The longer I live, the more I have the feeling like God looks down, like when you've just bitten into a vanilla ice cream cone, you just get the feeling God's going, 'Yes! He enjoys it, and I made his taste buds and I made vanilla and he's putting it together and he's experiencing what I created him to experience.
Definitely, as I get older and my taste buds change, I want to do different things. I'm not ready for directing yet, you know, maybe when I get my big boy voice; I don't have that yet, but right now definitely producing for sure.
But buds will be roses, and kittens, cats - more's the pity.
Children are sweet as the buds in spring, But I've noticed that those who have them Have nothing but trouble all their lives.
Still more labyrinthine buds the rose.
Penance to be sure must be used as a tool, in due times and places, as need may be. If the flesh, being too strong, kicks against the spirit, penance takes the rod of discipline, and fast, and the cilice of many buds, and mighty vigils; and places burdens enough on the flesh, that it may be more subdued. But if the body is weak, fallen into illness, the rule of discretion does not approve of such a method.
The American Beauty Rose can be produced in the splendor and fragrance which bring cheer to its beholder only by sacrificing the early buds which grow up around it. This is not an evil tendency in business. It is merely the working-out of a law of nature and a law of God.
Never yet was a springtime, when the buds forgot to bloom.
The donning of the ear buds marks the beginning of teen life, when children set off on their own for the passage through adolescence.
We have developed a culture in which we eat with our taste buds, not our brains.
Bring the buds of the hazel-copse, Where two lovers kissed at noon; Bring the crushed red wild-thyme tops Where they murmured under the moon.
You will find that your taste buds have a memory of about 3 weeks.
There buds the promise of celestial worth.
When the long, varnished buds of beech Point out beyond their reach, And tanned by summer suns Leaves of bright bryony turn bronze, And gossamer floats bright and wet From trees that are their own sunset, Spring, summer, autumn I come here, And what is there to fear? And yet I never lose the feeling That someone else behind is stealing Or else in front has disappeared; Though nothing I have seen or heard, Makes me still walk beneath these boughs With cautious step as in a haunted house.
I’m a complicated man, with complicated taste buds.
Where unwilling dies the rose; buds the new another year.
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
'Vacation' means titillating my taste buds.
Revolution is a phase, a mood, like spring, and just as spring has its buds and showers, so revolution has its ebullience, its bravery, its hope, and its solidarity. Some of these things pass.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds To darken nature and be summer woods.
