

Rupert Brooke
“Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?”
Rupert Brooke, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester

Lidia Yuknavitch
“I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her. I try not to bite her lip. She tastes like vodkahoney.”
Lidia Yuknavitch, Dora: A Headcase

Sue Monk Kidd
“We lived for honey. We swallowed a spoonful in the morning to wake us up and one at night to put us to sleep. We took it with every meal to calm the mind, give us stamina, and prevent fatal disease. We swabbed ourselves in it to disinfect cuts or heal chapped lips. It went in our baths, our skin cream, our raspberry tea and biscuits. Nothing was safe from honey...honey was the ambrosia of the gods and the shampoo of the goddesses.”
Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees
tags: honey

Amy Leigh Mercree
“Love drips like honey from the hive, constant, sweet, precious, into your heart each and every moment if you let it.”
Amy Leigh Mercree

Rebecca Solnit
“The stories shatter. Or you wear them out or leave them behind. Over time the story of the memory loses its power. Over time you become someone else. Only when the honey turns to dust are you free.”
Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

Toba Beta
“I love you so, honey.
I love you too, money.”
Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut

Holly Ringland
“Cootamundra wattle

Meaning: I wound to heal
Acacia baileyana | New South Wales

Graceful tree with fern-like foliage and bright golden-yellow globe-shaped flower heads. Adaptable, hardy evergreen, easy to grow. Profuse flowering in winter. Heavily fragrant and sweetly scented. Produces abundant pollen, favored for feeding bees in the production of honey.
Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

Susan Wiggs
“Servers moved among the guests with trays of hors d'oeuvres and the signature cocktail, champagne with a honey infused liqueur and a delicate spiral twist of lemon.
The banquet was bursting with color and flavor- flower-sprinkled salads, savory chili roasted salmon, honey glazed ribs, just-harvested sweet corn, lush tomatoes and berries, artisan cheeses. Everything had been harvested within a fifty-mile radius of Bella Vista.
The cake was exactly what Tess had requested, a gorgeous tower of sweetness. Tess offered a gracious speech as she and Dominic cut the first slices. "I've come a long way from the city girl who subsisted on Red Bull and microwave burritos," she said. "There's quite a list of people to thank for that- my wonderful mother, my grandfather and my beautiful sister who created this place of celebration. Most of all, I'm grateful to Dominic." She turned to him, offering the first piece on a yellow china plate. "You're my heart, and there is no sweeter feeling than the love we share. Not even this cake. Wait, that might be overstating it. Everyone, be sure you taste this cake. It's one of Isabel's best recipes.”
Susan Wiggs, The Beekeeper's Ball

Holly Ringland
“Honey grevillea

Meaning: Foresight
Grevillea eriostachya | Inland Australia

Kaliny-kalinypa (Pitjantjatjara) is a straggly shrub with long narrow silver-green leaves that produces bright green, yellow and orange flowers. Commonly grows on red sandhills and dunes. The flowers contain thick, honey-like nectar, which can be sucked from the flowers; a favorite treat for Anangu children.
Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

Edward Albee
“Honey: I know these people ...”
Edward Albee, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Anthony T. Hincks
“Bees make honey while the sun shines.”
Anthony T. Hincks

Katherine Reay
“My knees almost buckled as I tasted blueberry honey, raspberry honey, wildflower honey, sunflower honey---I bought six jars without even thinking.
"What are you going to do with all that?" Jane asked.
"I have no idea, but I sense lots of baking, even some infusions. I can take what we don't use back to New York. Honey carries such local flavor; they'll be so fresh at Feast.”
Katherine Reay, Lizzy and Jane

“Beatriz breathed in the sweet aromas that lately appealed to her. Those at the forefront were of various honeys in the wooden honey pots anchoring the tablecloth: lavender, orange blossom, and eucalyptus. But the room was a cornucopia of visual and olfactory treats. Marcona almonds were roasting in Reuben's old wood oven, and from the kitchen downstairs wafted scents of all the spices they would be offering their customers fresh over the counter in cloth bags: cinnamon stalks, cloves, anise, ground ginger, juniper berries, finely grated nutmeg. Nora and Beatriz packaged all the spices themselves. They would also offer ribbon-tied bags of Phillip's tea creations served in the café: loose leaves of lemon verbena, dried pennyroyal, black tea with vanilla. All around the room, on the floor, shelves, and counters, were baskets and baskets and baskets of irresistible delights: jars of marmalades and honeys and pure, dark, sugarless chocolate pieces ready to melt with milk at home for the richest hot chocolate. Customers could even buy jars of chocolate shavings, to sprinkle over warmed pears and whipped cream, or over the whipped cream on their hot chocolates. They sold truffles white and dark, with or without rum, biscuits with every variation of nuts and spices, bars small or large of their own chocolate, and dried fruits dipped in chocolate.”
Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen

Robin McKinley
“The jar her hand had chosen—and it was an odd old wooden jar, a recognizable crooked shape under her fingers, a reject because it would not sit straight on a shelf, the only empty jar she could find when at the last minute she’d decided to take a little more honey on her journey, a little of the mysterious honey, the honey that seemed to suggest laughter and joy and a long bright horizon, the strong-tasting honey whose distinguishing source she could not identify. She’d almost laughed when she decanted it because the bigger crock it lived in was also very crooked, not merely a reject but so lopsided that her mother had kept trying to throw it out, and her father kept rescuing it; and when her father died her mother kept it after all, for those memories of him. Mirasol had thought, as she carefully poured, that perhaps this honey had an affinity for those who do not sit securely, who do not rest peacefully, who limp instead of walk. She hadn’t quite been able to laugh, but she’d been smiling when she tucked it into its corner of a saddlebag, and the smile had been as refreshing as cold water Ron a hot day. This was the honey that had given her energy in the sennight past when she had none, the honey she had put last into the cup for her last-of-all stop on the pavilion hill.”
Robin McKinley, Chalice

“A library floats on a river filled with honey.”
Magic Realism Bot

Kate   Young
“You get yourself a good peach brandy from the liquor store. Pour yourself a jigger full and mix it with some raw honey from Mason's Market. He has the local honey with all the wonderful antibiotic properties still in it." She made a face. "Not that cheap industrial stuff. It'll cure that cough in no time. Help you sleep too." She winked at Betsy.
"Glenda's right. We use cinnamon whiskey and honey. Works like a charm every time." Miss Susie smiled. Her face lit up in that warm, loving, grandmotherly way.”
Kate Young, Southern Sass and a Battered Bride

Stewart Stafford
“I Once Was A Bee by Stewart Stafford

I once was a bee,
All striped and dorky,
I got crushed underfoot,
By Amber Heard's Yorkie.

It mashed my wings,
I never sought money,
Even when it made me,
Poop out some honey.

As I flew to Bee Heaven,
In a mystical fog,
She made such a fuss,
Of that murdering dog.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
Stewart Stafford

“Soothe your throat with honey, not words.”
Marty Rubin

Heather Webber
“Why'd your mother choose the name Glory? Is there meaning behind it?"
"I thought she had chosen it because morning glories represent mortal life, but Mama told me it was because there had been a golden light around me when I came back to Georgia. Said it looked like a full-body halo. Till the day she died, she said that light was because when Bee had gone to glory, glory had come to me."
It was impossible not to remember that the first time I saw Glory, I'd thought she glowed with light as well, as if her innate goodness shined for all to see.
"But I don't think it's some kind of halo at all," she said, "even though such a big piece of me died that night in this garden."
"What do you think it is?"
She glanced at a bee skimming the water of the gazing pool. "It's always reminded me of honey. Especially since I feel like the bees are looking out for me. I've felt their buzzing underfoot since that horrible night. It never went away. I like to think that the glow---and the buzzing---are their reminders that I'm safe now.”
Heather Webber, In the Middle of Hickory Lane

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