A Quote by Alain Ducasse

I love to pick tomatoes at the end of the day, when they're still warm from the sun. — © Alain Ducasse
I love to pick tomatoes at the end of the day, when they're still warm from the sun.
Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes What would life be like without homegrown tomatoes Only two things that money can't buy That's true love and home grown tomatoes.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March.
Don't ripen picked tomatoes in the sun. Put underripe tomatoes and stone fruits in a paper bag in cool, dark place, and magic happens. And never, ever store them in the fridge: they turn mushy and flavorless.
I love a warm bath at the end of a day.
At end of Love, at end of Life, At end of Hope, at end of Strife' At end of all we cling to so- The sun is setting-we must go. At dawn of Love, at dawn of Life, At dawn of Peace that follows Strife, At dawn of all we long for so- The sun is rising-let us go.
Still, the sun was hot. Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day
At the end of the day, if you're still kickin', and you're still doin' what you love, and you still have a dream, that's all you need.
Her heart felt as if it were breaking in her breast, bleeding and bleeding, young and fierce. From grief over the warm and ardent love which she had lost and still secretly mourned; from anguished joy over the pale, luminous love which drew her to the farthest boundaries of life on this earth. Through the great darkness that would come, she saw the gleam of another, gentler sun, and she sensed the fragrance of the herbs in the garden at world's end.
The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day; While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.
I still let myself be a fan of music and that motivates me to want to be better than certain people or just getting the same love. Nothing is new under the sun so you cant be afraid to take things from others and try to flip them and make them your own at the end of the day.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.
I love people where, at the end of the day, they'll pick up a paintbrush and paint clouds. They can physically make things.
That's why I like my job so much, because at the end of the day they're fruits of labor that you don't pick very easily. And I love that.
The sun rises every day. What is to love? Lock the sun in a box. Force the sun to overcome adversity in order to rise. Then we will cheer! I will often admire beautiful sunrise, but I will never consider the sun a champion for having risen.
I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I'd call myself a fool to ask for more.
Italy has sun and tomatoes, and Russia just has real problems.
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