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Sweet Quotes

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Sweet Quotes

“I was pretty nervous when I met Robert DeNiro. I kind of felt like a kid in a candy store for the first time. I couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. But Bobby DeNiro was really, really sweet and made me feel very comfortable. He's very low-key and just a superstar professional, and totally someone to be admired.”

FeelsFirstsKindMadeKidsFacesFeltSweetKeysMetsComfortableLowsFirst TimeStoresNervousCandyWipeSuperstarLow KeyReally SweetCandy Stores
Author:Yvonne Strahovski
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“[Concerning the Water Ouzel, now called American Dipper:] In a general way his music is that of the streams refined and spiritualized. The deep booming notes of the falls are in it, the trills of rapids, the gurgling of margin eddies, the low whispering of level reaches, and the sweet tinkle of separate drops oozing from the ends of mosses and falling into tranquil pools.”

WayEndsFallWaterLevelsSweetMusic IsLowsNotesStreamsPoolRapidsMarginsRefinedWhisperingTranquilMossTrill
Author:John Muir
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“The wind has a language, I would I could learn! Sometimes 'tis soothing, and sometimes 'tis stern, Sometimes it comes like a low sweet song, And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along, And the forest is lull'd by the dreamy strain, And slumber sinks down on the wandering main, And its crystal arms are folded in rest, And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.”

SometimesSongLanguageGrowsSoundSleepSweetWindArmsLowsAll ThingsCalmForestsShipsWanderBreastsTallStrainFloatsCrystalsSoothingSlumberDreamyLullsTall Ships
Author:Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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“The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns; The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown, And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort, And mar the face of beauty, when no cause For such immeasurable woe appears; These Flora banishes, and gives the fair Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own.”

GivingEyeFacesFeltCausesSadnessSweetLowsFairsRingsMarsReignWoeTransientSullenFloraSpleenSweet SmilePetulance
Book:William Cowper: The Task and Selected Other Poems
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“Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; There as I passed, with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came soften'd from below; The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.”

MindChildrenMadeSchoolYoungSoundVoiceStepsWatchesLaughingDogSweetWindLowsRoseNotesConfusionEveningHillsLoudSpokesVillageShadePoolPausesSoberCarelessHerdsWhisperingGeeseNoisyVacantNightingalesMingling
Author:Oliver Goldsmith
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“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.]”

PoetryPowerfulCommonNumbersCrimeSweetLowsFlowUnionsErrorsEaseSubtleCheeksRhymeSoarConfinedPolishedPoignantCrimsonCommon LifeSportive
Author:Aulus Persius Flaccus
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“Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.”

LittlesMotherFatherWaterSleepSeaDyingSweetWindMoonLowsWestWesternBlowBreatheTheeBreastsSilverRollingSailNestsBabe
Author:Alfred Lord Tennyson
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“The soul of a true christian, as I then wrote my meditations, appeared like such a little white flower as we see in the spring of the year; low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of the sun’s glory; rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture; diffusing around a sweet fragrancy; standing peacefully and lovingly, in the midst of other flowers round about; all in like manner opening their bosoms to drink in the light of the sun.”

YearsLittlesSoulLightChristianWhiteSunMeditationSweetFlowerDrinkSpringLowsGloryStandingRoundsCalmHumbleOpeningPleasantMidstRejoiceBosomsBeamRaptureWhite Flowers
Book:The Works of Jonathan Edwards
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“O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.”

KnowsMenStillsEndsLyingStuffWiseJourneyYouthMinesSonSweetLoversKissingLowsLaughterTwentiesMeetingsEndurePlentyDelayMistressHereafterKiss MeMirthUnsureWhat Is LoveHighs And LowsRoamingTwelfth Night ImportantLovers Meeting
Author:William Shakespeare
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“Here," Myrnin said, his voice still gentle and low. "Amelie said you had to work. No one said you had to work alone." He picked up the next part and slotted it in, took the screwdriver from Claire's numbed fingers, and fastened it with a couple of deft, fast movements. "I'll be your hands." She wanted to cry, because it was so sweet, but it wouldn't do any good.”

SaidStillsHandsWantedNextVoiceCryMovementSweetCoupleLowsFingersGentleClaireMyrninClaire DanversAmelieGhost TownScrewdrivers
Book:Ghost Town: The Morganville Vampires
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“I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my mouth. I swallow. It slides down my throat, it caresses me — and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me.”

ThinkingLittlesStillsLightLyingWaterSweetLowsMouthsCome UpTongueThroatPoolBrushesCaressGrazing
Author:Jean-Paul Sartre
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