Strawberry Quotes

When I was a little girl my mom would make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch at least three times a week, crusts cut off, sliced twice on the bias for triangles for me, and into long fingers for Gilly. I eventually moved from smooth peanut butter and grape jelly to chunky peanut butter and strawberry preserves to fresh natural peanut butter with homemade damson plum jam or peach coriander confiture. ~ Stacey Ballis

Kid 1: *examining my gorgeous strawberry and blueberry pies*: Wow, Mom, your pies don't look awful this time.
Me (Ilona): ...

~A little later~

Kid 2: *wandering into the kitchen*
Kid 1: Hey, you've got to see these pies. *opening the stove*
Kid 2: Wow. They are not ugly this time.
Kid 1: I know, right? ~ Ilona Andrews

A small crowd had gathered to gaze at the astonishing display of color: vivid blues; regal purples; soft, candy-floss pinks; strawberry reds; vibrant lime greens; sun-bright, buttercup yellows; rich oranges; and creamy, vanilla whites. Tilly's eyes were unable to take it all in, her mouth unable to suppress a smile of sheer delight. It was as if someone had poured a box of paints onto this one street, leaving nothing with which to brighten up the drab gray of the rest of the city she had just passed. ~ Hazel Gaynor

I've been developing killer updated versions of things like Black Forest cake, now with bittersweet devil's food cake, a dried-cherry conserve, and whipped vanilla creme fraiche. I've perfected a new carrot cake, adding candied chunks of parsnips and rum-soaked golden raisins to the cake and mascarpone to the frosting. And my cheeky take on homemade Pop-Tarts will be available in three flavors- blueberry, strawberry, and peanut butter and jelly- and I've even ordered fun little silver Mylar bags to pack them in. ~ Stacey Ballis

You've gotta taste the light, like my friend and fellow shooter Chip Maury says. And when you see light like this, trust me, it's like a strawberry sundae with sprinkles. ~ Joe McNally

I was introduced to the world of modern food production in the mid-1990s, while researching an article about California's strawberry industry for the 'Atlantic Monthly.' ~ Eric Schlosser

How did we get here? How, like Tootle the Train, did we get so off track? Perhaps it's time to revisit these beloved stories and start all over again. Trying to figure out where you belong, like Scuffy the Tugboat? Maybe, as time marches on, you're beginning to feel that you resemble the Saggy Baggy Elephant.
Or perhaps your problems are more sweeping. Like the Poky Little Puppy, do you seem to be getting into trouble rather often and missing out on the strawberry shortcake of life? Maybe this book can help you! After all, Little Golden Books were first published during the dark days of World War II, and they've been comforting people during trying times ever since - while gently teaching us a thing or two. And they remind us that we've had the potential to be wise and content all along. ~ Diane Muldrow

Good morning! The sun is up! Wake up! Time to eat," said the birds.
"Good morning," Ashlynn said back.
There was a clink of glass slippers against the wood floor, and then her mother appeared in the doorway. She had the same strawberry-blond hair and green eyes as Ashlynn. Her mother was already dressed, but Ashlynn didn't notice the clothes she was wearing. As always, her eyes went right to the glass slippers. Oh, how she loved those shoes.
"Chores, dear!" her mother said, leaning over to kiss the top of Ashlynn's head. "And then you should pack."
"Yes, Mother!"
Ashlynn washed her face, put on an apron, and then opened wide the door to her shoe closet. This princess wouldn't care if she wore a burlap sack every day, so long as she had dozens of footwear choices. Today she settled on a pair of scrappy teal wedges and went to start breakfast. Even though her father's grand house came fully stocked with servants, her mother believed in good, solid, character-forming chores. After all, Ashlynn would inherit her mother's story and become the next Cinderella someday, and there would be lots of floors to mop and hearths to sweep before her Happily Ever After. ~ Shannon Hale

When I checked the other day, I found it - my strawberry patch - overgrown and hidden under weeds, but still there ... like secrets, like memories. You can make yourself believe that they have been erased. But they are there, if you look closely. If you have a wish to uncover them. ~ Linda Olsson

Strawberry Fields is anywhere you want to go ~ John Lennon

Darryl Strawberry has been voted to the Hall of Fame five years in a row. ~ Ralph Kiner

The devil is my strawberry! ~ Robert McCammon

Good luck with that, I said. Because seriously. The fuck? Strawberry social? Did I somehow move onto the set of the remake of Little House on the Prairie? ~ Susan Juby

It has been many years since I have eaten freely at my choice, fair one, and a plate of strawberries is all that I desire." - Mark Blackthorn ~ Cassandra Clare

Exactly," said Maddie. "What's your favorite flavor?"
"I bet I can guess," said Simone. "Chocolate."
"Strawberry," said Maddie.
Losers. It was vanilla.
"Vanilla," said Seth. ~ Richelle Mead

Pink reminds me of my love for dance. My youth. The innocence of being young. Tutus. Strawberry frosting on a vanilla cake (my favorite). And lipstick. I love lipstick. It also reminds me that I should take pride in my feminine traits, in being a woman. There is nothing remotely wrong with enjoying femininity. Curves. Hips. Lips. Empathy. Vulnerability. Sensuality. Patience. Intuition. ~ R.B. O'Brien

When I was seven, these kids in the alley behind our house in Omaha called me Freckleface Strawberry. I hated my freckles, and I hated that name. I thought it was humiliating in the way that only a seven-year-old could hate it. ~ Julianne Moore

We went about our usual routines - combat practice, volleyball practice, archery practice, strawberry-picking practice (don't ask), lava-wall-climbing practice ... You'll find we practice a lot here. ~ Rick Riordan

Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries. ~ Terry Pratchett

You know what I think the trick to dealing with family is? I've been thinking about this a lot lately."

"What?" I said, spreading strawberry jam on my toast.

"Marrying your best friend." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You marry your best friend, and at family gatherings you deal with your shitty relatives together. You laugh about it and have each other's backs. Share looks and text each other from across the room when everyone else is being an asshole. And nobody else really matters because you have your own universe."

He held my eyes for a moment. "That's what I want. I want someone to be my universe."

He'd have no problem finding that. No problem at all. Josh could have any woman he wanted. After all, he was the sun. Warm and vital. He would be the center of a big family one day, just like he wanted, and they'd all adore him.

And I was just some passing comet. Momentarily distracting. Useless and unimportant. I was nice to look at, fun to observe, but I'd never give life or be the center of anything.

I'd streak through and be gone, and Josh would forget me before we knew it. ~ Abby Jimenez

Dating a new man is like holding a strawberry milkshake; first the taste, then the pleasure. ~ Marilyn Monroe

You can lose a piece of plain bread and not think twice about it, but when you lose one spread thickly with strawberry jam it's an altogether more serious matter. ~ Alexander McCall Smith

It's too early for strawberries. But the clearing is filled with their leaves and their little white flowers, like fallen stars. The wishing well was covered, too, so that only someone who knew it was there would have really noticed it. It looks like a barrow under the green; somewhere fairies or goblins might live. ~ Joanne Harris

True love is when your partner will pull into a drive-through at two in the morning and not judge you as you eat french fries with a side of both strawberry thickshake and coffee. ~ Sean Kennedy

Herman and I have been doing a lot of talking about the cake the past couple of days, and we think we have a good plan for the three tiers. The bottom tier will be the chocolate tier and incorporate the dacquoise component, since that will all provide a good strong structural base. We are doing an homage to the Frango mint, that classic Chicago chocolate that was originally produced at the Marshall Field's department store downtown. We're going to make a deep rich chocolate cake, which will be soaked in fresh-mint simple syrup. The dacquoise will be cocoa based with ground almonds for structure, and will be sandwiched between two layers of a bittersweet chocolate mint ganache, and the whole tier will be enrobed in a mint buttercream.
The second tier is an homage to Margie's Candies, an iconic local ice cream parlor famous for its massive sundaes, especially their banana splits. It will be one layer of vanilla cake and one of banana cake, smeared with a thin layer of caramelized pineapple jam and filled with fresh strawberry mousse. We'll cover it in chocolate ganache and then in sweet cream buttercream that will have chopped Luxardo cherries in it for the maraschino-cherry-on-top element.
The final layer will be a nod to our own neighborhood, pulling from the traditional flavors that make up classical Jewish baking. The cake will be a walnut cake with hints of cinnamon, and we will do a soaking syrup infused with a little bit of sweet sherry. A thin layer of the thi ~ Stacey Ballis

Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry. ~ John Keats

What Claire could do with the edible flowers that grew around the cranky apple tree in the backyard was the stuff of legend. Everyone knew that if you got Claire to cater your anniversary party, she would make aioli sauce with nasturtiums and tulip cups filled with orange salad, and everyone would leave the party feeling both jealous and aroused. And if you got her to cater your child's birthday party, she would serve tiny strawberry cupcakes and candied violets and the children would all be well behaved and would take long afternoon naps. Claire had a true magic to her cooking when she used her flowers. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

But what about the apparent absurdity of the idea of dignity, freedom, and reason, sustained by extreme military discipline, including of the practice of discarding weak children? This "absurdity" is simply the price of freedom - freedom is not free, as they put it in the film [300]. Freedom is not something given, it is regained through a hard struggle in which one should be ready to risk everything. Spartan ruthless military discipline is not simply the opposite of Athenian "liberal democracy," it is its inherent condition, it lays the foundation for it: the free subject of Reason can only emerge through ruthless self-discipline. True freedom is not a freedom of choice made from a safe distance, like choosing between a strawberry cake and a chocolate cake; true freedom overlaps with necessity, one makes a truly free choice when one's choice puts at stake one's very existence - one does it because one simply "cannot do otherwise." When one's country is under foreign occupation and one is called by a resistance leader to join the fight against the occupiers, the reason given is not "you are free to choose," but: "Can't you see that this is the only thing you can do if you want to retain your dignity? ~ Slavoj Zizek

She has a laugh so hearty it knocks the whipped cream off an order of strawberry shortcake on a table fifty feet away. ~ Damon Runyon

The first strawberry is the sourest. ~ Owllover

There was currant toast squishy with butter, caramel-marshmallow squares, strawberry boats oozing custard, chocolate exclairs that exploded with cream when the cats bit into them with their little white teeth and-- a special treat for Pleasant-- a pie made from thick slices of Bramley apple, with just the right amount of tangy in the tangy-sweet. ~ Anne Michaels

Love is a strawberry blonde liar, tease-baby, princess-girl torture. ~ Mary Elizabeth

She is pissed off all the time," he mumbled and I remained silent, letting him ramble. "She wants chocolate ice cream, I go in search of chocolate, but the time I get back she's pissed because she wants strawberry instead. I can't win."
He looked me straight in the eyes and I swear his expression was one of desperation.
"It wasn't like this before. With Liam she was so sweet. But I swear the damn devil has possessed my wife and she might kill me in my sleep one night."

It was then I laughed.


"What the hell is so funny?" he asked. "I sleep with one eye open and one leg hanging off the bed touching the floor at my side. This way if I have to move fast I feel I'm one step closer."

He didn't smile. There was absolutely no humor in his words.

"Weren't you the one that said you wanted five kids?" I asked.

"I changed my mind. After this one, we're done. I want Trinity back."

Again, complete seriousness. Poor guy looked lost. And it was the best damn thing to witness. Within four months of having Liam, Trinity was pregnant again. And this time she was cranky as hell. Everyone noticed it, but she directed all that aggravation toward the man she said was to blame. And the rest of us loved to witness his hell.

"Go home, Chase," I told him and he looked as if he wanted to argue. "Stop at the store and pick up every flavor of ice cream they got," I told him. "Tell her she's beautiful and r ~ C.A. Harms

We did make use, from time to time, of candles, neckties, scarves, shoelaces, a little water-color paintbrush, her hairbrush, butter, whipped cream, strawberry jam, Johnson's Baby Oil, my Swedish hand vibrator, a fascinating bead necklace she had, miscellaneous common household items, and every molecule of flesh that was exposed to air or could be located with strenuous search. ~ Spider Robinson

your gaze
across
my cheeks

turned them
into
strawberry fields. ~ Sanober Khan

So, okay. He was basically an amalgamation of every redheaded man to ever turn my crank (and how!). And he lived in a popular gay resort town, which meant the chances were above average that he might actually be interested. Watching him trot lightly down those stairs to the beach, I realized what my objective this summer would be.
Agent Carlisle, your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to find out which of these residences belongs to Mr. Strawberry-Blond Hunka Burnin' Love and convince him to do you on every horizontal surface - and against a few of the vertical ones. ~ Amelia C. Gormley

Don't forget that for now it's strawberry season ~ Clarice Lispector

What you're saying is this spider, with a brain the size of strawberry seed, hid in your car with its face covered to avoid being gassed by insect spray." He stood in front of me, laughing, peering down into my eyes. "And then, when the fumes dispersed, he set about plotting revenge. Once he'd come up with his plan, he exited your car and, even though he didn't see which direction you went in, he found the front door because he knew you were inside this house." Biting down on his bottom lip, Ric smirked. "Don't you think, if he was as smart as all that, he'd have worn a mask before he ran out from under visor so you couldn't recognise him on your doormat? ~ Zathyn Priest

It kills me. The way he trusted. LIke the way we trusted before they came and blue the whole goddamned world apart. Trusted that when it got dark there would be light. Trusted that when you wanted a fucking strawberry Frappuccino you could plop your ass in the car, drive down the streed, and get yourself a fucking strawberry Frappuccino! ~ Rick Yancey

He (Darryl Strawberry) is not a dog; a dog is loyal and runs after balls. ~ Tommy Lasorda

He had a W.C. Fields twang and a nose like a prize strawberry. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Bags and boxes across the hot parking lot to the van. On the way back to the mall, Willa Jean, who spotted the ice-cream store that sold fifty-two flavors, told her uncle she needed an ice-cream cone. Uncle Hobart agreed that ice-cream cones were needed by all. Inside the busy shop, customers had to take numbers and wait turns. Ramona, responsible for Willa Jean, who could not read, was faced with the embarrassing task of reading aloud the list of fifty-two flavors while all the customers listened. Strawberry, German chocolate, vanilla, ginger-peachy, red-white-and-blueberry, black walnut, Mississippi mud, green bubble gum, baseball nut. ~ Beverly Cleary

The Dream smells like peppermint but tastes like strawberry shortcake. ~ Ta-Nehisi Coates

Theirs [the Beatles] is a happy, cocky, belligerently resourceless brand of harmonic primitivism ... In the Liverpudlian repertoire, the indulged amateurishness of the musical material, though closely rivaled by the indifference of the performing style, is actually surpassed only by the ineptitude of the studio production method. (Strawberry Fields suggests a chance encounter at a mountain wedding between Claudio Monteverdi and a jug band.) ~ Glenn Gould

My grandma used to make syrup for us because we couldn't afford it and I just played around with her recipe. I made strawberry syrup and that didn't really work out but I made strawberry-vanilla and that sold. Then I just went out and took marketing classes, went to seminars, learned about marketing a product and striking deals. It ended up taking orders of $1.5 million. ~ Farrah Gray

I like to make pies. That's kind of my new obsession - peach, blueberry, apple, strawberry. I make a really good pumpkin pie with real pumpkin. ~ Morgan Saylor

THE CRUST OF the bread was golden and crisp as Annie pulled it from the oven, setting it on a rack to cool. She stood back and looked at the bounty she'd been able to pull together, satisfied and proud. Ham, chicken-and-corn pudding, mashed potatoes, green bean salad, baked squash, strawberry pie. A good wife, she thought. A ~ Rae Meadows

creamy poppy seed and she loved the strawberry-spinach salad's crunchy sweetness. She enjoyed a few bites uninterrupted, grateful she could eat at all with Byron nearby. His knee rubbed against hers and the bite of spinach stuck in her throat. She swallowed then glanced up. Their gazes met and tangled, an entire conversation passed between them, almost without her permission. The earnestness and warmth of his look was a dagger through her abdomen. How could she still love him so much? She knew who he was, what he was. He wasn't future husband material and never would be. When he was eighty he'd still be smoking hot and still have women crawling all over him. The waitress came to request their drink orders. She nodded to Marissa's request of a lemon for her water and fawned all over Byron as he ordered lemonade. "She's ~ Cami Checketts

All this talkin' about eatin' is makin' me awful hungry. I'll have two chili burgers with an order of fries, onion rings and a chocolate milk shake. And a Strawberry Ice Cream Sundae-with pickles. ~ George Lindsey

How strange the popsicle, the vanilla night, the night of close-packed ice cream, of mosquito-lotioned wrists, the night of running children suddenly veered from their games and put away behind glass, behind wood, the popsicles in melting puddles of lime and strawberry where they fell when the children were scooped indoors. ~ Ray Bradbury

Clary squinted at it. 'Is it going to turn me into a rodent?'
'Where's the trust? I think it's strawberry juice,' Isabelle said. 'Anyway, it's yummy. Jace?' She offered him the glass.
'I am a man,' he told her, 'and men do not consume pink beverages. Get thee gone, woman, and bring me something brown.'
'Brown?' Isabelle made a face.
'Brown is a manly color,' said Jace, and yanked on a stray lock of Isabelle's hair with his free hand. 'In fact, look- Alec is wearing it. ~ Cassandra Clare

But this room looked like it had been decorated by the unholy lovechild of Barbie and Strawberry Shortcake. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Extremely ripe things are not ideal for pickling. If you pour a hot liquid over super ripe strawberries, you're going to have strawberry soup. ~ Wylie Dufresne

Okay. Fine. Why are you disappointed in me, Cletus?"

"Because I provided means and opportunity. All you had to do was exploit the situation."

"What are you talking about?"

"On Friday? With the blankets and coffee? You think that was all by accident? That was arranged."

"Arranged?" I blinked at him while he tore off another piece of his doughnut. It smelled like it was strawberry flavored.

"Yes. Arranged."

Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms and examined Cletus. I decided he was odd. "You're odd."

"Yes. I am. But that doesn't negate the fact that you fumbled my pass. If we're going to make this thing happen with Jethro, I need you to bring your A-game."

"This is about Jethro?" I sat up straighter.

"Of course. What'd you think I was talking about?" Apparently I wasn't catching on quickly enough because he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes with great effect. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, yes, yes," I said quickly, leaning forward at full attention. "Yes. I want your help."

"Fine then. We need to coordinate our attack." Cletus punctuated this statement by popping the remainder of the first doughnut in his mouth.

"Good. Yes. Attack synchronization." My phone rang as he chewed. I glanced at the screen, saw it was Marta, and sent it to voicemail.

Marta called back immediately, earning me a severe frown from Cletus.

"Y ~ Penny Reid

The strawberry grows underneath the nettle And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality. ~ William Shakespeare

She had made a cheddar-and-parsley roulade. Lina had made a lentil goulash, plus almond-and-white-chocolate blondies. Emmeline had made two different types of risotto. Erin had made lamb-and-asparagus mini pies and a strawberry-and-spinach salad. Renni had made bread-and-butter pudding using chocolate croissants. Andrea had made a hearty beef goulash plus zucchini with feta and mint. Sash had made a giant pumpkin cheesecake. The kitchen was a kaleidoscope of smells. ~ Lara Williams

When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty. I mean the heart pleasure you get from looking at speckled leaves or the palimpsested bark of plane trees in Provence. There was something richly appealing to her color combination, the ginger snaps floating in the milk-white skin, the golden highlights in the strawberry hair. it was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors. ~ Jeffrey Eugenides

Nevertheless"

you've seen a strawberry
that's had a struggle; yet
was, where the fragments met,

a hedgehog or a star-
fish for the multitude
of seeds. What better food

than apple seeds - the fruit
within the fruit - locked in
like counter-curved twin

hazelnuts? Frost that kills
the little rubber-plant -
leaves of kok-sagyyz-stalks, can't

harm the roots; they still grow
in frozen ground. Once where
there was a prickley-pear -

leaf clinging to a barbed wire,
a root shot down to grow
in earth two feet below;

as carrots from mandrakes
or a ram's-horn root some-
times. Victory won't come

to me unless I go
to it; a grape tendril
ties a knot in knots till

knotted thirty times - so
the bound twig that's under-
gone and over-gone, can't stir.

The weak overcomes its
menace, the strong over-
comes itself. What is there

like fortitude! What sap
went through that little thread
to make the cherry red! ~ Marianne Moore

They all went out by a private door and found themselves in a smaller but gorgous room. The Prince tapped on the table and instantly two menials in red tunics appeared.
Bring three glasses of champaigne commanded the prince and some ices he added majestikally. The goods appeared as if by majic and the prince drew out a cigar case and passed it round.
One grows weary of Court Life he remarked.
Ah yes agreed the earl.
It upsets me said the prince lapping up his strawberry ice all I want is peace and quiut and a little fun and here I am tied down to this life he said taking off his crown being royal has many painfull drawbacks. ~ Daisy Ashford

If you keep my secret, this strawberry is yours. ~ Tsugumi Ohba

The saucy Miss Tottenham slipped the strawberry into her delectable mouth, all the while looking at Cyrus. His thigh muscles tensed inside the velvet prison of his breeches. Hot pleasure shot through his body at the sight of the red berry slipping through her lips. Adding to his misery, a spurt of juice from the tender morsel painted her bottom lip red. He nearly groaned.
Tradition named the apple as the fruit of man's downfall, but tonight he'd argue mightily for the dangers of a ripe strawberry on a certain woman's lips. ~ Gina Conkle

From the passenger seat Kitty sighs heavily and rests her head against the window.
"What's up with you?" Peter asks.
"The bridesmaids won't let me go on the bachelorette night," she says. "I'm the only one left out."
I narrow my eyes at the back of her head.
"That's bullshit!" Peter looks at me in the rearview mirror. "Why won't you guys let her go?"
"We're going to a karaoke bar! We can't bring Kitty in because she's too young. Honestly, I think I was barely allowed to go."
"Why can't you guys just go to a restaurant like we're doing?"
"Because that's not a real bachelorette."
Peter rolls his eyes. "It's not like you guys are going to a strip club or something--wait, did you change your mind? Are you going to a strip club?"
"No!"
"Then what's the big deal? Just go somewhere else."
"Peter, it's not my decision. You'll have to take it up with Kristen." I smack the back of Kitty's arm. "Same goes for you, you little fiend! Quit trying to weasel your way in by manipulating Peter. He has no power here."
"Sorry, kid," Peter says.
Kitty slumps in her seat and then straightens. "What if I came to the bachelor night instead?" she suggests. "Since you're just going to a restaurant?"
Peter stutters, "Uh--uh, I don't know, I'd have to talk to the guys…"
"So you'll ask? Because I like steak too. I like it so much. I'll order steak with a baked potato on the side, and for dessert I'll have a strawberry sundae with ~ Jenny Han

I have a lot of regrets about what I've done. If I had to do it over again, I never would have left the Mets. I'm very thankful for all that Mr. (George) Steinbrenner did for me when I was with the Yankees, but I wish I had stayed in New York with the Mets. ~ Darryl Strawberry

Her strawberry hair bounced when she walked, her chin tilted upward when she saw us, and her body was the most perfectly fuckable thing to ever grace the earth. ~ C.D. Reiss

I shake my head at his largesse, and I frown as a scene from Tess crosses my mind: the strawberry scene. It evokes my dream. To hell with Dr. Flynn - Freud would have a field day - and then he'd probably die trying to deal with Fifty Shades. ~ E.L. James

Strawberries were too delicate to be picked by machine. The perfectly ripe ones bruised at even too heavy a human touch. It hit her then that every strawberry she had ever eaten - every piece of fruit - had been picked by calloused human hands. Every piece of toast with jelly represented someone's knees, someone's aching back and hips, someone with a bandanna on her wrist to wipe away the sweat. Why had no one told her about this before? ~ Alison Luterman

A life with Ren was harder to picture. We didn't look as if we belonged together. It was like matching up Ken with Strawberry Shortcake. He needed Barbie. ~ Colleen Houck

I try to drink a bottle of water a day, and I love Kiwi Strawberry Snapple. ~ Kendall Jenner

Color - that's another thing people don't expect. In her imagination, in her dreams, everything has color. The museum buildings are beige, chestnut, hazel. Its scientists are lilac and lemon yellow and fox brown. Piano chords loll in the speaker of the wireless in the guard station, projecting rich blacks and complicated blues down the hall toward the key pound. Church bells send arcs of bronze careening off the windows. Bees are silver; pigeons are ginger and auburn and occasionally golden. The huge cypress trees she and her father pass on their morning walk are shimmering kaleidoscopes, each needle a polygon of light.
She has no memories of her mother but imagines her as white, a soundless brilliance. Her father radiates a thousand colors, opal, strawberry red, deep russet, wild green; a smell like oil and metal, the feel of a lock tumbler sliding home, the sound of his key rings chiming as he walks. He is an olive green when he talks to a department head, an escalating series of oranges when he speaks to Mademoiselle Fleury from the greenhouses, a bright red when he tries to cook. He glows sapphire when he sits over his workbench in the evenings, humming almost inaudibly as he works, the tip of his cigarette gleaming a prismatic blue. ~ Anthony Doerr

It's because she doesn't have eyelashes," Daisy said.
Iris turned to her with complete calm and said, "I hate you."
"That's a terrible thing to say, Daisy," Honoria said, turning on
her with a stern expression. It was true that Iris was extraordinarily
pale, with the kind of strawberry blond hair that seemed to render
her lashes and brows almost invisible. But she'd always thought Iris
was absolutely gorgeous, almost ethereal-looking.
"If she didn't have eyelashes, she'd be dead," Sarah said.
Honoria turned to her, unable to believe the direction of the
conversation. Well, no, that was not completely accurate. She
believed it (unfortunately). She just didn't understand it.
"Well, it's true," Sarah said defensively. "Or at the very least,
blind. Lashes keep all the dust from our eyes."
"Why are we having this conversation?" Honoria wondered
aloud.
Daisy immediately answered, "It's because Sarah said she
didn't think Iris could look venomous, and then I said - "
"I know," Honoria cut in, and then, when she realized Daisy still
had her mouth open, looking as if she was only waiting for the right
moment to complete her sentence, she said it again. "I know. It was
a hypothetical question."
"It still had a perfectly valid answer," Daisy said with a sniff. ~ Julia Quinn

And yeah, put out as I can be with Mama 'bout a lotta things, I gotta admit she gets all the credit for getting me interested in cooking when I was just knee-high to a grasshopper. Gladys never seemed to give a damn about it when we were kids, which I guess is why she and that family of hers nourish themselves today mainly on KFC and Whoppers and junk like that. But me, I couldn't keep my eyes off Mama when she'd fix a mess of short ribs, or cut out perfect rounds of buttermilk biscuit dough with a juice glass, or spread a thick, real shiny caramel icing over her 1-2-3-4 cakes. And I can remember like it was yesterday (must have been about 4 years old at the time) when she first let me help her bake cookies, especially the same jelly treats I still make today and could eat by the dozen if I didn't now have better control.
"Honey, start opening those jars on the counter," she said while she creamed butter and sugar with her Sunbeam electric hand mixer in the same wide, chipped bowl she used to make for biscuit dough. Strawberry, peach, and mint- the flavors never varied for Mama's jelly treats, and just the idea of making these cookies with anything but jelly and jam she'd put up herself the year before would have been inconceivable to Mama. ~ James Villas

It was as if Strawberry Shortcake fucked Winston Churchill, and nine months later, Shannon Walsh was born. ~ Kate Canterbary

Maddy showed up around eleven to drop off Scarlet and take me dress shopping. She used her mom skills to get me off the couch.
"Hey, pumpkin, I'll get you a strawberry shake if you get up now," she whispered, stroking my head. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? A big strawberry shake from Burger King. Does that sound good?"
"Can I have whipped cream too?" I asked with my eyes still closed.
"Sure, sweetie."
Tempted by a promised reward, I shuffled after her. ~ Bijou Hunter

Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And nobody to munch on it with ~ Francesca Lia Block

Beauty Killer"

If I can't be beautiful.. I'd rather just die.

So self-obsessed with my mascara and mistakes.
Vanity's like a funeral an everyone's at my wake.
Before I run out of air there's more makeup to apply.
Doll eyes stare into Valium colored skies...

I gotta sweet tooth and strawberry youth.
You wanna be my licorice and misguided truth.
And right now - I'll show you how.. I'm a beauty killer.

Rhinestone my eyes closed and please fix my hair.
This concealer can't hide all my pink nightmares.
Before I run out of air there's more makeup to apply.
Doll eyes stare into Valium colored skies.

I almost died but it felt great.
Faking perfection wasn't worth the wait.
I may be easy, easy to hate.
But you're so fucking easy.. easy to break.

I gotta sweet tooth and strawberry youth.
You wanna be my licorice and misguided truth.
And right now - I'll show you how.. I'm a beauty killer.

I almost died but it felt great.
Faking perfection wasn't worth the wait.
I may be easy, easy to hate.
But you're so fucking easy.. easy to break.

Tell me your secrets and ill tell you my lies.
Everything is monotone in my dead eyes.
If I cant be beautiful..I'd rather just die.
I'm a beauty killer.

I gotta sweet tooth and strawberry youth.
You wanna be my licorice and misguided truth.
And right now - ~ Jeffree Star

I choose you too, if you still want me. I'm a selfish man. Your crazy rainbow life brightens mine and I just can't walk away. I love your strawberry hair, and your weekday knickers, and your beautiful size thirteen ass that feels like heaven in my hands.' His hand slid down her back and she leaned into him, yearning. 'You make me laugh, and you make me goddamn furious. You're fucking fearless, Honey.' He paused at last and drew in a deep breath.
'I can't be happy unless you're with me,' Hal said. 'I want to try to make you happy, if you want me to. ~ Kat French

Cold Mountain Buddhas Han Shan Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness be dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. ~ T. S. Eliot

In the months that followed my mother's death, I managed to look like a normal person. I walked the street; I answered my phone; I brushed my teeth; most of the time. But I was not OK. I was in grief. Nothing seemed important. Daily tasks were exhausting. Dishes piled in the sink, knives crusted with strawberry jam. At one point I did not wash my hair for ten days. I felt that I had abruptly arrived at a terrible, insistent truth about the impermanence of everyday. ~ Meghan O'Rourke

A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted! ~ Gautama Buddha

The average strawberry has about 200 seeds. ~ Fruit Ninja

Churros are like long Mexican doughnut sticks that have been fried and dipped in cinnamon or, as the sign tells me, strawberry sugar. They smell like God's footprints. I've never had a real churro, but halfway down the promenade, I make a decision to give up on everything: finding Alex, finding another job, the meaning of life. Just give me that sweet fried dough. ~ Jenn Bennett

The night is a strawberry. ~ Louise Penny

She couldn't see the homemade colored sprinkles, the tender yellow cake, or the pale pink frosting made with strawberry syrup enhanced with a little rosewater. Although our local strawberries weren't in season yet, I had conjured the aroma and taste of juicy berries warmed by the sun. I hoped this flavor would help the two old people return once more to their youth and the carefree feeling of a summer day. ~ Judith Fertig

I've got it all in here ultra violets, flying saucers, strawberry bootlace come on get involved.. ~ Noel Fielding

There is nothing particularly wrong with salmon, of course, but like caramel candy, strawberry yogurt, or liquid carpet cleaner, if you eat too much of it you are not going to enjoy your meal. ~ Lemony Snicket

He put an arm around me and helped me across the lawn into the passenger's seat. The inside was red and white as a strawberry sundae, with black analog gauges. It was inefficient and sprawling; it screamed of hubris and excess and obsolescence; it was America on wheels. ~ Mishell Baker

They entered the summer parlor, where the Ravenels chatted amiably with his sisters, Phoebe and Seraphina.
Phoebe, the oldest of the Challon siblings, had inherited their mother's warm and deeply loving nature, and their father's acerbic wit. Five years ago she had married her childhood sweetheart, Henry, Lord Clare, who had suffered from a chronic illness for most of his life. The worsening symptoms had gradually reduced him to a shadow of the man he'd once been, and he'd finally succumbed while Phoebe was pregnant with their second child. Although the first year of mourning was over, Phoebe hadn't yet returned to her former self. She went outdoors so seldom that her freckles had vanished, and she looked wan and thin. The ghost of grief still lingered in her gaze.
Their younger sister, Seraphina, an effervescent eighteen-year-old with strawberry-blonde hair, was talking to Cassandra. Although Seraphina was old enough to have come out in society by now, the duke and duchess had persuaded her to wait another year. A girl with her sweet nature, her beauty, and her mammoth dowry would be targeted by every eligible man in Europe and beyond. For Seraphina, the London Season would be a gauntlet, and the more prepared she was, the better. ~ Lisa Kleypas

She had a woman's swagger at twelve-and-a-half. Hair: strawberry-blonde, and I vaguely recall a daisy in the crook of her ear. She was an inch taller than me, two with the ponytail; smooth cheeks and darling brown eyes that marbled in luscious contrast with her magnolia skin; cream, melting to peach, melting to pink. She beamed like a cherub without the baby fat; a tender neck; pristine lips that would never part for a dirty word. Her body
of no interest to me at the time
was wrapped from neck to toes with home-made footie pajamas, the kind they make for toddlers, but I didn't laugh; the girl filled that silly one-piece ensemble as if it were couture. ~ Jake Vander Ark

Holy shit, Strawberry Shortcake just ran me over. ~ J. Lynn

How can you love me?" she asked, forcing herself to say the words that would kill the tenderness in his eyes. "You don't even know me. You know 'Lady Agatha,' a composite, a character, a role I played."

He shook his head, his negation gentle but certain. "I didn't fall in love with a character, a title, or an occupation. I didn't fall in love with you because of your past or despite it.
"I love you because of your intensity and passion, because you make me want to be better than I am, because seeing my reflection in your eyes makes me better than I am. I love you because you laugh easily and honestly. I love you because you carried an ugly mutt into a drawing room as though it were a prince and because you gave an old soldier a strawberry trifle. I love you, Letty. ~ Connie Brockway

Ryan held a strawberry milkshake in one hand, his father's ashes in the other--and hoped like hell he didn't get them mixed up. ~ Tina Vaughn

You know,' said Natasha, 'you have read the Gospels a great deal - there is one place there directly about Sonya.' 'What?' asked Countess Marya, surprised. '"To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away." You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I feel so terribly sorry for her. I used to want Nicolas to marry her so terribly before; but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not happen. She is a sterile flower, you know - like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would. ~ Leo Tolstoy

Sky,

Hopefully by the time you're reading this (because I know you won't read it right away) I'll be madly in love with a hot Italian boyfriend and not thinking about you at all.

But I know that isn't the case, because I'll be thinking about you all the time.

I'll be thinking about all the nights we stayed up with our ice cream and our movies and our boys. But mostly, I'll be thinking about you, and all the reasons why I love you.

Just to name a few: I love how you suck at goodbyes and feelings and emotions, because I do, too. I love how you always scoop from the strawberry and vanilla side of the ice cream because you know how much I love the chocolate, even though you love it, too. I love how you aren't weird and awkward, despite the fact that you've been severely cut off from socialization to the point where you make the Amish look trendy.

But most of all, I love that you don't judge me. I love that in the past four years, you've never once questioned me about my choices (as poor as they may be) or the guys I've been with or the fact that I don't believe in commitment. I would say that it's simple for you not to judge me, because you're a dirty slut, too. But we both know you're not. So thank you for being a non-judgmental friend. Thank you for never being condescending or treating me like you're better than me (even though we both know you are.) As much as I can laugh about the things people say about us behind our ba ~ Colleen Hoover

The only vampires I've ever seen are the Goths trying to get a glimpse of Anne Rice's house, who drink strawberry sodas and tell each other it's blood. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Evan …" she murmured, wrapping her soft arms around his neck. Their position had her lips near his ear. She'd lost her headband somewhere. He could smell the strawberry of her shampoo, feel the tickle of her sluggish breath stirring his hair. "Evan."

"Kelsey. Move over here, lie down."

She pulled back slightly, her bleary eyes trying to focus on his. The weight of her head still seemed too much for her neck to support and her hair flowed over his arm. "Evan, I always liked you."

"I always liked you, too, honey." The way she kept saying his name in that intoxicated purr, savoring the v between her teeth and her bottom lip, was unnerving. Unnerving, hell. It had his dick twitching in his pants. "Come on, girl, you need to sleep it off."

"I mean I like liked you."

[…] Her hands caught his face, surprising him. He should have moved away from her long ago, before she could get her hands on him. As it was, he felt like a fly caught in the sticky gossamer of a spider's den. "Always wanted to fuck you, y'know that? Even when I was a virgin."

He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.

Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk. ~ Cherrie Lynn

He looked at her, in her red plaid skirt and strawberry T-shirt, a woman not yet thirty, who loved neither her husband nor her children, who had already fallen out of love with life. ~ Jhumpa Lahiri

Everyone absolutely knows what a strawberry tastes like, even if you are allergic to them. Everyone absolutely knows what the toilet flushing sounds like. Everyone absolutely scratches their mosquito bites. And I know that I was absolutely ready to die. This wasn't a cry for help. I didn't want to be saved. I was ready to call it quits. Done. Terminado. ~ Kimberly Russell

He had strawberry blond hair. That's enough right there. That's all you need to know. If you're a man with strawberry blond hair and you're not in the circus or a Viking, odds are you have not found your place in life and never will. ~ Paul Neilan

Nicole lay where he'd put her, still unconscious, her long strawberry-blond locks spilling over the grass like blood, her bottom lip swollen from biting it. He gathered her in his arms, aware that he hadn't held a female this way since his mate. But Terese had been smaller. Lighter. Much more fragile. And where Terese had smelled of rose water, Nicole's warm skin carried a hint of crisp pears. What. The. Hell. Why in the world was he comparing the two? They were opposites. Human and vampire. Tall and petite. Evil slaver and innocent victim. ~ Larissa Ione

Excerpt from page 3 of "Wicked Washington"
Shelly Williams, the main character, speaking about her life:
And close and dangerous calls were almost my last name. Yet I felt as comfortable among the street hustlers, junkies, thieves, and criminals of D.C. as I did dining with my
white-collar, college-pedigreed friends over filet mignon, Maine lobster, and strawberry cheesecake at LaMermaid
Seafood Restaurant. ~ Sonja D. Jones