Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Tartness. 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 Tartness Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Jonathan Miller,Margaret Of Valois,Claudia Bakker,Graham Greene,John Greenleaf Whittier for you to enjoy and share.
Errors of taste are very often the outward sign of a deep fault of sensibility.
Delicacy is the genuine tint of virtue.
Seeking survival, hostile, hidden from sight,
Deliciously flavoured - juicy, sweet bite,
Exploding senses preparing to ignite,
Inspiring to escape from the suffocating night.
Tea. He watched her while she made it, made it, of course, all wrong: the water not on the boil, the teapot unheated, too few leaves. She said, I never quite understand why English people like teas so.
A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
The sweetness of taste of the truth.
Foul are my contents but sweeter than filth from the mouth.
It is the taste of cut steps, bloody fingerprints. Of healed books, smiles on fresh tulips. Of longing and sweet fatigue.
Is it nice, my preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?
I am a tarsier and a tarsier's son, the grandson and great-grandson of tarsiers, a tiny creature, made up of two pupils and whatever simply could not be left out ...
I don't know what truculent means, but if it's good, it's me
It tasted like a shade of white near blue; it tasted like the idea of pearls; it tasted like a memory nearly grasped but lost at the last moment.
Things, even people have a way of leaking into each other like flavours when you cook.
Taste speaks through a turn of phrase, a curl of the lip, a shrug of the shoulder: it makes an atmosphere.
Looks delicious," he lied. "A mite crispy along the edges - but then, I like it that way."
Incredulous eyes met his own. "You like your potatoes burned?"
Ah, so he'd been right about that. If he could still recognize what it was she'd cooked, then surely he could eat it.
Steeped like a teabag in aristocratic pretensions ...
So the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.
What the eye doesn't see the stomach doesn't heave over.
How can a man's candour be seen in all its lustre unless he has a few failings to talk of? But he had an agreeable confidence that his faults were all of a generous kind - impetuous, arm-blooded, leonine; never crawling, crafty, reptilian.
the pupil of the soul's clear eye.
It smelled delicious but tasted of jealousy.
a certain stink on a certain kind of soul, a foul scent of hateful smallness too often thwarted . . . then given an ounce of power.
A kind Providence furnishes the limpest personality with a little gum or starch in the form of tradition.
There may be something petty in a refined taste; it easily degenerates into effeminacy. It does not consider the broadest use. It is not content with simple good and bad, and so is fastidious and curious or nice only.
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words
Clear and sweet is my soul ... and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack
The cause of a wrong taste is a defect of judgment.
I don't trust people with empty-stomach breath to tell me what taste is.
was like a crystal bowl filled with warm kettle corn. But when you lifted it up and checked the bottom, you could see a layer of burnt, unpopped kernels. The kind that makes you flinch from the unexpected bitter taste. The kind that may cause you to chip a tooth.
Void of all honor, avaricious, rash, The daring tribe compound their boasted trash Tincture of syrup, lotion, drop, or pill; All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill.
I think you're my apple," she said quietly. "I don't regret tasting you. I can't. You're not perfect by any means - there are sweeter out there, and you have a few rotten spots - but I'd never have found a juicer apple anywhere in the world."-Serah
Sweet pulp and sour skin -
Or was it sweet outside, and sour within?
True delicacy, that most beautiful heart-leaf of humanity, exhibits itself most significantly in little things.
What is sour in the house a bracing walk in the woods makes sweet.
He had the sourdough smell of age. His chest sagged into shrivelled teats; his lovemaking was unreliable, yet she found it strangely wholesome in a way that defied sense.
Tea tasted the best at its second pouring. A
The quality of Scotchness was a highly concentrated essence, and should always be diluted. As an ingredient it was admirable; neat, it was as abominable as ammonia.
It smells green, the way a leaf does when you tear it in half.
Frightfully pale and perpetually odd
I have an acute sense of delicacy. Naturally I am prejudiced in favour of virtue.
("The Accursed Cordonnier")
It scored right away with me by being the smooth, fine-grained sort, not the coarse flaky, dry-on-the-outside rubbish full of chunds of gut and gristle to testify to its authenticity.
Your hunger blurs your ability,
A good taste is often unconscious; a just taste is always conscious.
Let your condiments be in the condition of your senses.
Soul of fibre and heart of oak.
He's lithe and tanned and taut. But to my eye he's lost something. He has a synthetic quality, like orange soda instead of freshly squeezed juice. It's orangey and bubbly and it quenches your thirst, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste. And it's not good for you.
Taste is a result of a thousand distastes.
with my nicely butter-laminated dough. It was, as expected, perfect. I marveled again at the way someone as strong as Tarry could so carefully
Things taste sweeter when you have some hunger left to linger. You feel it hunting your head for buried things; digging into the fractures of your breath warm and greedy.
True eloquence has an edge, sharp and clean.
Taste is the most unexplored sense
Ingrateful man with liquorish draughts, and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind that from it all consideration slips.
My dear Tartini, one's life is so sweet and precious that even honey tastes like salt in comparison!
Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
Power. Intoxicating. Like a fine wine.
Many shadows hide behind light, and the best lies are those seasoned liberally with truth: salt covering the flavor of rotten meat.
I brought you some coffee." he held out the cup but she waved it away.
"I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet."
At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?"
"I just know."
-Luke and Clary, pg.209-
Every silver spoon is tarnished.
The differences between a tart, a pie and a quiche are a blur.
The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.
He broke open the first of the meal packets, and inspected it without enthusiasm. The name on the label - SPACETASTIES - was enough to put him off. And he had grave doubts about the promise printed underneath: 'Guaranteed crumbless'.
True delicacy is not a fragile thing.
Clarity in my cup. Transparency of my soul. Lucidity of myself.
Elixir of the ages. Tea makes us all sages.
Taste ... is a matter of taste (Tad Allagash)
The thick plottens.
It is complete loose stool water. It is arse-gravy of the worst kind. - About The Da Vinci Code
Bond loathed and despised tea, that flat, soft, time-wasting opium of the masses,
Taste is, so to speak, the microscope of the judgment.
Hunger is the best seasoning.
Cunning is strength withheld.
Taste is one of the five senses, and the man who tells us with priggish pride that he does not care what he eats is merely boasting of his sad deficiency: he might as well be proud of being deaf or blind, or, owing to a perpetual cold in the head, of being devoid of the sense of smell.
She was skinny, like a salted anchovy, she gave off an odor of wildness, she had a long face, narrow at the temples, framed by two bands of smooth black hair. But
Thy breath is like the steame of apple-pyes.
you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold. The
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection,
these summer flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
Taste consists in the power of judging; genius in the power of executing.
Of the smells, bread; of the tastes, salt.
Her pores were like those of an orange, its skin filled with juice, which, if you applied the slightest pressure, would squirt up into your eyes. She was that fresh.
Expertness of taste is at once the result and reward of constant exercise of thinking.
...I thought you would like something a touch more substantial after weeks of eating nothing but"-she picked up a box of Pop-Tarts, squinting at the label as she read the ingredients-"high-fructose corn syrup.
Luxury, that alluring pest with fair forehead, which, yielding always to the will of the body, throws a deadening influence over the senses, and weakens the limbs more than the drugs of Circe's cup.
Damn it, it wasn't quite fresh enough!
Good taste, the last and vilest of human superstitions, has succeeded in silencing us where all the rest has failed.
Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies
From head to ears, and now from ears to eyes.
The sweetest pleasures soonest cloy, And its best flavour temperance gives to joy.
Fat gives things flavor.
pedigree whose odor even the forest of air-freshener trees he'd hung from the mirror couldn't mask.
I guess trick, Delicious. I am flat out of sweetness.
The essence of taste is suitability. Divest the word of its prim and priggish implications, and see how it expresses the mysterious demand of the eye and mind for symmetry, harmony and order.
Delicacy in woman is strength.
Why does the forbidden always add that edge of sweetness?
Totally drained he could only manage one but he made it a good one tongue included. "Delicious " he murmured.
"So depraved " Colton muttered.
"Get off me."
His stubble was cut smooth. he smelled of aftershave, dry deodorant and sex-tarnished bedsheets. those eyes
grey, strong, inlaid beneath a firm brow that displayed such hate and SUCH love
they seduced her every time ... but not tonight.
Forbidden fruit tastes sweet, but its aftertaste is bitter.
Taste is a matter of taste.
Appleblossom can't believe the taste of the dark square. Is tehre a way to describe this morsel of goodness? It is so sweet adn smooth. It makes a green snail seem like an old pinecone seed, and every possum knows that a green snail is fantastic eating.
My trews may be soft, lass, he thoughts, but what's in them isn't.
I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.
The craving today is for something light and spicy, and few have patience, still less desire, to examine carefully that which would make a demand both upon their hearts and