A Quote by Andrew Marvell
What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.
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What wondrous life is this I lead!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
One time, when I was very little, I climbed a tree and ate these green, sour apples. My stomach swelled and became hard like a drum, it hurt a lot. Mother said that if I'd just waited for the apples to ripen, I wouldn't have become sick. So now, whenever I really want something, I try to remember what she said about the apples.
There is something wonderful about the way you glaze a fruit cake, nonchalantly drop some orange on as a topping, dust the sugar on top of a sponge cake or fan the apples on a tart.
Widows, like ripe fruit, drop easily from their perch.
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.
Men talk about Bible miracles because there is no miracle in their lives. Cease to gnaw that crust. There is ripe fruit over your head.
I wish I was a prolific writing wondrous boy genius - I wish I was Stevie Wonder - but I wasn't. I was me. I wrote terrible songs about girls I was head-over-heels about. As soon as a pretty girl looks at me, that's it - I'm in love, and I should probably write a song about it!
There were so many miracles at work: that a blossom might become a peach, that a bee could make honey in its thorax, that rain might someday fall. I thought then about the seasons changing, and in the gray of night I could almost will myself to see the azure sky, the gold of the maple leaves, the crimson of the ripe apples, the hoarfrost on the grass.
As a lead singer, all I want to do is be in my own head and think about how great I am. That's a lead singer's disease.
And you sort of have this idea in your head about how you're going to go about the audition, and as soon as you get there, all of those thoughts just kind of drop away and you realize you're standing in front of Amy Adams, whom you've admired for years and years. That was the first time that I was ever really starstruck in my life.
The natural power of breastfeeding is one of the greatest wonders of the world. It is about real love. It is about caring and celebrating the wondrous joy of nurturing a new life. It is about enjoying being a woman.
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy.
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer: There,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.
Whatever I do is done out of sheer joy; I drop my fruits like a ripe tree. What the general reader or the critic makes of them is not my concern.
There is ripe fruit over your head.
Heaven blazing into the head: Tragedy wrought to its uttermost. Though Hamlet rambles and Lear rages And all the drop-scenes drop at once Upon a hundred thousand stages It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.
So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap.
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