A Quote by William Saroyan

Of all the things I love to taste, sweetest is the kiss of love. — © William Saroyan
Of all the things I love to taste, sweetest is the kiss of love.
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth so.
For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope, And Hope kiss'd Love, and Love drew in her breath In that close kiss and drank her whisper'd tales. They said that Love would die when Hope was gone. And Love mourn'd long, and sorrow'd after Hope; At last she sought out Memory, and they trod The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope, And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears.
God is love. I don't say the heart doesn't feel a taste of it, but what a taste. The smallest glass of love mixed with a pint pot of ditch-water. We wouldn't recognize that love. It might even look like hate. It would be enough to scare us - God's love.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past - For years fleet away with the wings of the dove - The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
The taste of things recovered is the sweetest honey we will ever know.
Love to throw yourself on the earth and kiss it. Kiss the earth and love it with an unceasing, consuming love.
**Did you realize how much a kiss says, Philip???** Oh My Angel I doooo....A KISS is the beginning of, middle to, and end of most things I love about life.
Even if I overcompensate, nobody will ever want me. Not Seth. Not my folks. You can’t kiss someone who has no lips. Oh, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me. I’ll be anybody you want me to be
I write songs like "The Sweetest Love." Of course I'm a little cheesy. Love is cheesy. Love is corny. But it's also the greatest feeling in the whole world.
And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever.
There's nothing in this world so sweet as love. And next to love the sweetest thing is hate.
Some say that love is the sweetest feeling, the purest form of joy, but that isn't right. It's not love--it's relief.
Love must kiss that mortal's eyesWho hopes to see fair Arcady.No gold can buy you entrance there;But beggared Love may go all bare-No wisdom won with weariness;But Love goes in with Folly's dress-No fame that wit could ever win;But only Love may lead Love in.
The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love. What the world really needs is more love and less paperwork.
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