Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Mulberry. 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 Mulberry Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Nina George,David Fairchild,Barbara Walters,Shannon Hale,Cherise Sinclair for you to enjoy and share.
A wood that smells of the sea.
The mangosteen, queen of the tropical fruit.
If you were a tree, what kind would you be?
I know muckers are the simplest of commoners and becoming a lady's maid is a right honor, but I couldn't give up the wild steppes forever, couldn't turn my back on Mama and all she taught. I feel like a mucker from the ends of my hair to the mud of my bones.
Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.
ludic: cigarette
The tree that God plants, no winde hurts it.
Brioches are a light, pale yellow, faintly sweet kind of muffin with a characteristic blob on top, rather like a mushroom just pushing crookedly through the ground. Once eaten in Paris, they never taste as good anywhere else.
The fabled musk deer searches the world over for the source of the scent which comes from itself.
The first pale blossom of the unripened year.
Aint nuttin' but a peanut.
Moonrise
settle back with muffins and tea
until the window empties
Mungo was a gnome. Disguised as a dwarf. The blatantly false beard was a giveaway. It appeared that Mungo had crafted it himself out of hair collected from a wide assortment of cars and then glued it to his face.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
Squirrelpaw!" Brambleclaw's
Hi, Your Majesty, we drugged your love muffin and then let her walk out into the dark, in the snow. Her apartment is destroyed and we're not sure where she is ...
He understands muslin
The loamy perfume
Of ferns, rain, earth, flees before
Mister poopie pants
A sweet fruit for a sweet fight.
Delicious Pumpkin Loaf
the Muscatonic Summer Music
With Amaryllis in Blueberry, Christina Meldrum has woven a beautifully layered, intensely emotional story, with unforgettable characters whose voices will remain with you long after their secrets have been revealed.
I am a grateful ... grapefruit.
Don't imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.
Pemberley Woods with some perturbation;
I put everything I can into the mulberry of my mind and hope that it is going to ferment and make a decent wine. How that process happens, I'm sorry to tell you I can't describe.
Baobab. Away in the distance I could see the cloud-softened
Forest is the best port of the wise man!
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
What nationality are you Mary-Ann can't tell you look like a mixed breed mut
I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool.
jessamine. Flowering
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
Fenugreek, Tuesday's spice, when the air is green like mosses after rain.
Nameless McBitchypants
My petal.
Westminster's toy had tea issues. Thank Biffy and Lyall. Toodle pip.
A.
Professor Milligan will now play his tree! The composition is in A Minor, the tree is in A garden.
Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam.
Fennel, which is the spice for Wednesdays, the day of averages, of middle-aged people ... Fennel ... smelling of changes to come.
A solid man of Boston; A comfortable man with dividends, And the first salmon and the first green peas.
Mid the sharp, short emerald wheat, scarce risen three fingers well,
The wild tulip at the end of its tube, blows out its great red bell,
Like a thin clear bubble of blood, for the children to pick and sell.
English muffins with avocado is one of my favorite breakfasts.
You should go to a pear tree for pears, not to an elm.
Malefic baneberry. It doesn't taste good, but one teaspoon and a skeleton would dance a jig. He
Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
The forest is blanketed by the greenest ferns and moss and bonsai-like trees, a wild majesty that beckons hobbits and pixies and elves and dreamers.
Hyacinth. Please forgive me.
Painted mafritty fritters frittering fitty fitty scented candelabra abra cadaver. Candle blah blah.
Fair fresh leaves, and buds - and buds - tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air.
Here is the most valuable thing in the whole of Moomin Valley, Groke! Do you know what has grown out of this hat? Raspberry juice and fruit trees, and the most beautiful little self-propelling clouds: the only Hobgoblin's Hat in the world!
It is Pau-kala. The branch is still bare. The old tree's leaves will never return - they are a memory and a song. But there is a sapling, there is a sapling right beside that old tree, and it's trembling with promise. There will be a spring again.
My mother is a muttonhead.
Nuzleaf Grass/Dark
This is cherries, too. (looking again) I declare I believe that's the only one.
Good havens! I suppose a man may eat his own muffin in his own garden.
The pine is the mother of legends.
Whatever your tastes, Magrathea can cater for you. We are not proud.
Give me liberty or a bran muffin!
All Lightwoods look the same to me -
Light-leaved acacias, by the door,
Stood up in balmy air,
Clusters of blossomed moonlight bore,
And breathed a perfume rare.
Pale purple as the bloom om a ripe plum, veined with the gold of late flowering gorse, set with small slender birches,just turning yellow,with red-berried rowans and thicket of bracken, the heath lay steeped in sunshine.
Old Fashioned Boston Brown Bread
But not to our Muffin.
Treeple - all you need is be-leaf!
gin daisy, which
She smelled of Marlboros, Aviance Night Musk, and her first drink of the late afternoon.
This house has enough nooks and crannies for English muffins.
Cassoulet, that best of bean feasts, is everyday fare for a peasant but ambrosia for a gastronome, though its ideal consumer is a 300-pound blocking back who has been splitting firewood nonstop for the last twelve hours on a subzero day in Manitoba.
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.
Mellow nuts have the hardest rind.
oatmeal. She was close to Miyako. The
Hawthorn, white and odorous with blossom, framing the quiet fields, and swaying flowers and grasses, and the hum of bees.
Life is sometimes sad and often dull, but there are currants in the cake, and here is one of them.
How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays; And their uncessant labours see Crown'd from some single herb or tree. Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow'rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose.
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
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?
I'm obsessed with muffins.
Mars red gladiolus
A fig for partridges and quails, ye dainties I know nothing of ye; But on the highest mount in Wales Would choose in peace to drink my coffee.
Today's mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground.
Soon the Boggy Mun would open up shop. I wore no cloak and had no pockets. I carried my knife and salt in a basket. Little Red Riding Hood, skipping off into the woods. And whom will she meet?
Why, her own self, of course: the wolf.
I'm the 'Muskrat Love' girl.
'My Life' is soft, with notes of pear and gardenia, but still bold, with a woody base.
I never see that prettiest thing- A cherry bough gone white with Spring- But what I think, How gay 'twould be To hang me from a flowering tree.
And occasionally a sweet chestnut. Miss Honey, wishing to change the subject for the moment, gave the names of all these to Matilda and taught her how to recognize them by the shape of their leaves and the pattern of the bark on their trunks. Matilda took all this
Beautiful December grapes, blue as plums, every grape a little skinful of sweet, tasteless water
Three scents accompany my memories of this place: cut wood, poppy-seed bread, and the soft, crisp smell of snow.
Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows - the south and east oriels - are of a lightness and grace of execution really surprising.
On the motionless branches of some trees, autumn berries hung like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchards where the fruits were jewels ...
Neverwinter Wood.
If thou lookest on the lime-leaf, Thou a heart's form will discover; Therefore are the lindens ever Chosen seats of each fond lover.
Al the povere peple tho pescoddes fetten; Benes and baken apples thei broghte in hir lappe, Chibolles and chervelles and ripe chiries manye, And profrede Piers this present to plese with Hunger.
Whenever I investigate a smell, I find that the answer is always bad. It's never: 'What is that? *sniff* muffins!'
Marsala enriches our mind, body and soul, exuding confidence and stability. Marsala is a subtly seductive shade, one that draws us in to its embracing warmth.
Corneille is to Shakespeare as a clipped hedge is to a forest.
The murex Dr. Geffard keeps on his desk can entertain her for a half hour, the hollow spines, the ridged whorls, the deep entrance; it's a forest of spikes and caves and textures; it's a kingdom. Her
Soul of fibre and heart of oak.
I'm all over the place with muffins. Carrots are great. Banana, chocolate chip, they rock, too.
Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.
Toast your goddamn muffins.