Basket Of Fruits Quotes

Because even the smallest of words can be the ones to hurt you, or save you.

Don't get lost. Give it a try. Go find the place that you're wishing for.

Those who hurt others will also hurt themselves.

I want to believe that I'm not wrong. I want to believe that life isn't full of darkness. Even if storms come to pass, the sun will shine again. No matter how painful and hard the rain may beat down on me.

To forgive or not to forgive... are those my only choices?

We have just witnessed a classic example of what I like to call 'misdirected rage'. I believe the technical term is being an ass.

We're all born with selfish desires, so we can all relate to those feelings in others. But kindness is something made individually by each person...so it's easy to misunderstand when others are trying to be kind to you.

I wish I could've lived my life without making any wrong turns. But that's impossible. A path like that doesn't exist. We fail. We trip. We get lost. We make mistakes. And little by little, one step at a time, we push forward. It's all we can do. On our own two feet.

Sometimes it feels like the whole world is conspiring to destroy my house... " - Shigure Sohma

It's all very simple. But maybe because it's so simple, it's also hard.

Just be yourself and you'll be fine

It's not that I've suddenly become stronger or that something has changed. I'm still shaking. But... We don't have to let those fears stop us. What's most important is that we try to rise above our weakness.

Give them back! Give my tears back, right now——with interest!!

I know it's not good to be weak and helpless. But I don't think it's good to be too strong either. In our society, they talk about survival of the fittest. But we're not animals. We're human.

Ayame: "Yuki, let's deepen the bond between us brothers!" Yuki: "Before you can do that I'll drown you in the deepest part of that lake." Ayame: "As long as we spend time together." Yuki: "On second thought, go drown yourself.

People aren't born with kindness, it grows with them...

Sometimes living can be hard, but it's only because we're alive that we can make each other laugh,cry...be happy! In this world, if that's not a reason for being born in this world...I don't know what is!

Let's try our best? I hope that someday the many, many tears that were shed will be worth it.

Normally I hate people who whine all the time, but in your case, it would be okay to complain. Be selfish, say what you want once in a while. It's okay to let yourself be sad." -Kyo talking to Tohru

Saying she doesn't mind being alone...that she's alright... There isn't a person alive who'd really feel that way!

A novelist can’t be without a kimono and pen!(Shigure)

So let me get this straight. You were living in a tent in the woods, but now you're living with Prince Charming and anger management boy? SERIOUSLY?!

Huh, another queen,” Puck mused, an evil grin crossing his face. “Maybe we should drop in and introduce ourselves, ice-boy. Do the whole, hey, we were just in the neighborhood, and we were just wondering if you had any plans to take over the Nevernever. Have a fruit basket.

When did you become a woman?"-Hatori How dare you ask that after you have seen me naked so many times..."-Yuki GASP! No it cant be! Yuki-kun, does that mean..." fan club girls NO! He's my doctor..."Yuki

That's why I won't give up! I'll continue to move forward because I believe!

Yuki: "What can I learn from a stupid cat like you? You didn’t even know that Jason isn’t really a bear. He’s a character in a horror film." Kyo: "Yeah? So what if I didn’t? Like I’d waste my time watching some movie about a bear!" Yuki: You truly are an idiot.

How do we thank an angel? Somehow I don’t think a fruit basket will do the trick." ~ Amun

Partings are the beginnings of new meetings. Beginnings happen because there are endings.

I... There was a time when I stopped talking. Just like you. My reasons were a little bit different, but I think the feelings of being ashamed of myself and hating myself are the same. Here, it says to "like yourself." What does that mean? Good things- how are you supposed to find them? I only know things that I hate about myself. Because that's all I know, I hate myself. But even if you force yourself to find good things, it feels so empty. It doesn't work that way. People like your teacher just don't get it. I think when you hear someone say they like you, for the first time, then you can begin to like yourself. I think when someone accepts you, for the first time, you feel like you can forgive yourself a little. You can begin to face your fears with courage.

Hatori: "SHIGURE... I WILL TELL EVERYONE IN THE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT YOU, STARTING FROM WHEN YOU WERE FOUR YEARS OLD..." Shigure: "Sorry, Tohru-kun. My lips are sealed!

Tohru: "Call a doctor, or a vet, or something! Mr. Postman! It's terrible! You see?! They're animals!" Mailman: "Well, uh, yes, they certainly are. Here's your mail." Tohru: "No, no, we've got to do something!" (Shigure in dog form grabs the letter.) Mailman: "I wish my dog was as smart. Good day!

Maybe I should call Aaya!(Shigure) If you call him...(Yuki) I'll make you eat that phone.(Kyou) -Shigure-san,Yuki-san, Kyou-kun Shoma

Kyo: Of course, I'll beat YOU, too! Yuki: Don't you ever get tired of saying that? Kyo: Beating you is my vocation! It's my goal in life! Yuki: It's so unfair that I keep having to take abuse just because you can't meet your goals. Kyo: THAT CONDESCENDING ATTITUDE OF YOURS REALLY PISSES ME OFF! Yuki: And that revolting thought process of yours pisses me off.

Hatori: "You won't get very far if you try to threaten me in THAT outfit." Yuki: "Thank you. So much.

No. Never. I have to try my best or I'll become worse and worse. Even if I can't make up with them. Even if they all ignore me. I still have to try my best.

It would be so great if it were possible to go through life without making a single mistake but there is no such path. Falling, tripping, losing the way, making mistakes, little by little, walking one step at a time, this is the only way.

Because if you stay true to yourself and live your life boldly, someday you might be able to meet someone who will want to eat takoyaki with you more than anyone else.

I want to believe that memories, even sad and painful ones, should not be forgotten forever.

Shigure: JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND, KYO! Kyo: SHUT UP! I HATE THIS! DO YOU REALLY GET THAT MUCH ENJOYMENT FROM PLAYING WITH PEOPLES' LIVES?! Shigure: Well, yes, now that you mention it, I do--BUT THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD! Kyo: Man, your persuasion skills SUCK! Tohru: Um, welcome home. Dinner's- Kyo: NOT HUNGRY! Shigure: KYO! DON'T TAKE THIS OUT ON TOHRU! And come back to the entrance hall this instant and take those shoes off! Yuki: He's right, Shigure. You really do suck at persuasion.

Hanajima, my spear! Bring me my spear!

There's no such thing as a person who has to go away.

I'm still willing to continue living with the burden of this memory. Even though this is a painful memory, even though this memory makes my heart ache. Sometimes I almost want to ask God to let me forget this memory. But as long as I try to be strong and not run away, doing my best, there will finally be someday...there will be finally be someday I can overcome this painful memory. I believe I can. I believe I can do it. There is no memory that can be forgotten, there is not that kind of memory. Always in my heart.

It's true. I......I wanted to be born in the year of the cat......!

Human beings are strange creatures. As people come across one another they produce various outcomes. Good things, sometimes. And other times, bad.

Shigure: "That's lovely. She’s so... how shall I say it? By putting it into words I'm afraid the nobility of it all would only be obscured." Yuki: "Of what?" Shigure: "You know, she's so spunky!" Kyo: "You sick bastard!

It's you, so I feel that a person who will understand you, a person who will find you is waiting out there. So just keep on trying your best.

Yuki: "Honda-san... you'd better stop, or he'll get a swelled head." Kyo: "Doesn't Shigure already HAVE a swelled head?

♪Kyo-kun and Tohru sitting in a tree... K-I-S...♪ - Shigure Sohma

If you think of someone's good qualities as the umeboshi in an onigiri it's as if their qualities are stuck to their back! Maybe the reason people get jealous of each other is because they can see so clearly the umeboshi on other people's backs.

Mingling with people, hurting them, getting hurt by them…that's how you learn about others…and about yourself. If you don't you'll never be able to care about anyone but yourself.

I'm home! Yuki-Kun, Tohru-Kun, I'm home! Oh, and let's not forget Stupid-clumsy-Kyo-Kun-who-lost-yet-another-fight!" -Shigure

Alex makes a mental note to figure out which shadowy gay noble taught Henry all this and send the man a fruit basket.

If everything you say gets laughed at... then you become afraid of everyone... and are no longer able to speak... even knowing all that does is bother everyone... Your heart... ....shuts down... And your words die....

Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss. A fellow can’t live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear—and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed—stupid and mean.

To be left behind... or to leave behind. I wonder which hurts more.

...and then a murder mystery will occur.

Arisa: "You bastard! Why don't I teach you a lesson!" Kyo: "I'd like to see you try, bitch!" Yuki: "I have a winning hand." Tohru: "I knew you'd be good at this.

Anyone who knows how scary it is to be alone, can't help loving others." ~Rin Sohma

Life is like a fruit basket. You can eat some of it or wast it and throw some of it out. Only you can chose on wat to do with that fruit basket.

Shigure: "What's in the camera? Huh? Huh? What is it?" Hatori: "Quiet, you hack.

For there to be pain, there has to be kindness. For darkness to standout there has to be the sun. You can't have one without the other, and both have their uses. So even if you stumble and make mistakes, that's not useless. Think of it as fertilizer, sure it feels like crap, but it will help you grow!" ~Kyoko Honda

I know that happy things and fun things eventually come to an end. But things that are scary and sad come to an end too...they always do. Even if you can't always believe that , please don't give up. Live.

OY! Stop playing around and lets cook already!" *smack* J-just now, that made a really loud noise.." Do you wanna hear it again?" N-no, you'll just hit me again!" Kyo and Tohru

Waddya want me to do? through my sling shot at him?

If only it was effortless to understand you because if it wasn't so. . .there wouldn't be any point to be by your side... —kakeru manabe

You don't have to be 'adults'... but be someone who can take responsibility for their own words and actions. Believe it or not, that's actually harder.

It's because you're like that that you're still a virgin, you know.

Ayame: Hello, Tori-san!! You're not going to believe what Yuki just told me!

Everyone just laughed. But then, I closed my eyes and deeply thought about the story of the tourist, deeply thinking about that story of how many times he was lied to and when he had only his head left, he still thankfully cried. And then, I understood it. Ahh, that's "love", isn't it? Am I right? Loss... All sorts of pain... He never thought about it. The tourist never thought of himself. And even though he's an idiot to lots of people, to me, he's not an idiot at all. A lot of people would take the chance to cheat him, but I would never do that. I would want to make him happy, and that's all.

Shigure: "Lemme guess; you lost your temper and yelled at her again, right? You know, you shouldn't do that if you're just going to regret it. Not too bright, now is it?" Kyo: "Save your breath. I'm just not meant to get along with other people. Period. End of story." Shigure: "Oh sure, some people just aren't. But you're not one of them. You lack experience, that's all. For example, I'm sure you could smash this table to bits with your bare hands. But I'm equally sure you could punch the table without breaking it. And why is that? Because I know your training has taught you to control your fists... at least I should hope so, after four months of fighting bears and-" Kyo: "I didn't fight bears!" Shigure: "My point is, it takes just as much training to get along with people. Only, training by yourself in the mountains won't do you any good. You need to surround yourself with others. As you get to know them, of course you take the chance that you'll end up hurting them, or they'll end up hurting you. One of those things might very well happen. That's the only way we learn... about others, and about ourselves. You're a black-belt in martial arts, but I'd guess you still a white-belt in social skills. Someday, you're going to meet someone that truly wants to be your friend, and you, theirs. But it if you don't keep training, you won't be ready when that happens." Kyo: "It'll never happen, anyways!" Shigure: "Uh-uh! Never say never." Kyo: "Ok, fine. Maybe if I meet someone with brain-damage... or something." Shigure: "That's the spirit!

On the plane leaving Africa, I had a vision of Mama Africa, a powerful and proud African woman carrying the abundant fruits of Africa in a basket. She accompanied me as I gazed down on the continent I was leaving. She would be with me in my new country, Mama Africa assured me, and I would forever be a child of Africa.

You're trying to find it. You're probably trying to find- the reason that you live- all by yourself. Because...because, in reality, there aren't any people who are born with reasons to live. I think that...that everyone has to find their reason to live. A reason to live. A reason to say that it's okay to be here. A reason for being. Everyone must find out and then decide. Maybe in a dream, or in a job, or in a person. "The reason" you find might be unclear, uncertain, and unstable. Even though you may lose it, I want to have a reason for as long as I live. I also want one. And then, if it's possible, I want to find it in somebody's heart. I want to be able to live for someone. I hope that someday, someone would tell me, 'You can think of it that way.' At times I want to give up, but I try my best. That's why...that's why it's okay, for sure, to be shameless. Because if you lead a bold life, someday you might meet someone with whom you'll want to eat takoyaki together.

OH KYO KUN! Isn't it said that eating pink noodles turns you into a horny pervert?!

It's lonely to say goodbye. Very lonely. Please. Cry with me. Maybe there's nothing we can do about this. But at least, for now...cry with me. Like your entire body...is screaming at the sky. Like it's raging against the world. I lost something. And I don't have a single guarantee. The fear of living in this world again after that...I have only a shred of hope to sustain me. So I want you at least...to cry. Cry. Cry with me. Like the day you were first born into this world.

Hatori: "That being said, Yuki... when did you become a woman?" Yuki: "How dare you say that after you've seen me naked so many times...

He gets hurt by the smallest touch. It'll be okay, as long as there will finally be a day. Eventually, one day. It will be good if all our burdens would finally be released. I really hope you can do it. I hope you two can both live happily.

People aren't born social. Sure it comes easier to some people but most people, like you, need to work at it. Some more than others. You're just inexperienced.

I kept making you cry... didn't I? - Hatori Sohma

If there is anything you can do, it may just be to smile for them. Because when you smile, the world seems just a little kinder. For you to just be yourself is a very important thing, I think.

Ritsu: "I’m a complete failure. At everything I do, I’m absolutely worthless. I know this, and yet I continue to burden the human race with my presence. Every day I rob the world of valuable air by breathing. I’m a thief, and I hate myself for it. I don’t deserve to exist. But even though I know it’s the right thing to do, I’m such a useless coward. I don’t even have the courage to jump!" Tohru: "No, don’t! Don’t jump! It’s okay that you don’t have that kind of courage. The important thing is you’re alive. And life hurts sometimes and sometimes it can be hard, but it won’t always be that way. There’s gotta be a reason for you to live.

Why does that kid think so highly of himself?" "Kids that think they're so smart.They're everywhere! Destroy is self-esteem!" "Yes...I really do think highly of myself.People like me should get a taste of the ups and downs of life! Sorry I'm so envious.I will reflect upon this. Please don't be angry. "Ah..um.." "There, I said it now. Are you satisfied?" ........ "Bye bye!" Beat him.....Beat him until he reaches heaven...!!! -random people and Hiro-chan

Just tell me what's so irritating."(katsu) That's none of your damn business!"(kyok) Maybe not. But I'm curious."(katsu) It's EVERYTHING you prick! God, you're annoying! It's everything,okay?! EVERYTHING PISSES ME OFF! Them! And them! And them! And YOU! Everyone and everything!I HATE YOUR GODDAMN GUTS! You just...You all treat people like garbage. But you're all just as bad!QUIT TRYING TO ACT LIKE YOU'RE ALL FRIGGIN' PERFECT! Leave me alone. I wish everyone would just...go. Get out of my life. I'd be better off with YOU DEAD! DIE! DIE! GO TO HELL! YOU DISAPPEAR! YOU FALL APART!"(kyok) Really? I think you WANT them to care. You want them to look at you, don't you? All those people. You want them to need you. You want them.....to listen to you. To understand somehow. You want them to accept you. I think.... you want them to love you.You know something? I'm like that, too."(katsu) ... Wh-why? Why did I....turn out....like this?"(kyok) You're asking me?"(katsu) That's what..That's what I wanna know. Why? Why...did I..?!"(kyok) Where did she go wrong? What was her mistake? "I'm miserable. I feel so alone!"(kyok) -Katsuya and Kyoko Honda

Did you hear that! Yuki, the heartless Yuki! Heartless Yuki has begged me with tears to let him visit my shop!

KYO, YOU DUMMKOPF!!" ~ Momiji Sohma

Maybe i'm not perfect, Maybe i have a long way to go. But someday...... someday i'll be able to stand and walk on my own. Without hurting anyone.....and without being a burden

Repeat the good. And the bad. Do it all...and pile on the years.

My happiness comes from the kindness of those around me.

You flounder through life, struggling desperately so you won't drown, even though you would float if you'd just relax.

However, I can’t be happy. I feel I can’t have that experience, I can’t assume I will have that experience. I’m free but feeling lonely and disheartened. I hope there’s happiness out there; besides the future is approaching and waiting for me. In the future, I will be a part of the world. I will finally live my life.

Shigure:"A summer home like this by the lake, you half expect JASON to show up!" Yuki: "There he goes again..." Kyo: (Thinking to himself) Jieison...Jaysun? Now where have I heard that before? Shigure: "'Jason' is a new species of bear. You're so ignorant, Kyo-Kun." Kyo: "SHUT UP! I KNEW THAT!!" Hatori:"That's not it..." Tohru:"Is it a foreign kind of bear?" Hatori:"....

...My goal might be impossible for me. Even so... I think it would be great if it came true. So I keep believing.

Everytime you fall down or take the wrong path, it isn't wasted. You will surely develop and grow over time.

I'm sure that inside your heart you're trying with all your might to find it on your own... the reason you were born. Because really, there might not be anyone who was born with a reason. I think... that everyone... everyone might have to find one on their own. A reason for being born, a reason that it's okay to be alive, a reason to exist. I think everyone might have to find it themselves... and decide it for themselves... The reason you're looking for might be vague, unclear and uncertain. And you might lose it. But as long as you're alive, you have to keep searching for that reason.

I invited Intuition to stay in my house when my roommates went North. I warned her that I am territorial and I keep the herb jars in alphabetical order. Intuition confessed that she has a ‘spotty employment record.’ She was fired from her last job for daydreaming. When Intuition moved in, she washed all the windows, cleaned out the fireplace, planted fruit trees, and lit purple candles. She doesn’t cook much. She eats beautiful foods, artichokes, avocadoes, persimmons and pomegranates, wild rice with wild mushrooms, chrysanthemum tea. She doesn’t have many possessions. Each thing is special. I wish you could see the way she arranged her treasures on the fireplace mantle. She has a splendid collection of cups, bowls, and baskets. Well, the herbs are still in alphabetical order, and I can’t complain about how the house looks. Since Intuition moved in, my life has been turned inside out.

Ritsu: Please, Onii-san, please write with takoyaki power! Mitsuru: Yes, sensei! With ikyayaki or takoyaki or whatever it takes! Write quickly, without hesitation! Ah... Um... W-what is takoyaki power? Ritsu: Well, that is--! When Shigure-niisan eats takoyaki, he transforms into a great warrior... Shigure: No I don't.

It's lonely to say goodbye. Very lonely. Partings are the beginnings of new meetings. Beginnings happen because there are endings…Meetings. Beginnings. It's not too late…to believe in them after the fact.

If you didn't have someone to hate, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself, would you?

Sometimes...I just want to run away from it all

If it is possible for one person to be hurt by another... Then, it is possible for that person to be healed by another as well.

A sixth sense cannot make up for a total lack of common sense.

Shigure: Perhaps I can offer some advice? ...You know, Tohru-kun, when you get anxiety about the future it's better not to think about it. And let's not wipe our faces with dishtowels... For example let's say, Tohru-kun, that you are surrounded with a mountain of laundry piled so high around your feet that you can't move. Are you with me? Now, let's assume you don't have a washing machine, so you have to wash everything individually by hand. You would be at a loss for what to do, right? You'd worry about if you could ever wash everything, if you could get it all clean, if you'd ever have time for anything but laundry ever again! The more you'd think about it, the more anxious you'd get. But the time keeps passing, and the laundry doesn't wash itself. So what do you do, Tohru-kun? It might be a good idea to start washing the laundry right at your feet. Of course it's important to think about what lies ahead, too, but if you only look at what's down the road you'll get tangled in the laundry at your feet and you'll fall, won't you? You see, it's also important to think about what you can do now, what you can do today. And if you keep washing things one at a time, you'll be done before you know it. Because fortune is looking out for you. Sometimes the anxiety will start to well up, but when it does, take a little break. Read a book, watch TV, or eat soumen with everyone. Oh my, I'm shocked! Wow! What a wonderful analogy! I really must treat myself to some soumen as a reward... Oh! I'd like some tea, too! Kyo: Why you... You just wanted to eat soumen, didn't you?!

A dementor,” I say. “What in God’s holy name is that?” “A dementor? From Harry Potter?” “Well, put your hood back, for the love of Jesus. And who are you supposed to be?” “Kim Kardashian,” says Leah, just completely deadpan. Garrett looks confused. “Tohru from Fruits Basket.

Life is still better than University. In school, your teacher is the fruit picker and you are the open fruit basket. Then you take those fruits and make cakes and pies. But life is going to give you the chance to go out there and pick those fruits yourself. Then you can eat them, or make them into something else; any which way, your own hands picked them!

Oh good, apparently when you have sex with Brooklyn Heart, you leave with a fruit basket. What a lovely experience.

Giving is an act of generosity. Giving is sowing a seed. The seed will produce great harvest of fruits.

He's just explaining the situation to her, but he's all over her every chance he gets! Kureno! Touching Tohru!!!

Because you are like that sky. Because I feel it so much that it breaks my heart…I love you.

Tohru(thinking): There is an umeboshi-- on your back. Tohru (outloud): Maybe the reason people get jealous of eachother is because they can clearly see the umeboshi on other people's backs. I can see them too. I can see them perfectly. There is an amazing umeboshi on your back, Kyo-kun.

I know that happy things and fun things eventually come to an end. But things that are scary and sad come to an end, too. They always do. Even if you can’t always believe that…please don’t give up. Live. I want you to live. Even if you make a mistake. Even if you take the long way. It’s still okay. Just please…please, live. Don’t give up on pushing forward. Please. At least don’t give up on that. Even if I’m not by your side, it’s still okay. It’s okay.

I want us to be together. From now on, living with you, together. I hate not being with you… Because I love you.

And if when everything ends, nothing is left in my hands...that's alright.

It's frightening that there's no guarantee that I'll be loved.

The sun goes down, but it always comes up again. No matter how dark, no night lasts forever, so I'll start again one step at a time. -Tohru Honda (Season 3, Episode 1.)

I travelled the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market, my cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream and all the ways were well known to me. One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy in the fields, the pastures crowded with cattle; the breast of earth heaved with the mirth of ripening rice. Suddenly there was a tremor in the air, and the sky seemed to kiss me on my forehead. My mind started up like the morning out of mist. I forgot to follow the track. I stepped a few paces from the path, and my familiar world appeared strange to me, like a flower I had only known in bud. My everyday wisdom was ashamed. I went astray in the fairyland of things. It was the best luck of my life that I lost my path that morning, and found my eternal childhood.

Ayame: In fact, perhaps it would be easier if we just discussed me instead. Yuki: What would be the point in that? Ayame: Oh, in that case, I should be prepared to talk about why I chose this lyrical professional overflowing with fantasy! It's because I wanted to create something. Even I, who have a charisma that wafts of noble refinement, have times when I lose confidence! Ans so I had this uncontrollable urge to try making something. Anything, it didn't matter what. It just so happened that dress-making suited me best.... I just wanted to make sure that I had the power to make something. Maybe I wanted to know if I could create something with my own hands. If there could be something that couldn't exist without me.

Every night greets the dawn. There is no night that goes on forever.

Strangely enough, when you get older the things you didn't understand when you were a child start to make sense. "When this happened, I should have done that." "When that happened, I should have said this." those types of things. You start to understand rather than regret. It may be closer to repentance. So it may be that I do want to repent and erase the ignorant self from my childhood.

This one day her mother gave her a basket of wine and cake to take to her grandmother because she was ill. Wine and cake? Where's the aspirin? The penicillin? Where's the fruit juice? Peter Rabbit got camomile tea. But wine and cake it was.

For every child who wants to be accepted wholly and loved unconditionally, there are others who simply want to be accepted for who they are, even if they receive only a fraction of love. I don't think one cancels out the other. I don't believe that there is any right or wrong... we simply coexist.

She doesn’t let anyone see it...but on the other side of that door, I somehow get the feeling that she’s quietly falling apart.

The wish of peeking at women showering is also a kind of romance.

Just as there's rejection in this world, there are people who will reach out to you.

Even if you've never experienced the wonderful things in life, only after something has been contaminated and marred will it become a beautiful thing. Pain can be healed with gentle care, darkness can be removed with sunlight. Don't underestimate the small things. Everything is significant.

I want to live my life, carrying my memories with me. Even if those memories are painful, even if those memories do nothing but hurt me, even if I wish I could forget those memories… As long as I keep carrying them with me, and don’t run away from them… Someday, I believe I will get to the point where I’m not oppressed by those memories. That’s what I want to believe. I’d like to think that there’s not a single memory that I have which would be okay to forget.

Tohru: Shigure is always smiling. But, I wonder if I gave him some problems with my request. Yuki: The only ones who can truly understand what Shigure is thinking is Hatori and... a few other people. Someone has said this before. It is said that he is like a "tide..." A tide that carries you away when you get too close to it. The tide touches your feet... But when you reach down to touch it, it will have already departed. It is within your reach, yet you may never catch it...

There was a time I stopped talking, just like you. My reasons were a little bit different, but... I think the feelings of being ashamed of myself and hating myself... are the same. Here it says "to like yourself." What does that mean? Good things---how are you supposed to find them? I only know things that I hate about myself. Because that's all I know: I hate myself. Even if your force yourself to find good things... it feels so empty. It doesn't work that way. People like your teacher just don't get it. I think... when you hear someone say they like you for the first time... then you can begin to like yourself. I think when someone accepts you for the first time... you feel like you can forgive yourself a little. You can begin to face your fears. ~Yuki

A successful society is a progress machine. It takes in the raw material of innovations and produces broad human advancement. America’s machine is broken. When the fruits of change have fallen on the United States in recent decades, the very fortunate have basketed almost all of them.

Even if you don’t have hope right now, I promise it will come to you again. Again and again, hope will always bloom.

Mom told me...it's better to trust people than to doubt them. She said that people aren't born with kind hearts. When we're born, all we have are desires for food and material things. Selfish instincts, I guess. But she said that kindness is something that grows inside of each person's body...but it's up to us to nurture that kindness in our hearts. That's why kindness is different for each person. Mom taught me that people's differences are something to celebrate...When I thought of all the different shapes of human kindness--imaging them as round or square...I got really excited. Your kindness is like a candle, Sohma-kun. I can feel it light up...and I just want to smile. -Tohru

But...I think...I want to live with all my memories. Even if they're sad memories. Even if they're memories that only hurt me. Even...even if they're memories that I'd rather forget. If I keep them and I keep trying, without running away...if I keep trying, then someday...someday I'll be strong enough that those memories can't defeat me. I believe that...I want to...believe that. Because I want to think...that there's no such thing...as a memory that's okay to forget. -Momiji

Dahlia shook her head. “While I don't want to experience that again, I learned a lot about myself today and about you. And Nick, even. I didn't know it was possible for me to feel closer to you. I should send that fucking bitch a fruit basket.

My feelings for Ansel were as real as they could have been at the time. But they were like a painting of...oh, I don't know, a basket of fruit. Nice to have but never truly satisfying. And Shen." She smiled, without meaning to. "Well, my feelings for Shen are like real fruit. A whole mountain of fresh fruit! Apples and berries and pears and bananas...

Live the kind of life you can be proud of in the end, even if you get lost or make mistakes along the way. The kind of life that'll earn you a "you fought well"... have lots of happy and sad times, and grow old like that.

Don't hate me. Tell me...everything' s okay. I was always so ashamed. I was ashamed of my weakness. But...I want you to say it. Just once...even if it's a lie. I know it will give me the courage...to try and become strong.

If someone talks trash, you can just trash them back. Clamming up in a corner makes the thing half your fault." "[...] There are people out there who get crushed by that logic.

Who called the idiot brigade?

Sometimes, I just want to run away from it all - Fruits Basket

There would never be room for an onigiri in a fruits basket.

I wish I could've lived my life without making any wrong turns. I wish I could have lived in a kind world. Without anxiety. Without fear. Without hurting other people. Without being hurt myself. Only doing the right things. I wish I could have followed the shortest path to the kind world I wished for. "That's wrong." "That's stupid." When it comes to other people's lives you can say that kind of irresponsible dreck as much as you want. I wish I could've lived my life without making any wrong turns. But that's impossible. A path like that doesn't exist. We fail. We trip. We get lost. We make mistakes. And little by little, one step at a time we push forward. It's all we can do. On our own two feet. Even if we get a little banged up. Someday, we'll reach something. We'll reach someone. We pray. Come on. It's time to start walking.

But listen! Wherever you look there's meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss. A fellow can't live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear—and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed—stupid and mean.' Jake

On those luminous mornings Adela returned from the market, like Pomona emerging from the flames of day, spilling from her basket the coloful beauty of the sun –the shiny pink cherries full of juice under their transparent skins, the mysterious apricots in whose golden pulp lay the core of long afternoons. And next to that pure poetry of fruit, she unloaded sides of meat with their keyboard of ribs swollen with energy and strength, and seaweeds of vegetables like dead octopuses and squids–the raw material of meals with a yet undefined taste, the vegetative and terrestrial ingredients of dinner, exuding a wild and rustic smell.

If only we’d been born into a kind world...without anxiety...without fear. If we could live without hurting other people...and without being hurt. A world in which we always did what was right. If only we could have found a shortcut to the kind world we all hope for.

The earth sometimes rewards humans who do good works for the planet. Look out for unexpected windfalls of produce from the earth such as baskets of fruit or vegetables given to you unexpectedly, nature handcrafts, or a bunch of flowers picked from a beloved garden. These are all signs that the gifts not only came from the giver but from Mother Earth herself. - Fairy of the woods

It would have been nice if we could have lived our lives without taking any wrong turns. But such a thing isn't possible. We still stumble...we lose our way, we make mistakes and yet little by little, one step at a time we keep on walking forward. With our own two feet... even if we get beaten and bruised along the way we'll eventually reach something. We'll eventually reach someone. Until then we'll keep wishing. So... let's start walking.

I do want to be with him. Not being able to...breaks my heart. It breaks my heart.

I always have to lose my way first before finding my answer. But then, everyone does.

I ain't gonna give up on myself. I'm done with that.

It's true that this world isn't enveloped in light. But...there's more to it than that. It isn't all darkness. There's more to it than that.

I don't want to lose to the darkness. I want to have faith and move forward.

Even now someone might be envying another for something they don't see in themselves. They might be longing for a quality they already posses.

To some degree...he has the same effect on people. People naturally flock to him. It's like he's giving off a light that I don't have. It's so bright I feel like I'll be extinguished.

To me...she was spring. It was as if while imprisoned inside the dark cage of the inner family...I had completely frozen into snow...and then there she was--fresh, clear spring. It was almost inevitable that..I would fall in love with her. -Hatori

When did I start feeling like my name had a special ring to it whenever you called out to me? When did I start doing dumb stuff over and over again, as long as I knew it would make you smile. When did I start...loving you so much I couldn't stand it?

it takes just as much training to get along with people. Only, training by yourself in the mountains won't do you any good. You need to surround yourself with others. As you get to know them, of course you take the chance that you'll end up hurting them, or they'll end up hurting you. One of those things might very well happen. That's the only way we learn... about others, and about ourselves. You're a black-belt in martial arts, but I'd guess you still a white-belt in social skills. Someday, you're going to meet someone that truly wants to be your friend, and you, theirs. But it if you don't keep training, you won't be ready when that happens." ~Shigure Sohma

It might be a good idea...to start washing the laundry right at your feet. Of course it's important to think about what lies ahead, too...but if you only look at what's down the road...you'll get tangled in the laundry at your feet and you'll fall, won't you? You see...it's also important to think about what you can do now, what you can do today. And if you keep washing things one day at a time...you'll be done before you know it. Because fortune is looking out for you.

It takes just as much training to get along with people. Only, training by yourself in the mountains won't do you any good. You need to surround yourself with others. As you get to know them, of course you take the chance that you'll end up hurting them, or they'll end up hurting you. One of those things might very well happen. That's the only way we learn... about others, and about ourselves.

Being left behind, or leaving behind...I wonder which hurts more.

My course of action depends on me.

The greatest regret I have in this life...is that that creature came out of my body.

Thomas glared at the fruit basket, and the fruit basket glared back.

Just as all good things, happy things, fun things must come to an end...scary and sad things will also come to an end. Always. Even if you can't believe it when it happens, please...please don't give up. Live. I want you to live. You might make mistakes or lose your way...but please...please live. Don't ever stop moving forward. Please...that's all I ask. Don't give up. Even if...I'm no longer at your side.

We’re searching for a reason of existence. With our own strength, because maybe the truth is that there’s no reason for life from the very beginning. Everyone hopes and tries so hard to find a reason of existence. The reason of birth, of staying with someone, of existence, believing we have to find them all with our own hands. Like finding a place for ourselves in dreams, in jobs, in people. The reasons we conclude may be indefinite and fragile. We may lose it too, but even so, we want a reason. As long as I’m alive, I want it too. If possible, I want to find a reason of existence within a person, within someone.

He was baffled to know that apricot trees existed in, of all places, our orchard. On late afternoons, when there was nothing to do in the house, Mafalda would ask him to climb a ladder with a basket and pick those fruits that were almost blushing with shame, she said. He would joke in Italian, pick one out, and ask, Is this one blushing with shame? No, she would say, this one is too young still, youth has no shame, shame comes with age.

In the Anishinaabe worldview, it’s not just fruits that are understood as gifts, rather all of the sustenance that the land provides, from fish to firewood. Everything that makes our lives possible—the splints for baskets, roots for medicines, the trees whose bodies make our homes, and the pages of our books—is provided by the lives of more-than-human beings. This is always true whether it’s harvested directly from the forest or whether it’s mediated by commerce and harvested from the shelves of a store—it all comes from the Earth. When we speak of these not as things or natural resources or commodities, but as gifts, our whole relationship to the natural world changes.

It's okay. Calm down. Listen. We never asked you to do more than you can handle, and we're not going to. There's a difference between trying your best and trying too hard. When you want help, ask for help. And quit...apologizing for everything!

There was a small woven basket waiting on his desk the next day, still smelling like warmed-from-the-oven sin. A note was attached written with the words “Have a good day!” A drawing of a tiny dog chasing a butterfly completed the absurdity. He stood in front of his desk, just staring at it and the basket for a full minute. Asps didn’t smell like baked items, but the latter were no less dangerous. He tented the edge of the cloth cover with his smallest finger. Three fruit tarts lay inside. Poisoned most likely.

You’re so perfect, Tink. So little and tight. Your pussy is everything I’ve been waiting for. Thank you.” She giggles a little. “You’re thanking me?” “If you had any idea how good this feels, you’d understand. I’m going to send your pussy a fruit basket tomorrow.

Your life is yours and yours alone. No one has the right to take it from you. That's right- no one. Not even your parents. And if someone wants threatens to take it from you...it's okay to run and never look back. You're more than allowed to protect yourself. Expecting someone to smile and say thank you to their family...when that "family" is stepping all over them- that's just abuse. It's just a curse.

(And did I mention how in summer the streets of Smyrna were lined with baskets of rose petals? And how everyone in the city could speak French, Italian, Greek, Turkish, English, and Dutch? And did I tell you about the famous figs, brought in by camel caravan and dumped onto the ground, huge piles of pulpy fruit lying in the dirt, with dirty women steeping them in salt water and children squatting to defecate behind the clusters? Did I mention how the reek of the fig women mixed with pleasanter smells of almond trees, mimosa, laurel, and peach, and how everybody wore masks on Mardi Gras and had elaborate dinners on the decks of frigates? I want to mention these things because they all happened in that city that was no place exactly, that was part of no country because it was all countries, and because now if you go there you'll see modern high-rises, amnesiac boulevards, teeming sweatshops, a NATO headquarters, and a sign that says Izmir...)

If you think of someone’s good qualities as the umeboshi in an onigiri it’s as if their qualities are stuck to their back! People around the world are like onigiri. Everyone has an umeboshi with a different shape and color and flavor. But because it’s stuck on their back they might not be able to see their umeboshi. “There’s nothing special about me. I’m just white rice.” That’s not true. There is an umeboshi on your back. Maybe the reason people get jealous of each other is because they can see so clearly the umeboshi on other people’s backs…even now someone might be envying another for something they don’t see in themselves. They might be longing for a quality they already possess. When I think of it that way even just a little I realize that I need to do my best with the qualities I have, even if I can’t always see what they are.

One look at the officials in the American Consulate where we went for dreary paper routines was enough to make you realize what was wrong with American 'diplomacy' throughout the Fellaheen world: - stiff offcious squares with contempt even for their own Americans who happened not to wear neckties, as tho a necktie or whatever it stands for meant anything to the hungry Berbers who came into Tangiers every Saturday morning on meek asses, like Christ, carrying baskets of pitiful fruit or dates, and returned at dusk to silhouetted parades along the hill by the railroad track. The railroad track where barefooted prophets still walked and taught the Koran to children along the way. Why didn't the American consul ever walk into the urchin hall where Mohammed Maye sat smoking? or squat in behind empty buildings with old Arabs who talked with their hands? or any thing? Instead it's all private limousines, hotel restaurants, parties in the suburbs, an endless phoney rejection in the name of 'democracy' of all that's pith and moment of every land.

After all...you have courage in your heart.

I can't give up. Something...there must be something I can do. I want to believe that. I have to believe that.

That 'me' is becoming a memory, too.

I can't. Stop...don't go anywhere...don't leave me.

My mom said that when you become a parent you understand for the first time what a parent feels. But…but what you really need to understand what you really shouldn’t forget is what you felt like as a child. The first time you did a somersault, the first time someone got really mad at you…If you can really remember how you felt when you were a child even when you’re an adult or a parent, then you can understand each other. Even if it’s not 100% you can meet each other half-way…she said. Because thinking that way reminds you that life is fun.

It’s better to trust people than to doubt them.' She said that people aren’t born with kind hearts. When we’re born all we have are desires for food and material things. Selfish instincts, I guess. But she said that kindness is something that grows inside of each person’s body but it’s up to us to nurture that kindness in our hearts. That’s why kindness is different for each person. 'We’re all born with selfish desires, so we can all relate to those feelings in others. But kindness is something made individually by each person. So it’s easy to misunderstand when others are trying to be kind to you.' Mom taught me that people’s differences are something to celebrate. When I thought of all the different shapes of human kindness -- imagining them as round or square I got really excited… 'But Tohru…Tohru, believe in people. Doubting is easy -- anyone can do it. Tohru, be someone who can believe. I’m sure that will be your strength.

I can't get the words out. I have to gather my courage. Courage...it's time to be brave. I'm not going to put the lid back on. This feeling...can't be stopped anymore. It's time to be brave.

His heart did that funny thing it did whenever Asa did something thoughtful. Which was surprisingly often for a psychopath who liked hunting his bedmates instead of seducing them. Had Thomas taught them to be this attentive? Was it all part of the…curriculum? Maybe every man should be forced to take Thomas Mulvaney’s How to Be a Human class. He should send his future father-in-law a fruit basket.

Kyo: ...I can't help it. I'm...not made for interacting with people. Shigure: People aren't born social. Sure it comes easier to some people...but most people, like you, need to work at it. Some more than others. You're just inexperienced. For example, as a martial artist, you have the strength to break the table with your first. But you also have the self-control to stop your fist right before it hits the table. You weren't born with that control, were you? You had to refine it. That's the result of fighting bears in the mountains. Kyo: I DIDN'T FIGHT BEARS! Shigure: You're missing my point. It's the same as interacting with people. But training for that isn't in the mountains--it has to be in town where people live. Mingling with people, hurting them, getting hurt by them...that's how you learn about others...and about yourself. If you don't, you'll never be able to care about anyone but yourself. You may be a black belt fighter, but you're still a white belt in dealing with people. For the sake of the girl who will one day tell you she loves you...don't run away, keep training. Kyo: As if someone would ever tell me that. Shigure: And if someone did, what would you do? Kyo: I can't even imagine. I guess...I'd ask her if she was sane.

It would have been nice if we could have lived our lives without taking any wrong turns. But such a thing isn’t possible. We fall, we stumble...we lose our way, we make mistakes. And yet, little by little...one step at a time...we keep on walking forward with our own two feet. Even if we get beaten and bruised along the way, we’ll eventually reach something. We’ll eventually reach someone. Until then, we’ll keep wishing. So...let’s start walking.

Roses climbed the shed, entwined with dark purple clematis, leaves as glossy as satin. There were no thorns. Patience's cupboard was overflowing with remedies, and the little barn was often crowded with seekers. The half acre of meadow was wild with cosmos and lupine, coreopsis, and sweet William. Basil, thyme, coriander, and broad leaf parsley grew in billowing clouds of green; the smell so fresh your mouth watered and you began to plan the next meal. Cucumbers spilled out of the raised beds, fighting for space with the peas and beans, lettuce, tomatoes, and bright yellow peppers. The cart was righted out by the road and was soon bowed under glass jars and tin pails of sunflowers, zinnias, dahlias, and salvia. Pears, apples, and out-of-season apricots sat in balsa wood baskets in the shade, and watermelons, some with pink flesh, some with yellow, all sweet and seedless, lined the willow fence.

A picnic basket in Paris is like a treasure chest- untold riches in a limited space. The first apricots had appeared at the market, their skins fading from speckled red to glowing orange to burnished gold, like the sun-bleached walls of an Italian villa. There were tiny cucumbers, as thick as my thumb and curled like a ribbon. I'd become obsessed with a new fruit called a pêche plat, a flat peach. Imagine a perfectly ripe white peach that someone has sat on. Gwendal picked up a tomato and bit into it like an apple. I did the same. At the bottom of the basket was a carefully folded square of waxed paper. Inside was a small mound of rillettes, shredded pork cooked in its own fat until meltingly smooth.

You ought to make something for Easter. You know. Eggs and stuff. Chocolate hens, rabbits, things like that. Like the shops in Agen." I remember them from my childhood; the Paris chocolateries with their baskets of foil-wrapped eggs, shelves of rabbits and hens, bells, marzipan fruits and marrons glacés, amourettes and filigree nests filled with petits fours and caramels, and a thousand and one epiphanies of spun-sugar magic carpet rides more suited to an Arabian harem than the solemnities of the Passion. "I remember my mother telling me about the Easter chocolates." There was never enough money to buy those exquisite things, but I always had my own cornet-surprise, a paper cone containing my Easter gifts, coins, paper flowers, hard-boiled eggs painted in bright enamel colors, a box of colored papier-mâché- painted with chickens, bunnies, smiling children among the buttercups, the same every year and stored carefully for the next time- encasing a tiny packet of chocolate raisins wrapped in cellophane, each one to be savored, long and lingeringly, in the lost hours of those strange nights between cities, with the neon glow of hotel signs blink-blinking between the shutters and my mother's breathing, slow and somehow eternal, in the umbrous silence.

I thought about you. Every day.” I froze, my hand still holding the canvas flap. Cal’s voice was slightly hoarse as he continued. “Three weeks is a long time to wonder where someone is. All that time, I thought maybe I’d done the wrong thing, telling you to find the Brannicks.” I turned around then. I wanted to make a joke, or say something sarcastic, anything that would cut the tension enveloping us. Instead, I said, “I thought about you, too.” Cal glanced up, and I met his eyes. “Cal, you…you saved my dad’s life. You tried to save Archer’s.” My chest ached, saying that out loud, but I made myself go on. “That’s so huge, I don’t even know where to start. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t really cut it, you know? And I’m not sure there’s a fruit basket big enough to-“ He rose to his feet, and suddenly his arms were around me and my face was pressed against his chest. He smelled good, and familiar, and tears sprang to my eyes as I put my hands on his back and pressed him closer. He stroked my hair. “He might be okay, Sophie,” Cal murmured. “The Eye could’ve gotten him out.

She CAN’T say it. To tell someone who cares about you that you’re being teased is really hard to do. I…couldn’t say it either. But after a while my mom found out and then…I would apologize to her like I was stupid. I would feel so pathetic. I would think that I was so pathetic for being teased. I was ashamed when my mom found out. I wondered…what would I do if she started to hate me? I was so scared. I was so scared I didn’t want anyone to know I was like that. I would desperately make up stories to try and hide it. And then I’d feel even more pathetic and ashamed so when mom told me, “It’s okay” I was so relieved. When she told me, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I was so relieved that I started crying again. Kisa-san might be feeling the same way. She didn’t want you to hate her. It’s because she loves you…that she couldn’t tell you.

People came from far and wide to see the Italian Gardens and buy a honeycomb or damson jam in the farm shop. The wool from the sheep and the cheese from the goats drew buyers in a queue the day they were ready for purchase. In June, the pick-your-own strawberry fields were filled with children carrying baskets of berries, their lips stained red with sweet juice. In August, the dahlia fields were so flush with color that the cloudy days seemed brighter, and in autumn the apple and pear orchards were woven through with ladders and littered with overflowing bushels.

A few of my Aramean ancestors went to Egypt. We grew into an entire nation there. The Egyptians enslaved us and treated us like shit, so we asked Yahweh, our forefathers’ god, for help. He turned Egyptian waters to blood, chased the Egyptians with frogs and insects, leperized them, turned off their sun, killed all their firstborn sons, and finally, he drowned Pharaoh and his entire army in the sea—all to free us from Egypt. Now he gave us this beautiful paradise. So thank you, Yahweh, for killing all the Canaanites and giving us their land! Here is a nice fruit basket for you!

If you think of someone's good qualities as the umeboshi in an onigiri, it's as if their qualities are stuck to their back! People around the world are like onigiri. Everyone has an umeboshi with a different shape and color and flavor. But because it's stuck on their back, they might not be able to see their umeboshi. There's nothing special about me. I'm just white rice. That's not true. There is an umeboshi -- on your back. Maybe the reason people get jealous of each other, is because they can see so clearly the umeboshi on other people's backs. I can see them, too. I can see them perfectly. There's an amazing umeboshi on your back, Kyo-kun.

What would you like for your own life, Kate, if you could choose?” “Anything?” “Of course anything.” “That’s really easy, Aunty Ivy.” “Go on then.” “A straw hat...with a bright scarlet ribbon tied around the top and a bow at the back. A tea-dress like girls used to wear, with big red poppies all over the fabric. A pair of flat, white pumps, comfortable but really pretty. A bicycle with a basket on the front. In the basket is a loaf of fresh bread, cheese, fruit oh...and a bottle of sparkly wine, you know, like posh people drink. “I’m cycling down a lane. There are no lorries or cars or bicycles. No people – just me. The sun is shining through the trees, making patterns on the ground. At the end of the lane is a gate, sort of hidden between the bushes and trees. I stop at the gate, get off the bike and wheel it into the garden. “In the garden there are flowers of all kinds, especially roses. They’re my favourite. I walk down the little path to a cottage. It’s not big, just big enough. The front door needs painting and has a little stained glass window at the top. I take the food out of the basket and go through the door. “Inside, everything is clean, pretty and bright. There are vases of flowers on every surface and it smells sweet, like lemon cake. At the end of the room are French windows. They need painting too, but it doesn’t matter. I go through the French windows into a beautiful garden. Even more flowers there...and a veranda. On the veranda is an old rocking chair with patchwork cushions and next to it a little table that has an oriental tablecloth with gold tassels. I put the food on the table and pour the wine into a glass. I’d sit in the rocking chair and close my eyes and think to myself... this is my place.” From A DISH OF STONES

The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentleman, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced broad-girthed Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered lanes; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.

A few minutes later Agnes had reached the market and was battling through the throng. She stepped over rotting offal and cabbage leaves to prod breasts of pheasant and partridge. She sniffed oysters and herrings and asked the prices of oranges, shouting her requirements over strident cries of "New mackerel!" and "White turnips and fine carrots, ho!" and "Fine China oranges and fresh juicy lemons!" She watched a juggler with blackened teeth catching knives in his mouth, then sampled a corner of gingerbread so spicy tears welled in her eyes. The street child had slipped from her thoughts. Within the hour, Agnes had arranged deliveries with half a dozen tradesmen whose goods she could not carry, and jotted every item and its price in her notebook for Mrs Tooley's accounts. In her basket she had carefully stowed sweet oranges, Jordan almonds, two dozen pullet eggs, a pickled salmon, half a pound of angelica, the same of glacee cherries.

I had to watch my uncle get strung up when I was a child,” she finally said after she returned from the faraway place in her mind. “The white man would only sell us the rotten fruit and vegetables from their bug-infested baskets. We had to collect that mess from the back of the store like we were a pack of wild mutts picking through garbage. My uncle had had enough of his apples having maggots crawling out of them, so he started farming his own vegetables for us to eat. The white man didn’t like that. Not. One. Bit. It’s amazing how their minds work. The way their minds work is the reason we call them devils because only a devil could think the way they do. They were mad about the loss of profit because they no longer had us buying the filthy rot they peddled. “My uncle produced such a high quality of fruits and vegetables that he had white folks coming to buy from him. It wasn’t too long after this started, those devils came in their white hoods and burned his garden to ash. Then they strung him up. We were forced to watch my uncle dangle from the neck while he pissed and shit himself. God will forgive my mouth saying it because he knows I only speak the truth. The evilness that resides inside the mind of those devils still exists in the minds of the ones who wear cop’s uniforms and judge’s robes. This is what our boys are up against. Our boys are at war! They freed us from our chains, so that they could lock us in their jails.

And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling air, and the ragged old rooks'-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front garden. Now I am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are—a very preserve of butterflies, as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock; where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket, while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unmoved. A great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlour. When my mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair, I watch her winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and nobody knows better than I do that she likes to look so well, and is proud of being so pretty.

How we doing on the Beatitudes?” “Pardon me?” “The blesseds.” “We’ve got: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; blessed are the poor in spirit, the pure in heart, the whiners, the meek, the—” “Wait, what are we giving the meek?” “Let’s see, uh, here: Blessed are the meek, for to them we shall say, ‘attaboy.’” “A little weak.” “Yeah.” “Let’s let the meek inherit the earth.” “Can’t you give the earth to the whiners?” “Well then, cut the whiners and give the earth to the meek.” “Okay. Earth to the meek. Here we go. Blessed are the peacemakers, the mourners, and that’s it.” “How many is that?” “Seven.” “Not enough. We need one more. How about the dumbfucks?” “No, Josh, not the dumbfucks. You’ve done enough for the dumbfucks. Nathaniel, Thomas—” “Blessed are the dumbfucks for they, uh—I don’t know—they shall never be disappointed.” “No, I’m drawing the line at dumbfucks. Come on, Josh, why can’t we have any powerful guys on our team? Why do we have to have the meek, and the poor, the oppressed, and the pissed on? Why can’t we, for once, have blessed are the big powerful rich guys with swords?” “Because they don’t need us.” “Okay, but no ‘Blessed are the dumbfucks.’” “Who then?” “Sluts?” “No.” “How about the wankers? I can think of five or six disciples that would be really blessed.” “No wankers. I’ve got it: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” “Okay, better. What are you going to give them?” “A fruit basket.” “You can’t give the meek the whole earth and these guys a fruit basket.” “Give them the kingdom of heaven.” “The poor in spirit got that.” “Everybody gets some.” “Okay then, ‘share the Kingdom of Heaven.’” I wrote it down. “We could give the fruit basket to the dumbfucks.” “NO DUMBFUCKS!” “Sorry, I just feel for them.” “You feel for everyone, Josh. It’s your job.” “Oh yeah. I forgot.” We finished writing the sermon only a few hours before Philip and Thaddeus returned from Judea leading three thousand of John’s followers.

22 grams cinchona bark 4 grams dried hawthorn berries 8 grams dried sumac berries 2 grams cassia buds 3 cloves 1 small (2-inch) cinnamon stick, preferably Ceylon cinnamon 1 star anise 12 grams dried bitter orange peel 4 grams blackberry leaf 51⁄4 cups spring water 50 grams citric acid 2 teaspoons sea salt 1 stalk lemongrass, cut into 1⁄2-inch sections Finely grated zest and juice of 2 limes Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon 1⁄2 cup agave syrup Combine the cinchona bark, hawthorn berries, sumac berries, cassia buds, cloves, cinnamon, and star anise in a spice mill or mortar and pestle and crush into a coarse powder. Add the orange peel and blackberry leaf, divide the mixture among three large tea baskets or tea bags, and put a few pie weights in each. Bring the water to a boil in a large stainless-steel saucepan. Add the tea baskets, citric acid, and salt. Let simmer for 5 minutes. Add the lemongrass, cover partially, and let simmer 15 minutes longer. Add the lime and lemon zests and juices and let simmer, uncovered, until the liquid is reduced by a little less than half, making about 3 cups. Remove from the heat and remove the tea balls. Pour the agave syrup into a bowl. Set a fine-mesh strainer over the bowl and strain the tonic into the syrup. You will need to work in batches and to dump out the strainer after each pour. If the tonic is cloudy, strain again. Pour into a clean bottle and seal. Store in the refrigerator for up to 1 year.

Mathias remembered that once when he was a boy, he'd gone up to a pile of red apples that lay in the market cart, in the market near Stolberg where his father often took him. He'd always loved apples, and he couldn't resist the temptation of grabbing one out of the pile. He chose the closest, a splendid red piece of fruit that he would never forget because of his overwhelming desire to take it and hide it in the folds of his clothing. A moment after Mathias reached out and snatched it, the pile slid and applies tumbled down all around him. The farmer, who knew his father, would have been satisfied with an apology. But his father, a successful craftsman who was well-known and respected in the town, had insisted on purchasing an entire basketful of apples, because of the trouble Mathias had caused. Mathias got the worst scolding his father had ever given him. Not because of the money, but for the small act of petty thievery, which an upright man like his father would never tolerate. He shouldered his punishment, and in the end was only allowed to eat as single apple from the basket. He spent the night thinking about the pile. He had to remove only one and the whole thing had come down. He wondered if the same thing might happen with any tower, no matter how majestic and imposing it might seem, were someone to remove the right stone from the base. The thought stayed with him throughout his life. Venice now seemed a lot like that pile of apples. If three murders truly represented an irresistible opportunity, then which nobleman would have seized it, knowing that such a thing would cause La Serenissima and everything it represented to come crashing down?

Alas, great is my sorrow. Your name is Ah Chen, and when you were born I was not truly pleased. I am a farmer, and a farmer needs strong sons to help with his work, but before a year had passed you had stolen my heart. You grew more teeth, and you grew daily in wisdom, and you said 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' and your pronunciation was perfect. When you were three you would knock at the door and then you would run back and ask, 'Who is it?' When you were four your uncle came to visit and you played the host. Lifting your cup, you said, 'Ching!' and we roared with laughter and you blushed and covered your face with your hands, but I know that you thought yourself very clever. Now they tell me that I must try to forget you, but it is hard to forget you. "You carried a toy basket. You sat at a low stool to eat porridge. You repeated the Great Learning and bowed to Buddha. You played at guessing games, and romped around the house. You were very brave, and when you fell and cut your knee you did not cry because you did not think it was right. When you picked up fruit or rice, you always looked at people's faces to see if it was all right before putting it in your mouth, and you were careful not to tear your clothes. "Ah Chen, do you remember how worried we were when the flood broke our dikes and the sickness killed our pigs? Then the Duke of Ch'in raised our taxes and I was sent to plead with him, and I made him believe that we could not pay out taxes. Peasants who cannot pay taxes are useless to dukes, so he sent his soldiers to destroy our village, and thus it was the foolishness of your father that led to your death. Now you have gone to Hell to be judged, and I know that you must be very frightened, but you must try not to cry or make loud noises because it is not like being at home with your own people. "Ah Chen, do you remember Auntie Yang, the midwife? She was also killed, and she was very fond of you. She had no little girls of her own, so it is alright for you to try and find her, and to offer her your hand and ask her to take care of you. When you come before the Yama Kings, you should clasp your hands together and plead to them: 'I am young and I am innocent. I was born in a poor family, and I was content with scanty meals. I was never wilfully careless of my shoes and my clothing, and I never wasted a grain of rice. If evil spirits bully me, may thou protect me.' You should put it just that way, and I am sure that the Yama Kings will protect you. "Ah Chen, I have soup for you and I will burn paper money for you to use, and the priest is writing down this prayer that I will send to you. If you hear my prayer, will you come to see me in your dreams? If fate so wills that you must yet lead an earthly life, I pray that you will come again to your mother's womb. Meanwhile I will cry, 'Ah Chen, your father is here!' I can but weep for you, and call your name.

She hadn’t always been obsessed with babies. There was a time she believed she would change the world, lead a movement, follow Dolores Huerta and Sylvia Mendez, Ellen Ochoa and Sonia Sotomayor. Where her bisabuela had picked pecans and oranges in the orchards, climbing the tallest trees with her small girlbody, dropping the fruit to the baskets below where her tías and tíos and primos stooped to pick those that had fallen on the ground, where her abuela had sewn in the garment district in downtown Los Angeles with her bisabuela, both women taking the bus each morning and evening, making the beautiful dresses to be sold in Beverly Hills and maybe worn by a movie star, and where her mother had cared for the ill, had gone to their crumbling homes, those diabetic elderly dying in the heat in the Valley—Bianca would grow and tend to the broken world, would find where it ached and heal it, would locate its source of ugliness and make it beautiful. Only, since she’d met Gabe and become La Llorona, she’d been growing the ugliness inside her. She could sense it warping the roots from within. The cactus flower had dropped from her when she should have been having a quinceañera, blooming across the dance floor in a bright, sequined dress, not spending the night at her boyfriend’s nana’s across town so that her mama wouldn’t know what she’d done, not taking a Tylenol for the cramping and eating the caldo de rez they’d made for her. They’d taken such good care of her. Had they done it for her? Or for their son’s chance at a football scholarship? She’d never know. What she did know: She was blessed with a safe procedure. She was blessed with women to check her for bleeding. She was blessed with choice. Only, she hadn’t chosen for herself. She hadn’t. Awareness must come. And it did. Too late. If she’d chosen for herself, she would have chosen the cactus spines. She would’ve chosen the one night a year the night-blooming cereus uncoils its moon-white skirt, opens its opalescent throat, and allows the bats who’ve flown hundreds of miles with their young clutching to their fur as they swim through the air, half-starved from waiting, to drink their fill and feed their next generation of creatures who can see through the dark. She’d have been a Queen of the Night and taught her daughter to give her body to no Gabe. She knew that, deep inside. Where Anzaldúa and Castillo dwelled, where she fed on the nectar of their toughest blossoms. These truths would moonstone in her palm and she would grasp her hand shut, hold it tight to her heart, and try to carry it with her toward the front door, out onto the walkway, into the world. Until Gabe would bend her over. And call her gordita or cochina. Chubby girl. Dirty girl. She’d open her palm, and the stone had turned to dust. She swept it away on her jeans. A daughter doesn’t solve anything; she needed her mama to tell her this. But she makes the world a lot less lonely. A lot less ugly.  

A long time ago, I collected the flower petals stained with my first blood; I thought there was something significant about that, there was importance in all the little moments of experience, because when you live forever, the first times matter. The first time you bleed, first time you cry — I don’t remember that — first time you see your wings, because new things defile you, purity chips away. your purity. nestled flowers in your belly, waiting to be picked. do you want innocence back? small and young smiles that make your eyes squint and cheeks flare the feeling of your face dripping down onto the grass, the painted walls you tore down, the roads you chipped away, they’ll eat away at you, the lingering feelings of a warm hand on your waist, the taps of your feet as you dance, the beats of your timbrel.’ ‘and now you are like Gods, sparkling brilliant with jewelry that worships you, and you’re splitting in order to create.’ ‘The tosses of your wet hair, the rushes of chariots speeding past, the holy, holy, holy lord god of hosts, the sweetness of a strawberry, knocks against the window by your head, the little tunes of your pipes, the cuts sliced into your fingers by uptight cacti fruits, the brisk scent of a sea crashing into the rocks, the sweat of wrestling, onions, cumin, parsley in a metal jug, mud clinging to your skin, a friendly mouth on your cheeks and forehead, chimes, chirps of chatter in the bazaar, amen, amen, amen, the plump fish rushing to take the bread you toss, scraping of a carpenter, the hiss of chalk, the wisps of clouds cradling you as you nap, the splashes of water in a hot pool, the picnic in a meadow, the pounding of feet that are chasing you, the velvet of petals rustling you awake, a giant water lily beneath you, the innocent kiss, the sprawl of the universe reflected in your eyes for the first time, the bloody wings that shred out of your back, the apples in orchards, a basket of stained flowers, excited chants of a colosseum audience, the heat of spinning and bouncing to drums and claps, the love braided into your hair, the trickles of a piano, smell of myrrh, the scratches of a spoon in a cup, the coarseness of a carpet, the stringed instruments and trumpets, the serene smile of not knowing, the sleeping angel, the delight of a creator, the amusement of gossip and rumors, the rumbling laughter between shy singing, the tangling of legs, squash, celery, carrot, and chayote, the swirled face paint, the warmth of honey in your tea, the timid face in the mirror, mahogany beams, the embrace of a bed of flowers, the taste of a grape as its fed to you, the lip smacks of an angel as you feed him a raspberry, the first dizziness of alcohol, the cool water and scent of natron and the scratch of the rock you beat your dirty clothes against, the strain of your arms, the columns of an entrance, the high ceilings of a dark cathedral, the boiling surface of bubbling stew, the burn of stained-glass, the little joyous jump you do seeing bread rise, the silky taste of olive oil, the lap of an angel humming as he embroiders a little fox into his tunic, the softness of browned feathers lulling you to sleep, the weight of a dozen blankets and pillows on your small bed, the proud smile on the other side of a window in a newly-finished building, the myrtle trees only you two know about, the palm of god as he fashions you from threads of copper, his praises, his love, his kiss to your hair, your father.