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Bittersweet Quotes

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Bittersweet Quotes

“I am very small, and I don’t find myself wishing I were any bigger. All I want, with my one tiny moment, is to love you. If you remember anything about me, remember the truest thing: I will love you after all the stars have burned out, after the sun has died and ice has covered the earth, after the last human has taken her last breath. I’m happy, so happy to be a tiny fleck of a thing alongside you. We may just be moments, June, but to love a handful of people very well, that’s a good life. I was just a blip, a spark, the blink of God’s eyes. Because of you, it was more than enough. It was everything. I was just a moment, and you gave me a million Junes. I was just a moment, and you made me forever.”

LoveHopeGriefBittersweet
Book:A Million Junes
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“I wanted to tell her that I would be safe, careful. I wanted to promise. But I couldn’t. I was separating us again. Maybe even forever. I wished the Divine created a Gift that stretched milliseconds into minutes. I wished He created me with such a Gift breathing life into my soul. He created a bright Unfortunate instead, and that was enough for what needed to happen.”

RomancePurposeHopeWishPromiseLgbtBittersweetDivine PurposeNora UnfortunateFern Fairaway
Book:Unity
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“Moments like this were like eating a whole platter of honeyed butter pastries in one sitting, tasting the mouthwatering pleasure of every bite while feeling a little sick at the same time. Roxannah enjoyed the sweetness of her mother's appreciation. The delight of knowing herself useful to her family. But her mother's words also made her a little nauseous. She wished she did not have to carry the weight of their survival. The burden of it proved so heavy at times that it crushed even her ability to dream of better things, leaving behind merely the battle to endure.”

NeededAppreciatedBittersweet
Book:The Queen's Cook
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“Chiara gasped as her mentor passed her the wand, and a small star appeared at its tip. It should have warmed Chiara's heart to see it, but she could barely muster a smile. "The reception of a fairy's wand is often a bittersweet occasion. Let that be a reminder for you that magic can bring great joy as well as sorrow, hope as well as fear. May you use yours to shine light upon darkness." "I will," Chiara vowed. As soon as the words left her lips, the star on her wand came aglow and a pair of iridescent wings bloomed from her back. "What name will you take, Chiara Belmagio?" The answer was one she had toyed with ever since she'd considered the fairies' invitation. "The Blue Fairy." Blue was the color that brought her joy. The color of the walls of the music room where she and Ilaria had spent countless hours laughing and chasing each other and making music; the color of her father's eyes, like hers; the color of the sea where she and Niccolo took their little boat out when the weather was fair. Her dress shimmered with stardust. The pale color deepened into a warm and rich blue, and the fabric softened into gossamer silk. The threads stitched themselves into a gown worthy of a good fairy, turning her long sleeves into iridescent swaths of starlight. A beautiful yet understated uniform. Perfect for the new fairy. Only the ribbon she wore in her hair was the same as before. A reminder of Chiara Belmagio, daughter of Pariva.”

TransformationBittersweetColor BlueChiaraBlue FairyWand
Book:When You Wish Upon a Star
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“And at the center of the room, a girl. A woman. She sits at the klavier with eyes closed, playing their song. Their story. Elisabeth. Her image flickers, wavers, a reflection seen on the edges of a candle flame. The shadows wriggle and writhe with curiosity, and with tremendous effort, the monster holds them back. Please, he whispers. Please, let me have this one thing. As he plays, the darkness recedes. From his skin, from his hair, the weight of the rams' horns on his head lightening. Color returns to the world and to his eyes, a mismatched blue and green as the monster remembers what it is to be a man. Elisabeth. He sits down on the bench beside her, begging her- beseeching her- to open her eyes and see him. Be with him. But she keeps her eyes closed, hands trembling on the keyboard. Elisabeth. She stirs. He sucks in a sharp breath and lifts his hand to stroke her cheek with fingers that are still mangled, broken, strange. His touch passes through her like a knife through smoke, yet she shivers as if she can feel the brush of his fingers in the dark places of her soul, her body, her heart. She is as insubstantial as mist, but he cannot resist the urge, the itch, to kiss. He closes his eyes and leans in close, imagining the silk of her skin against his lips. They are met. A gasp. His eyes fly open but hers are still closed. Her hand lifts to her mouth, as though the tingle of their unexpected caress still lingered there. "Mein Herr," she sighs. "Oh, mein Herr." I'm here, he says. Look at me. Be with me. See me. Call me by name. Yet when she opens her eyes, she stares through him, not at him. The darkness hisses and crawls, the shushing sound of branches in an icy wind. She drops her head into her hands, her shoulders hunched, and the sound of her crying is more bitter than even the coldest winter night. No! he cries. He wants to comfort and caress her, but he cannot hold her, cannot touch her. He is a ghost in her mind, voiceless, silent, and incorporeal.”

BittersweetGoblin KingElisabeth Vogler
Book:Shadowsong
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“From the trolley, he picked up a chocolate, rolled in cacao powder. 'These are ganache truffles,' he said. 'The easiest chocolates to make. Even a child can make them. Even Mahmed could, probably.' I took one. It smelt of darkness infused with gold; a scent that both drew and repelled me. 'I don't really like dark chocolate,' I said. 'Just try one. I made them myself, from bean to bar. Nothing artificial.' I bit a piece from the chocolate. It was bitter and powdery, but there were other flavors there, struggling to be released. 'Rest it on your tongue for a while. Eyes closed. Mouth half open.' I did as he said. The bitter scent started to intensify. It's odd; I didn't quite like it, and yet it was evocative. I can taste charcoal, and nutmeg, and salt, and olive, and strong wild honey. It makes me think of incense, and woodsmoke on a frosty night, and the scent of fallen leaves in the rain, and the memory of that night in the church, the warmth of the confessional. I thought I didn't like chocolate. In fact, I never knew it. Those little squares of chocolate I'd had as a child were nothing like this. 'I know. It's different,' he said. 'It's eighty per cent cacao. It might taste a little bitter to you, but that's the nature of cacao: the stuff you get in the shops here is really mostly sugar and palm oil and fat. But this is the soul of the cacao bean. This strength. This bitter potency. And in this form, it has a kick. It sharpens the mind. Gives energy.' I put the rest of the chocolate aside. My mouth was furred with darkness.”

BittersweetEarthyDark ChocolateAll NaturalFirst BiteGanache
Book:Vianne
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“Elles ont le corps pulpeux là où le regard mâle cherche du rebondi, quelque chose de ferme, doux et chaud pour remplir une paume rêche, rarement propre à cause des travaux manuels qui ne sont pas le lot des maîtres au village. Le type usé cherche un corps jeune pour essuyer ses mains crottées d'homme vaillant, un corps-torchon qui sent bon la vanille importée, la mauvaise gousse taillée, puis frottée entre les seins et à l'attache des bras qui n'a pas connu le fil du couteau sur la veine la plus apparente, celle qui pisserait rouge si on la tranchait dans le sens de la mort.”

PoeticBittersweetTragical
Book:Malabourg
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“This is..." I couldn't come up with the words. "My favorite place in town," he replied, and carefully we walked over to the edge of the bell tower. The sun was slowly sinking down between the rolling hills of the Catskills, purples and blues and pinks. "I've never been up here with anyone else." My heart fluttered. "No one?" He shook his head. "But I thought you'd appreciate it." I glanced up at him as the setting sun made the harsh lines of his face softer, the blond of his hair more gold. This was a special place--- meant for a grand romantic gesture. It was a place wasted on me. I was stealing all his heroine's moments, wasn't I? It was a sobering thought.”

SunsetBittersweetHeroineRomantic Scene
Book:A Novel Love Story
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“I asked her once what criteria she used when she hired people. "I choose those who are hurt, and exhausted," she answered right away. I couldn't help but smile. Since I thought wanting to help people who suffered in some way when dealing with books was a wonderful reason. When I heard what she said next, though, my smile retreated. "And people who have secrets. Put those to good use, use their weaknesses to make them at my beck and call." "Why would you do that?" "People change. You don't know what's going to happen next. If something does happen, I want to be able to deal with it. To protect you, and this place." My aunt was certainly not just some kind, charitable person. I knew this from a long time ago, but her words now only reinforced it.”

BenefitsFulfillmentCriteriaBittersweetRecruiting
Book:Dinner at the Night Library
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“A fleeting dream” I once dreamed of us in some hazy, far-off future. We owned a small, weathered house by the sea, a place where light poured in soft and warm, and everything was touched by gold. The day was mellow, the kind that promised tranquility and peace. I covered your eyes with my hands, guiding you toward the little apartment— faded wallpaper, creaking floors, the soft decay of things well-loved. Old green windows and the faint scent of salt in the air. The walls carried whispers of a long time passing. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, because it was ours. I pulled my hands away, and you had seen the sea, endless and shimmering, and in that moment, you were radiant, smiling like you’d found something you never knew you needed. You loved it then, loved it with that quiet look you had— a soft smile that spoke of everything unspoken. You smiled like you’d tasted a secret that could never be shared, and for that moment, we were wrapped in something delicate and fleeting, a quiet happiness that felt too fragile to hold for long. You loved it, loved the way the sun hit the water just right, loved the quiet promise held in the soft hum of the waves. For that brief, perfect moment, you were happy, and so was I, lost in the simple beauty of what could have been.”

Love QuotesDreams QuotesHope QuotesBittersweetLovers QuotesStars QuotesSea QuotesNostalgia Quotes
Author:Dr. Anna Curto D.C.
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“Avis puts aside the 'Saint-Honore' and decides to embark on a new pastry. She's assembling ingredients when the phone rings in the next room. She ignores it as she arranges her new mise en place. This recipe is constructed on a foundation of hazelnuts- roasted, then roughed in a towel to help remove skins. These are ground into a gianduja paste with shaved chocolate, which she would normally prepare in her food processor, but today she would rather smash it together by hand, using a meat tenderizer on a chopping block. She pounds away and only stops when she hears something that turns out to be Nina's voice on the answering machine: "Ven, Avis, you ignoring me? Contesta el telefono! I know you're there. Ay, you know what- you're totally impossible to work for..." Avis starts pounding again. Her assistants never last more than a year or two before something like this happens. They go stale, she thinks: everything needs to be turned over. Composted. She feels invigorated, punitive and steely as she moves through the steps of the recipe. It was from one of her mother's relatives, perhaps even Avis's grandmother- black bittersweets- a kind of cookie requiring slow melting in a double boiler, then baking, layering, and torching, hours of work simply to result in nine dark squares of chocolate and gianduja tucked within pieces of 'pate sucree.' The chocolate is a hard, intense flavor against the rich hazelnut and the wisps of sweet crust- a startling cookie. Geraldine theorized that the cookie must have been invented to give to enemies: something exquisitely delicious with a tiny yield. The irony, from Avis's professional perspective was that while one might torment enemies with too little, it also exacted an enormous labor for such a small revenge.”

CookiesBakingBittersweetDark ChocolateAvis MuirHazelnutGianduja
Book:Birds of Paradise
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“If I couldn't escape the guilt, there was nothing left to do but lean into it. And leaning into it is what led me to grabbing the forty dollars my mom leaves out in the front to order food if I ever need it, schlepping miserably down to the bodega, and collecting everything I needed to make Paige's infamous So Sorry Blondies from the summer before she left for college. I pull them out of the oven now, the smell wafting through the kitchen---the brown sugar and butter and toffee against the richness of the dark chocolate chips and toffee against the pockets of dark chocolate caramel sauce. A little bitter and a little sweet.”

BakingBittersweetDark ChocolateBlondies
Book:Tweet Cute
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“Some things are exactly how we leave them. Years go by and we long, passion builds, loss extends and we miss forbidden memories. Every once in awhile I long for what used to be instead of what is. I remember how I left it, last words said, how your voice echoes. It’s not sadness. It’s not quite happiness. It was bittersweet. Things were bittersweet. I still think of it quite often and wonder if the memories for you ever soften.”

TimePassionMemoriesThoughtsLooking BackBittersweetBack Then
Author:Dominic Riccitello
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“If Molly were here, she'd tell Sabrina how this was the perfect end to her love story. The villain had been defeated, the couple was together, and there was a party with fancy clothes and good food and plenty of music. But happily ever afters in real life were very different from the movies. The pain and loss and difficulties didn't disappear. With every joy came the reminder that someone wasn't there to share the moment. Real happily ever afters were flavored with bitter and sweet. With Ray by her side, Sabrina wanted to taste it all.”

RealityTrue LoveBittersweetHappily Ever Afters
Book:The Kindred Spirits Supper Club
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“Anne's Will by Stewart Stafford Young Shakespeare set off to London town, To quill and ink his masterpiece plays, Still, Anne Hathaway grew anxious; Marriage and family rent twain ways. He vowed to send back funds to them, With a fledgling kiss, Will was gone, Tearful goodbyes of wife and daughters, Stratford shrank, cartwheels spun. The distance honeyed homesickness, The farther from hearth Will roamed, The capital's theatres awaited him; Words etched in stone in folio tome. The absentee bard kept his word true; Admirably providing for kin well, Through a bitter, lonely aftertaste, With only one truism to tell: "For, aye, where'er there was a Will, Truly, good Anne always hath a way." © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

FamilyMarriageSacrificeAmbitionPerseveranceHistorical FictionSonnetShakespeareBittersweetHomesickness
Author:Stewart Stafford
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