#honey

A bitter sweet tale of how life cannot be planned and love comes when we don’t expect it in all shapes and forms. ↗

— Annette J. Dunlea

#life

Life is but a flash of time, a momentous flicker-- in the life that we know and space we live in on earth.© VW ↗

— Virginia Wright

#buzz #buzzzzzzzzzz #childrens-books #honeybees #insects

Honey, no offense, but sometimes I think I could shoot you and watch you kick. ↗

— Raymond Carver

#intimacy #joke #kick #love #offense

Love is a boomerang dripped in honey, in that it emanates from me just as surely as it will return to me. Still, I think I’d much rather wash my hands and be done with it. 
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#honey #love #love

She texted Ava and Felicity and asked them to make informal advances to the town council and ask if she could establish AA meetings in Paradise. She sent the messages and hid the phone down her knickers again to avoid detection on room spot checks for contraband by Nurse Fiona. She laid back and slept soundly for the night. During the night a number of males had slipped their names and room numbers under her door for adult company if she was lonely at any stage, kind souls. It took two days but when Angelina was in the gym her phone in her knickers began to vibrate and she ran into the toilet to read her text messages the men that mattered from Paradise said yes to AA ↗

— Annette J dunlea

#honey-trap #irish-writer #men

Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air--moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh--felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing. Honeysuckle, swamp flowers, magnolia, and the mystery smell of the river scented the atmosphere, amplifying the intrusion of organic sleaze. It was aphrodisiac and repressive, soft and violent at the same time. In New Orleans, in the French Quarter, miles from the barking lungs of alligators, the air maintained this quality of breath, although here it acquired a tinge of metallic halitosis, due to fumes expelled by tourist buses, trucks delivering Dixie beer, and, on Decatur Street, a mass-transit motor coach named Desire. ↗

— Tom Robbins

#decatur #dixie-beer #french-quarter #honeysuckle #louisiana

They say there's no such thing as a perfect pearl - that nothing from nature can ever be truly perfect. ↗

— Beth Hoffman

#nature

A full night’s sleep without money worries was a luxury. They were afraid to answer the door to strangers as they often could not pay the rent and had no TV license. They lived in fear of been brought to court for bad debts. They became master liars and a sarcastic tongue and cheeky nature were vital survival skills people learned in Wasteside. They pretended to officials at front doors they were child minders and they refused to accept or sign anything official or registered in case it was a summons ↗

— Annette J. Dunlea

#honey-trap #irish-writer #money

When I was little, my mom tells me, I used to say things like, 'Mom do you hear the string section? Do you hear the string section?' And she would look at me and say, 'No honey, I don't know what you're talking about.' ↗

— Tori Amos

#hear #honey #i #know #like

Honey isn't really that good for you. ↗

— Erykah Badu

#honey #really #you