“Honey lamb, there are a lot of things in this world I feel insecure about. Religion. Our national economic policies. What color socks to wear with a blue suit. But I've got to tell you that my performance in that hotel room last night isn't one of them.”
―
Susan Elizabeth Phillips,
It Had to Be You
“We’re all works in progress, honey. And believe me when I tell you that I’ve had to work harder than most.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Ain't She Sweet?
“You're not my matchmaker any longer. But we're still friends, and in the interest of our friendship we need to discuss page thirteen.""Page thirteen ?""You've accused me of being arrogant. I've always thought of myself as confident, but I'm here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures... Honey, if this is what you're looking for in a man, I don't think any of us are going to measure up.""I have no idea what you're talking about.""Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?"Her sex toy catalog. He'd taken it months ago. She'd hoped he forgotten it by now." Most of these products are hypoallergenic. That's good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that's a matter of preference. There's a harness on this one. That's pretty kinky. And...Son of a bitch ! It says this one is dishwater safe. I'm sorry but there's just something unappetizing about that.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Match Me If You Can
“And he discovered, finally, the source of the honey-sweet sound.The sound was music.The sound was King Phillip playing his guitar and singing for his daughter, the Princess Pea, every night before she fell asleep.Hidden in a hole in the wall of the princess's bedroom, the mouse listened with all his heart. The sound of the King's music made Despereaux's soul grow large and light inside of him.Oh," he said, "it sounds like heaven. It smells like honey.” ― Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux
“Are you saying...I was your icebreaker?"Those honey-colored eyes darkened with concern. "Tell me that's okay with you. I know your emotions weren't involved, but still, nobody likes to think they've been taken advantage of."He unclenched his teeth. "And that's what you did? You took advantage of me?""I wasn't, you know, picturing him in my mind last night when I was with you or anything. Well, maybe for a couple of seconds, but that's all, I swear.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Match Me If You Can
“The last one's hard. Marriage is always a balancing act, and it's never a good idea for one partner to get too big a head, but I'm afraid that's what's going to happen here. People write a lot of things about Eric Dillon's talent, and most of it's true. But nobody writes about the important things. The fact that he's a wonderful father and the best husband a woman could have. That fact that he cares about other people so much that he sometimes scares me. That doesn't mean he's perfect, of course. It's hard living with a man who's prettier than all of your girlfriends put together. But if it weren't for Eric Dillon, I wouldn't be here tonight. He loved me when I wasn't lovable, and I guess when it comes right down to it, that's pretty much what family is all about. Thank you, sweetheart.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Honey Moon
“When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and a true maxim, that a “drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall.” So with men. If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what he will, is the great high road to his reason, and which, when once gained, you will find but little trouble in convincing his judgment of the justice of your cause, if indeed that cause really be a just one. On the contrary, assume to dictate to his judgment, or to command his action, or to mark him as one to be shunned and despised, and he will retreat within himself, close all the avenues to his head and his heart; and tho’ your cause be naked truth itself . . . you shall no more be able to [reach] him, than to penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him, even to his own best interest. [Italics added]” ― Donald T. Phillips, Lincoln On Leadership: Executive Strategies for Tough Times
“A coaster gives you hope. You can pretty much ride a good one through the worst tragedy life throws at you. You can even ride it through somebody dying, I guess.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Honey Moon
“Honey, when I look at you, you're right, I don't see anything similar to those other women. But don't you see? That's what makes you so special. That's why I love you.” ― Carly Phillips, Hot Number
“What happened?” she asked Varga eagerly. “He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck.” She stared at him. “It seems too easy.” “Oh, it wasn’t easy.” ― Honey Phillips, Izzie and the Icebeast
“When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and a true maxim, that a “drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall.” So with men. If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what he will, is the great high road to his reason, and which, when once gained, you will find but little trouble in convincing his judgment of the justice of your cause, if indeed that cause really be a just one. On the contrary, assume to dictate to his judgment, or to command his action, or to mark him as one to be shunned and despised, and he will retreat within himself, close all the avenues to his head and his heart; and tho’ your cause be naked truth itself . . . you shall no more be able to [reach] him, than to penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him, even to his own best interest. [Italics” ― Donald T. Phillips, Lincoln On Leadership: Executive Strategies for Tough Times
“T'chok took another look at the ladder, sighed, and called T'lan. The commander answered immediately. "T'lan I need assistance." "Of course." "My female has escaped." "Again?" T'lan sounded amused and T'chok bit back the urge to growl at him. "You should put a leash on that one.” ― Honey Phillips, Alien Prisoner
“Put on some music, honey. Put on some Diz, will you? His music is magic, and you'll please his ghost by invoking it," Kodama said. "You'll need his protection in the days ahead.” ― Gary Phillips, Violent Spring
“I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it.""Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice."She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter."Then she proceeded to ignore him.She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged.Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time.She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top.She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy.Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge.Time passed..."GOOD LORD!"The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost 'un'tasty burnt smell the acorns sometimes gave off.She smiled and opened her eyes.In her hands was a cracked wooden bowl full of porridge, just like she remembered.” ― Liz Braswell, Once Upon a Dream
“Beatriz breathed in the sweet aromas that lately appealed to her. Those at the forefront were of various honeys in the wooden honey pots anchoring the tablecloth: lavender, orange blossom, and eucalyptus. But the room was a cornucopia of visual and olfactory treats. Marcona almonds were roasting in Reuben's old wood oven, and from the kitchen downstairs wafted scents of all the spices they would be offering their customers fresh over the counter in cloth bags: cinnamon stalks, cloves, anise, ground ginger, juniper berries, finely grated nutmeg. Nora and Beatriz packaged all the spices themselves. They would also offer ribbon-tied bags of Phillip's tea creations served in the café: loose leaves of lemon verbena, dried pennyroyal, black tea with vanilla. All around the room, on the floor, shelves, and counters, were baskets and baskets and baskets of irresistible delights: jars of marmalades and honeys and pure, dark, sugarless chocolate pieces ready to melt with milk at home for the richest hot chocolate. Customers could even buy jars of chocolate shavings, to sprinkle over warmed pears and whipped cream, or over the whipped cream on their hot chocolates. They sold truffles white and dark, with or without rum, biscuits with every variation of nuts and spices, bars small or large of their own chocolate, and dried fruits dipped in chocolate.” ― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen
“In the sunset, the pebbles on the shore shifted their color from black and gray to honey. They were brightening. Soon the stones would glow, and the water in the bay was going to turn pink and orange. Spectacular in the city center, where people feared to have their pretty daughters go” ― Julia Phillips
“I’m sure it’s very nice that it’s useful, but sometimes things can be valuable just because they’re beautiful. Everything doesn’t have to have a use.” ― Honey Phillips, Extra Virgin Gargoyle
“Honey, you’ll mess up every day. And every day she’ll forgive you for it. That’s how marriages work. It’s easy to say you’ll never get divorced but harder to actually do it. There aren’t any guarantees, even if you take your ‘I do’s’ seriously. What you have to do is show up, every day. That’s how you make it work.” ― Lisa Phillips, Sanctuary Buried
“His muscles twitched in anticipation, but he moderated his steps, determined not to let his absolute weakness for the woman propel him into an unmanly display of emotion. Especially here, under her father’s scrutiny. She, on the other hand, began a jog. Then she broke into a skirt-lifting sprint—as she’d done outside the burning fort. Except this time, she was not running to Phillip, and the only object in flames was Totka’s throat as it burned with the effort to swallow. He braced himself to receive her all-out run, but when she loosed his name on a jagged cry, he dropped his bow, quiver, and decorum and hastened to meet her. She flew hard into his arms, laughing and crying at once, knocking the wind from his chest and the good sense from his brain. His rogue mouth went in search of hers. Despite her happy little murmurings and the sighs hot at his ear, he regained himself and angled away, pressing his cheek to hers, unable to draw her close enough. Her body was softer than he recalled, warmer, more eager. And Little Warrior was right—she smelled as sweet as honey. Nose buried in his shirt, she inhaled until her ribs strained against his hold. “Tell me you’ve come to take me home,” she said on a contented discharge of breath.” ― April W. Gardner, Beneath the Blackberry Moon: The Sacred Writings
“We’re all works in progress, honey. And believe me when I tell you that I’ve had to work harder than most.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Ain't She Sweet?
“You're not my matchmaker any longer. But we're still friends, and in the interest of our friendship we need to discuss page thirteen.""Page thirteen ?""You've accused me of being arrogant. I've always thought of myself as confident, but I'm here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures... Honey, if this is what you're looking for in a man, I don't think any of us are going to measure up.""I have no idea what you're talking about.""Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?"Her sex toy catalog. He'd taken it months ago. She'd hoped he forgotten it by now." Most of these products are hypoallergenic. That's good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that's a matter of preference. There's a harness on this one. That's pretty kinky. And...Son of a bitch ! It says this one is dishwater safe. I'm sorry but there's just something unappetizing about that.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Match Me If You Can
“And he discovered, finally, the source of the honey-sweet sound.The sound was music.The sound was King Phillip playing his guitar and singing for his daughter, the Princess Pea, every night before she fell asleep.Hidden in a hole in the wall of the princess's bedroom, the mouse listened with all his heart. The sound of the King's music made Despereaux's soul grow large and light inside of him.Oh," he said, "it sounds like heaven. It smells like honey.” ― Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux
“Are you saying...I was your icebreaker?"Those honey-colored eyes darkened with concern. "Tell me that's okay with you. I know your emotions weren't involved, but still, nobody likes to think they've been taken advantage of."He unclenched his teeth. "And that's what you did? You took advantage of me?""I wasn't, you know, picturing him in my mind last night when I was with you or anything. Well, maybe for a couple of seconds, but that's all, I swear.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Match Me If You Can
“The last one's hard. Marriage is always a balancing act, and it's never a good idea for one partner to get too big a head, but I'm afraid that's what's going to happen here. People write a lot of things about Eric Dillon's talent, and most of it's true. But nobody writes about the important things. The fact that he's a wonderful father and the best husband a woman could have. That fact that he cares about other people so much that he sometimes scares me. That doesn't mean he's perfect, of course. It's hard living with a man who's prettier than all of your girlfriends put together. But if it weren't for Eric Dillon, I wouldn't be here tonight. He loved me when I wasn't lovable, and I guess when it comes right down to it, that's pretty much what family is all about. Thank you, sweetheart.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Honey Moon
“When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and a true maxim, that a “drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall.” So with men. If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what he will, is the great high road to his reason, and which, when once gained, you will find but little trouble in convincing his judgment of the justice of your cause, if indeed that cause really be a just one. On the contrary, assume to dictate to his judgment, or to command his action, or to mark him as one to be shunned and despised, and he will retreat within himself, close all the avenues to his head and his heart; and tho’ your cause be naked truth itself . . . you shall no more be able to [reach] him, than to penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him, even to his own best interest. [Italics added]” ― Donald T. Phillips, Lincoln On Leadership: Executive Strategies for Tough Times
“A coaster gives you hope. You can pretty much ride a good one through the worst tragedy life throws at you. You can even ride it through somebody dying, I guess.” ― Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Honey Moon
“Honey, when I look at you, you're right, I don't see anything similar to those other women. But don't you see? That's what makes you so special. That's why I love you.” ― Carly Phillips, Hot Number
“What happened?” she asked Varga eagerly. “He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck.” She stared at him. “It seems too easy.” “Oh, it wasn’t easy.” ― Honey Phillips, Izzie and the Icebeast
“When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced, persuasion, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted. It is an old and a true maxim, that a “drop of honey catches more flies than a gallon of gall.” So with men. If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a drop of honey that catches his heart, which, say what he will, is the great high road to his reason, and which, when once gained, you will find but little trouble in convincing his judgment of the justice of your cause, if indeed that cause really be a just one. On the contrary, assume to dictate to his judgment, or to command his action, or to mark him as one to be shunned and despised, and he will retreat within himself, close all the avenues to his head and his heart; and tho’ your cause be naked truth itself . . . you shall no more be able to [reach] him, than to penetrate the hard shell of a tortoise with a rye straw. Such is man, and so must he be understood by those who would lead him, even to his own best interest. [Italics” ― Donald T. Phillips, Lincoln On Leadership: Executive Strategies for Tough Times
“T'chok took another look at the ladder, sighed, and called T'lan. The commander answered immediately. "T'lan I need assistance." "Of course." "My female has escaped." "Again?" T'lan sounded amused and T'chok bit back the urge to growl at him. "You should put a leash on that one.” ― Honey Phillips, Alien Prisoner
“Put on some music, honey. Put on some Diz, will you? His music is magic, and you'll please his ghost by invoking it," Kodama said. "You'll need his protection in the days ahead.” ― Gary Phillips, Violent Spring
“I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it.""Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice."She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter."Then she proceeded to ignore him.She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged.Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time.She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top.She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy.Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge.Time passed..."GOOD LORD!"The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost 'un'tasty burnt smell the acorns sometimes gave off.She smiled and opened her eyes.In her hands was a cracked wooden bowl full of porridge, just like she remembered.” ― Liz Braswell, Once Upon a Dream
“Beatriz breathed in the sweet aromas that lately appealed to her. Those at the forefront were of various honeys in the wooden honey pots anchoring the tablecloth: lavender, orange blossom, and eucalyptus. But the room was a cornucopia of visual and olfactory treats. Marcona almonds were roasting in Reuben's old wood oven, and from the kitchen downstairs wafted scents of all the spices they would be offering their customers fresh over the counter in cloth bags: cinnamon stalks, cloves, anise, ground ginger, juniper berries, finely grated nutmeg. Nora and Beatriz packaged all the spices themselves. They would also offer ribbon-tied bags of Phillip's tea creations served in the café: loose leaves of lemon verbena, dried pennyroyal, black tea with vanilla. All around the room, on the floor, shelves, and counters, were baskets and baskets and baskets of irresistible delights: jars of marmalades and honeys and pure, dark, sugarless chocolate pieces ready to melt with milk at home for the richest hot chocolate. Customers could even buy jars of chocolate shavings, to sprinkle over warmed pears and whipped cream, or over the whipped cream on their hot chocolates. They sold truffles white and dark, with or without rum, biscuits with every variation of nuts and spices, bars small or large of their own chocolate, and dried fruits dipped in chocolate.” ― Karen Weinreb, The Summer Kitchen
“In the sunset, the pebbles on the shore shifted their color from black and gray to honey. They were brightening. Soon the stones would glow, and the water in the bay was going to turn pink and orange. Spectacular in the city center, where people feared to have their pretty daughters go” ― Julia Phillips
“I’m sure it’s very nice that it’s useful, but sometimes things can be valuable just because they’re beautiful. Everything doesn’t have to have a use.” ― Honey Phillips, Extra Virgin Gargoyle
“Honey, you’ll mess up every day. And every day she’ll forgive you for it. That’s how marriages work. It’s easy to say you’ll never get divorced but harder to actually do it. There aren’t any guarantees, even if you take your ‘I do’s’ seriously. What you have to do is show up, every day. That’s how you make it work.” ― Lisa Phillips, Sanctuary Buried
“His muscles twitched in anticipation, but he moderated his steps, determined not to let his absolute weakness for the woman propel him into an unmanly display of emotion. Especially here, under her father’s scrutiny. She, on the other hand, began a jog. Then she broke into a skirt-lifting sprint—as she’d done outside the burning fort. Except this time, she was not running to Phillip, and the only object in flames was Totka’s throat as it burned with the effort to swallow. He braced himself to receive her all-out run, but when she loosed his name on a jagged cry, he dropped his bow, quiver, and decorum and hastened to meet her. She flew hard into his arms, laughing and crying at once, knocking the wind from his chest and the good sense from his brain. His rogue mouth went in search of hers. Despite her happy little murmurings and the sighs hot at his ear, he regained himself and angled away, pressing his cheek to hers, unable to draw her close enough. Her body was softer than he recalled, warmer, more eager. And Little Warrior was right—she smelled as sweet as honey. Nose buried in his shirt, she inhaled until her ribs strained against his hold. “Tell me you’ve come to take me home,” she said on a contented discharge of breath.” ― April W. Gardner, Beneath the Blackberry Moon: The Sacred Writings
