Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Her eyes were olive green―incisive and clear.
Call me not an olive, till thou see me gathered.
I've always wanted to have a Greek sitcom called Olive Lucy.
There is nothing hard inside the olive; nothing hard outside the nut.
Happiness is.....finding two olives in your martini when youre hungry.
Clary wondered what exactly peanut-fish-olive-tomato soup tasted like.
I have olive skin, so if I'm in the sun for even 15 minutes, I turn brown.
They can do without architecture who have no olives nor wines in the cellar.
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love.
That's silly, Anna," said the Honorable Olive. "Being afraid is silly, you know it is.
He will hear the rain before he feels it, a clicking on the dry grass, on the olive leaves.
Just as oil is present in every part of the olive, so love permeates every part of creation.
Information is a beacon, a cudgel, an olive branch, a deterrent--all depending on who wields it and how.
Ah, Caviar! I keep on eating it, but can never get my fill. Like olives. It's a lucky thing it's not salty.
We're out of cocktail olives, it's a tragedy of historic proportions, but we're coping because we're Americans.
The peoples of the Mediterranean began to emerge from barbarism when they learned to cultivate the olive and the vine.
Were floods of tears to be unloosed In tribute to my grief, The doves of Noah ne'er had roost Nor found an olive-leaf.
I like Pirate's Booty. Prunes and olives, too. I love hummus. I can eat that until I die. I tend to eat mostly organic food.
Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
Compared to a novel, a film is like an economy pizza where there are no olives, no ham, no anchovies, no mushrooms, and all you’ve got is the dough.
Clary stopped wondering about peanut-fish-olive-tomato soup and started wondering what would happen if she dumped the contents of the pot on Isabelle’s head.
One of the biggest problems with young chefs is too much addition to the plate. You put cilantro and then tarragon and then olive oil and then walnut oil or whatever. It's too much.
Knock, Knock." "Who's there?" "Olive." "Olive who?" "Olive...ooh. I love you, too," he said, figuring it out. "You can tell me that one anytime you like." He folded her into his arms.
As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very footsteps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, in human form, had walked there before me.
The disciples were not losing time when they sat beside their Master, and held quiet converse with Him under the olives of Bethany or by the shores of Galilee. Those were their school-hours; those were their feeding times.
A small olive-skinned creature who had hit puberty but never hit it very hard, Ben had been my best friend since fifth grade, when we both finally owned up to the fact that neither of us was likely to attract anyone else as a best friend.
Into the woods, my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent, Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him, When into the woods He came.
