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Sweetness Quotes

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Sweetness Quotes

“Nothing is sweeter than being unapologetically you. Don't live your life just to impress others. Reveal your truth, Express your love, Live your dreams.”

“She reached for a tiny white dish on top of the stove. "Oops, and salt. I almost forgot salt." "Salt?" I wrinkled my nose, and then widened my eyes. "Is that your secret ingredient?" Sophie laughed. "Salt isn't a secret ingredient, doofus. Besides, you just add a pinch. Salt brings out all the flavors." She paused. "It's weird, isn't it? How something so opposite of sweet can make things taste even better?" "How does it do that?" I asked. "I don't know," Sophie answered. "It just kind of brings everything together in its own strange little way.”

“No sugared association is stronger than that between sweetness and femininity. Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Women are honey, sweetheart, cupcake, candy girl, honey-bunch--- or they're tarts. In the Bible, "The lips of an adulterous woman drip honey" (Proverbs 5:3). Meanwhile, black women have been "caramel," "brown sugar," "mocha latte," "chocolate," and "molasses,"--- both desired and diminished. Making sweet foods is considered women's work--- and eating them is too. Girls receive an Easy-Bake Oven; cake mixes are marketed exclusively to women; home bakers are overwhelmingly female. Candy and chocolate are heavily feminized that a Yorkie bar in the U.K.--- normal chocolate, massive chunks--- until recently stood out by marketing itself as "not for girls." It's not just in American and European food cultures that this holds true. I spoke to food writer and journalist Mayukh Sen about the gendering of foods within Bengali cuisine. "Sweetness is very much gendered female in Bengali cooking," he explained. "There's a word, mishti, that stands for both Bengali sweets and is also used to describe someone, usually a woman, who is 'sweet' (pleasant, youthful, and nonthreatening/demure)." In Japan, amato and karato refer to those who love sweets and those who prefer salty, savory, and spicy foods, respectively, and yet these labels loosely trace the dividing line between men and women. Jon D. Holtzman writes that a Kyoto-based confectioner--- by all accounts a man who loved his sweets--- assured him that he was more a karato kind of guy: "strong, energetic, and ambitious.”

“So long have I been subject to Love's sway And grown accustomed to his mastery That where at first his rule seemed harsh to me Sweet is his presence in my heart today. Thus when all fortitude he takes away, So that my frail spirits seem to flee, Then I am lost in sweetness utterly And pallid looks my fainting soul display. Love marshals then against me all his might;Routed, my spirits wander, murmuring, And to my lady bring Petition for new solace in my plight. Thus by her merest glance I am unmanned, And pride so humbled, none could understand.”

“Your sweet-toting and sugarcoating is of no service to anyone! Do not sugarcoat reality; it only gives the people in your life a sweet-tooth that then makes it more challenging for them to later bite down on the hardness of life. Do not tote and tout sweets either – you’re malnourishing people! Instead give them the truth. What is the truth you may ask? Authentic expression of who you really are, how you really feel, without projecting the labels of right or wrong.”

“You don't need to explain anything to me, Karl. I trust that you were a gentleman." And then he added, "Or at least I trust that you were a gentleman to as high a degree as she wanted you to be. I was a boy once too. No matter who is in power, I never want you thinking it's wrong to desire a girl's attention. That is life's greatest sweetness. I would never want to deny you that joy.”

“Giddy with each other and the wine, they strolled outside through the Presidio, the old fort now housing restaurants and galleries. Jess explained that she wanted to devise a matrix for scarcity and abundance, frugality and profligacy. She thought that sweetness represented, and in some periods misrepresented, a sense of surplus and shared pleasure. "I don't think taste is purely biological," she said. "I think it's economically, historically, and culturally constructed as well. Sweetness means different things depending on availability, custom, farming, trade..." She was shivering, and George took off his jacket. "Here, sweetness." He helped her into it and laughed at the way her hands disappeared inside the sleeves. "Context is key- so the question is, What carries over? What can we still know about sweet and sour? Bitterness. What persists from generation to generation? Do we taste the same things?" He kissed her, sucking her lower lip and then her tongue. "I think so," he said. "Yes.”

“I knelt and locked the door. I locked the door locking the world and time outside. I stretched my body across the mattress and Saskia drew in close to me and placed her open hand on my chest, her mouth near my shoulder; her breath, my breath blew out the candle, and I held my lost Wanderess with tenderness until sweet sleep overcame us.”

“In one creative thought a thousand forgotten nights of love come to life again and fill it with majesty and exaltation. And those who come together in the nights and are entwined in rocking delight perform a solemn task and gather sweetness, depth, and strength for the song of some future poet, who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable.”

“The Earth forgets sweetness, it prefers the war and trickery. But it is believed that ornate rebellion rises from the ocean, granting confidence and fervor to those prone to avidity. May we forever let the appetite for splendor and honey inspire us to be greater. To sing louder. To love sweeter.”

“May every morning for us carefree be, may every morning make us feel free, our dreams with us to be for life, like fleets of ships, in skies to sail, running rife… Our smiles to bring to others joy, hearts with sweetness filling every ploy, our life - lifelike, like on ancient tapes, to live in the moment, from youth to not escape…”

“We love with all our heart but we also keep our heart light and pliable. It has space. It breathes. It waits on life to give instructions. It sings with sweetness when the winds are soft and warm. It stands with calm patience when the storm is brewing. It lets go when endings have left their irrefutable mark. It moves. It heals. It hopes.”

“When I was a child, I associated my parents with individual flavors. It was the same way you might filter someone through a prism of color--- thinking of some people in blues, other people in reds--- but instead of color, the sensation I latched on to was flavor. My mother's flavors were always those of the desserts she made--- suave caramels and milk chocolates and the delicate, utterly feminine accents of crystallized violets or buttery almonds. But my father's flavors--- my father's flavors were something else altogether. They were subtle and elusive and melted on the tongue only to vanish before you could place them. Dark, adult flavors, and slightly bitter: veal carpaccio. silvery artichokes. And, most of all, mushrooms: chanterelles, chicken of the woods, and--- my father's favorite mushroom of all--- trumpets of death.”

“The lemons I used were pickled in salt for over two weeks!" "I knew it! You used preserved lemons!" A North African condiment, salted lemons are made by pickling whole lemons in salty brine for weeks or months. Because the entire lemon, including the peel, is pickled parts of it can be used to emphasize just about any flavor... ... be it tartness, saltiness, bitterness, freshness or mellowness! "I added the zest and pickling brine in my sponge cake, pralines and even the sauce! Its mild tartness should make the sweetness of the semifreddo stand out even more!”

“We came to a clearing and stopped. Dark green vines with oblong leaves and purple flowers in pairs grew everywhere- under our feet, around tree trunks and small shrubs, in a circle at least thirty feet wide. Fat green-eyed insects buzzed lazily around the blossoms. A heavy, luscious fragrance filled the air. "Honeysuckle!" I plucked a couple of flowers and took a moment to appreciate the dark purple petals that faded to lavender and then white at their base. I brought one to my nose and sniffed. My cousins had a vine like this at their house in India. But these blossoms were gargantuan, each one the size of my palm. I pinched off the green cap that held the petals together, pulled on the little string that was exposed, and tasted the small glob of nectar that glistened at the end. My mouth burst with sweetness.”