Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Fonder. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Fonder Quotes And Sayings by 89 Authors including Rachel Harris,William Shakespeare,Elizabeth Bowen,Anne Mccaffrey,Sharon Lynn Fisher for you to enjoy and share.
corn maque choux. He
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
Host: What say you to young Master Fenton? he capers, he
dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he
speaks holiday, he smells April and May: he will
carry't, he will carry't; 'tis in his buttons; he
will carry't.
Memory is to love what the saucer is to the cup.
The bronze rider of Mnementh, Lord F'lar, will require quarters for himself. I, F'nor, brown rider, prefer to be lodged with the wingmen. We are, in number, twelve. F'lar liked that touch of F'nor's, totting up the wing strength, as if Fax were incapable of counting.
I liked to tinker with things, like Father. Make things with my hands. I liked to be alone, but not to be lonely. You were my only friend. You and Dutch.
The soles of his shoes are worn the way the edges of erasers become rounded with use. As though he walks around correcting his mistakes.
The Patrician could read," said Spelter. "Not if you cut off his index finger," said Carding.
Mr. Long Fingers. Mr. Womb-Ticklers
He'd been living a lie since he arrived. He'd pretended to be a local, yet had loathed everything about Milwaukee. Now Al knew differently. He didn't want to be anything else but himself: a cheese curd-loving, festival-going, Brew Crew fan who adored the most incredible chef in the city.
Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?
I'm not following any of this, you know. Beecher who?"
"Henry Ward Beecher." Another slug from the bottle. "He's a preacher. Hey, that rhymes."
Well, that answers any questions about whether the alcohol is working.
Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed ...
An unmanly sort of man whose love life seems to have been largely confined to crying in laps and playing mouse.
The Chollerick drinkes, the Melancholick eats, the Flegmatick sleepes.
Don't tawch meh matherfawker!
The inimitable stories of Tong-King never have any real ending, and this one, being in his most elevated style, has even less end than most of them. But the whole narrative is permeated with the odour of joss-sticks and honourable high-mindedness, and the two characters are both of noble birth.
Mongolian Fondue," I say. "Very authentic.
The misers cheese is wholesomest
Hello kerplunk, this is my dear friend pitter patter.
Let's name the sentimental hog Arnold
CAVILER, n. A critic of our own work.
(Henry requests Sin marry Caledonia)
I would sooner geld myself. Drunk. With a dull knife. (Sin)
I think I'm much too earnest to be as cool as 'Boyd Crowder'.
To this day, H.R. Giger's work remains distinctive in every sense. He is frighteningly unique.
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack is dizzyingly brilliant. Mark Leyner is a hyperkinetic shaman, who flies the banner of rum and candy and writes like a one-eyed feral bandit. His new book is supremely original, delirious and synapse-shattering.
Mouse-brained fool
Tinker wrote neatly, though his spelling was not good, Ruth's recipes would never fail for confusion between 'add sugar' and 'seethe', but Jane's writing looked like an intoxicated inky spider had staggered across the page on the way to the bar for another drink. Which it really didn't need.
Mason Patel is my counterpart. He is the eraser to my chalk. The milk to my cereal. The chocolate to my peanut butter. We were made for each other in cookie heaven.
Ting-a-ling mother fucker.
He's a filler," Cammie says with more conviction than a suicide bomber.
"What does that mean?" I am studying the menu, contemplating an almond croissant.
"You know - stuff something into your heart quickly to stop it from cracking open ... from
bleeding out ...
As leopard feels at home with leopard.
There are no good crackers, and if you find one, kill him before he changes..
French. Feel. Finger. Fuck.
How's Uncle Louis today?" "Who?" "And Aunt Maude?
He has 'le coeur comme un artichaud'. Eddy fumbled for her high school French. 'A heart like an artichoke?' 'Oui. He has a leaf for everyone, but makes a meal for no one.
He (Dave Brower) is an emotionalist in an age of dangerous reason.
hospital johnny.
His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.
RIMER, n. A poet regarded with indifference or disesteem.
Man has made many machines, complex and cunning, but which of them indeed rivals the workings of his heart?
He's not the brightest crayola in the pack.
He was a LEPER, you idiot! Not a leopard.
A miser is sometimes a grand personification of fear. He has a fine horror of poverty; and he is not content to keep want from the door, or at arm's length, but he places it, by heaping wealth upon wealth, at a sublime distance!
Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he's a terrible kisser to boot."
Evie's parents stared in stunned silence.
"Or so I've heard.
The paternal hearth, the rallying-place of the affections.
Jean-Louis had never had a day's illness in his life. He was tall and as gnarled as an oak. The sun had baked his skin until it had the colour and toughness and stillness of a tree. With advancing years, he had lost his tongue. He now never spoke, considering such an activity pointless.
Sir McCoolpants Von No Touchy
Holy crap on a cracker.
Life is like a fondue: the best fruit ain't the best till it's been through some goo.
A scepter is one thing, and a ladle another.
But surely," Breuer
All griefes with bread are lesse.
I dub thee Toadsticker," I said. "Slayer of miscreants, opener of packages, occasional carver of baked turkeys. Let all men hear, and know mild caution." I swear the steel flickered.
Beh oui. Better sticky than burned.
Who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe,With shops full of shoes all hir lyfe?
Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cucc.
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nu,
Sing cuccu!
Ah! Indeed but! But he consumes too much spice, eats it like candy. Look at his eyes! He might have come directly from the Arrakeen labor pool. Efficient, Piter, but he's still emotional and prone to passionate outbursts. Efficient, Piter, but he still can err.
-Baron Vladimir
Potter is piqued with potter, joiner with joiner, beggar begrudges beggar, and singer singer.
My programming language was solder.
He was the sort of languid and elegant young man one would expect to find at a country house party, playing croquet with Bertie Wooster. Frightfully good fun, but not too many brains.
A man that's fond precociously of stirring , :;:; Must be a spoon.
Sir McHotpants Von Grabby Hands
Everyone agreed that Clevinger was certain to go far in the academic world. In short, Clevinger was one of those people with lots of intelligence and no brains,
Ben [Peeler] and I have known each other for a decade. He trusts my crazy ideas and spontaneous combustion and he gets the players I want and knows the kind of personality players I like. He has taste that I trust and that to me is more important than any technical things.
Apelles used to paint a good housewife on a snail, to import that she home-keeping.
Crackers are short on sparkle.
In 'Huckleberry Finn,' I have drawn Tom Blankenship exactly as he was. He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had.
Muzeul Gustave Moreau,
You would realize that all the cookies were formed in the same mold. And what is more, Sophie, you are now seized by the irresistible desire to see this mold. Because clearly, the mold itself must be utter perfection - and in a sense, more beautiful - in comparison with these crude copies.
Aunt Clara doesn't take her eyes off her toast. Her delicate jet earrings tremble as her knife scratches at the toast like a cat's paw, buttering every inch. Strange how even the most mundane habits of dislikable people can strike such harsh chords. I even hate the way Aunt butters.
Jacques wants a pancake shaped like Mozart's Symphony No. 40! In G minor!
He is the cheese to my macaroni.
L'amoureux qui n'oublie pas quelquefois meurt par exce' s, fatigue et tension de me moire (tel Werther). The lover who does not forget sometimes dies from excess, fatigue, and the strain of memory (like Werther).
Clevinger was one of those people with lots of intelligence and no brains, and everyone knew it except those who soon found it out
In every evocation of a childhood scene, my stepfather's face is the least detailed, the most out of focus; when I think of him my memory's eyes have cataracts. (p. 12)
Jeter's work ethic, kneaded into the dough and manifesting itself in the leavening of his metric loaf, has already nourished the dossier with which his contracts are negotiated.
Raoul: Age and treachery!
Neal: Youth and skill!
pocket lizard licker.
Unattached and aimless, these old men are always infatuated with little certainties and regularities such as those that ordered the life of Mr. Krupper as seen from outside. Habit is living. Anything unexpected reminds them of death.
("Hard Candy")
All I'm saying is if you're gonna have a cracker for a daddy, might as well be a Ritz cracker, right?" Levi
Only the lame could love and only the maimed could mourn
kind. It was the most singular, and almost the most touching and melancholy exile that fancy can imagine. - One of
O Hope, sweet flatterer! thy, delusive touch
Sheds on afflicted minds the balm of comfort,
Relieves the load of poverty, sustains
The captive, bending with the weight of bonds,
And smooths the pillow of disease and pain.
Crap on a cracker, this was bad.
The more I anoint the more my mind adheres physically to the mysterious fabric of love.
I am decutie. Worn thin. You know that word?
Why, an old, mangy dog, warming himself at the hearth, and struggling to his feet with a little
whimper to welcome his master home - why, that dog has more memories than I! At least he
recognizes his master. His master. But what can I call mine?
Weakness may excite tenderness, and gratify the arrogant pride of man; but the lordly caresses of a protector will not gratify a noble mind that pants for, and deserves to be respected. Fondness is a poor substitute for friendship.
Alain-Fournier is
I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.
What a dreadful thing it must be to have a dull father.
Come, come," the Baron said. "We don't have much time and pain is quick. Please don't bring it to this, my dear Duke." The Baron looked up at Piter who stood at Leto's shoulder. "Piter doesn't have all his tools here, but I'm sure he could improvise."
"Improvisation is sometimes the best, Baron.
Raoul, you shall not pass!
out of my way cakesniffers
The juggling comes to an end now, but the struggling does not. I have Liesel Meminger in one hand, Max Vandenburg in the other. Soon I will clap them together. Just give me a few pages.
what I meant." Glaser
Sweets and Tarts: The Most Wonderous Bakery in All of Hearts
Cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain.
The desperate resilience,the annoyed flamboyance;his personable passivity and his phobic aggressiveness; all trapped in the clever wrinkles of his fingers, the hard unsociable cast of his knuckles, the safe hopelessness of the pads.
Julia. It is hard to tell. The blisters didn't help either. In fact, they made