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Honey Quotes

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Honey Quotes

“You fell in love with her when she couldn't love herself. You loved her wide brown eyes that resembled the color of pure honey, and her big plump lips that were perfect enough to kiss. You loved her voice when she called your name because she couldn't fall asleep, and the silence of it all when she was long gone in her dreams. You taught her to love herself; head, toe, and everything in between. Her body, her mind and soul. Let nothing intervene.”

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Author:Altruistic Poetry
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“I am sad because I love you, because I love you so much, and because I am not a bee to buzz with you lightly. I am not a flower, not a tree, not a rain-hewn stone. I am not a storm or a cresting wave, not a thorn or a vine. I am not the sun stinging the water, not the moon on the snow. I am not a star in the dark. I am not the dew-wet wind, not the cloud-stained dawn. I am only a girl, a small, plain girl, a girl who must smear her lips in honey to be found sweet.”

SadnessLonelinessKissingHoney
Book:The Honey Month
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“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.”

JoyLaughterHoney
Book:Chalice
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“We are not wrong, perhaps, to be heedful of justice in the midst of a universe that heeds not at all; as the bee is not wrong to make honey in a world that itself can make none. But we are wrong to desire an external justice, since we know that it does not exist. Let that which is in us suffice. All is for ever being weighed and judged in our soul. It is we who shall judge ourselves; or rather, our happiness is our judge.”

SoulHappinessUniverseJusticeJudgmentInjusticeManHoneyBeeNon Existence Of Justice
Author:Maurice Maeterlinck
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“In the small village I'm from we had a very old custom. On a child's first day of school, the rabbi would give him a slate on which the first two letters of the Hebrew alphabet were written in honey. The rabbi asked the child to lick up the letters and go on to use the slate to learn to read and write. The child would always remember that learning was sweet like honey.”

LearningHoneyHebrew
Book:Fried Butter: A Food Memoir
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“She was drowning in sandalwood and sunlight. Time ceased to be more than a notion. Her lips were hers one moment. And then they were his. The taste of him on her tongue was like sun-warmed honey. Like cool water sliding down her parched throat. Like the promise of all her tomorrows in a single sigh. When she wound her fingers in his hair to draw her body against his, he stilled for breath, and she knew, as he knew, that they were lost. Lost forever. In this kiss. This kiss that would change everything.”

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Author:Renee Ahdieh
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“Crystals of old honey on her body's tongue, long hardened, were loosening in the warmth of her spilling blood, turning from grain to syrup, a slow sweet hum of wings unfurling from deep within her and looping outward, solid and multitudinous, the comb in her chest and the workers in her veins, and the hive all around her.”

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Book:Ink Blood Sister Scribe
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“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.”

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Book:A Gentleman in Moscow
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“The Town and Country Market was just a half mile from Bee's home. I used to walk there as a girl, with my sister or my cousins, or sometimes all by myself, picking purple clover flowers along the way until I had a big round bunch, which, when pressed up to your nose, smelled exactly of honey. Before the walk, we'd always beg the adults for twenty-five cents and return with pockets full of pink Bazooka bubble gum. If summer had a flavor, it was pink bubble gum.”

SummerHoneyChildhood MemoryVioletsBubblegum
Book:The Violets of March
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“Stella is next up. Her cake is striking to look at, stacked in graduated tiers, so that it almost resembles half of a bee's nest. It's lightly frosted in that naked style, the icing scraped away to reveal the edges of the sponge, cooked to perfection. A honey-colored glaze drips attractively down the sides, and small fondant bees with almond silver wings cling to the tops of the cakes; a few are even hovering on wire to look like they are flying. "I must say I've never seen a cake shaped like this. What are the flavors?" Betsy asks, and Stella beams. "It's flavored with orange zest and honey.”

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Book:The Golden Spoon
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“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.”

HoneyInsectsFunny PoemJohnny DeppAmber HeardFunny PoetryLet It BeAmber TurdFunny PoetMy Dog Stepped On A Bee
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Hey, what's that?" Jae reached past me and pulled a tub of honey butter out of the fridge. "When Adeena was coming up with your drink, I was also playing around with how I could incorporate it into one of my bakes," I said. "It's great on the scones and with the corn and cheese muffins, but I haven't been successful with any of my experiments yet." Jae glanced around the kitchen before grabbing a box of puffed rice cereal, several bags of marshmallows, and a container of mini mochi that I'd ordered but not used yet. I planned on incorporating them in a new dessert for Yuki's restaurant but hadn't had time to play around with them. "What about honey butter mochi Rice Krispies Treats? My mom likes to dip fresh ddeok in honey, so I know it'll go well with the mini mochi since they're basically the same thing. But do you think it'll be too sweet with the marshmallows?" "If I brown the butter and add a good pinch of salt, that should balance everything out," I said, picturing the flavor combinations in my head. "Or maybe some shiro miso for extra umami?”

HoneyButterFlavor CombosRice KrispiesMarshmallows
Book:Death and Dinuguan
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“I ignored their banter because my mind was still stuck on what Jae said about creating something crunchy but not too sweet with the honey butter. We didn't do deep-frying at the Brew-ha Cafe, so that was out. I could maybe incorporate our honey butter into a biscotti, but that didn't really excite me. Unless... "Biscocho!" "Is that like a Filipino version of eureka? You look like you've had some kind of revelation," Adeena said. "I mean, I did have a lightbulb moment, but biscocho isn't some exclamation. It's like a budget Filipino version of biscotti, using day-old pandesal. Jae gave me the idea of trying to make a honey butter version." Jae's eyes were practically sparkling. "Crunchy honey butter snacks?" I laughed. "If it turns out well, then yes, we'll be able to serve crunchy honey butter snacks.”

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Book:Death and Dinuguan
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“The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.”

EatingBritishTeaEggsBreakfastHoneyCookiesJamGrapesBeansBananasMushroomsTomatoesEnglishBerriesSausageCerealJellyButterYogurtOatmealPrunesPineapplesOrange JuiceToastCroissantsGranolaSmoked SalmonHash BrownsBack BaconFull English Breakfast
Book:A Year of Living Prayerfully
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“For every day I have known her, she has eaten the same breakfast: sourdough toast with butter and whipped honey. She slices the golden brown toasted bread into four small squares and places them on a paper towel she has folded in half. A generous smear of softened butter goes on each piece, as thick as frosting on a cupcake, and each is then topped by a good-size dollop of whipped honey. As a child, I watched her do this hundreds of times, and now, when I'm sick, sourdough toast with butter and honey is like medicine.”

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Book:The Violets of March
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“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.”

SpeechHoneyChampagneAppetizersWedding CakeCocktailWedding BanquetTess And Dominic
Book:The Beekeeper's Ball
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“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.”

TreatsAuthenticityTeaHoneySpicesVintageHomemadeChocolatesArtisan
Book:The Summer Kitchen
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“As he lifted the leather-bound cover, the musty smell of paper rose up. He turned the first mottled leaf and looked down at an elaborately drawn image. A brimming goblet was decorated with curling vines and bunches of grapes. But instead of wine or water, the cup was filled with words. John stared at the alien symbols. He could not read. Around the goblet a strange garden grew. Honeycombs dripped and flowers like crocuses sprouted among thick-trunked trees. Vines draped themselves about their branches which bristled with leaves and bent under heavy bunches of fruit. In the far background John spied a roof with a tall chimney. His mother settled beside him. 'Palm trees...' she said. 'These are dates. Honey came from the hives and saffron came from these flowers. Grapes swelled on the vine...”

HoneyGrapesVinesMother And SonPicture BookPalm TreesSaffronIllustrationsJohn Saturnall
Book:John Saturnall's Feast
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“I plucked a sprig of rosemary from the pot in the windowsill, and as I inhaled its fresh scent, something flashed in my mind. I went to the pantry and took out a jar of wildflower honey. I held it up to make sure I had enough, and the sun lit it up like a jar of gold. There was that flash again- I almost had it, but it slipped away. I preheated the oven and mixed my ingredients. I sprinkled in the fragrant rosemary. Remember, Mimi. What have you forgotten? By the time I got the pan in the oven, Dad had come downstairs. He sniffed the air. "Rosemary, huh? What are you making?" "Rosemary-honey-olive oil muffins." "Did you add white pepper, like we talked about last time?" I grinned. "A tiny bit. Next time, do you think we should try it with goat's milk?”

BreakfastHoneyMuffinsRosemary
Book:Midsummer's Mayhem
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“Stay out of this,” she (Christy) snapped at me, wiping futilely at her cheeks. “This isn’t your business.” “When you blamed Adam, whose only fault that I can see is that he has poor taste in wives, you made it my business,” I told her. Honey cleared her throat. “You do know you are one of his wives, right?” I raised an eyebrow. “Happily, he doesn’t know how bad off he is with me—and I intend that he never will.”

HoneyMercy ThompsonChristy
Book:Night Broken
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