Bounty Chocolate Quotes

Your tits are like Bounty. The quicker dick picker upper.

In the evenings the family gathered at Kirkwood Hall. Sometimes Andrew cooked, sometimes Delphine. There was a bounty of vegetables from the kitchen garden: tiny patty-pan squash, radishes both peppery and sweet, beets striped deep magenta and white, golden and green, butter lettuce and spinach and peas, zucchini blossoms stuffed with Graham's mozzarella and salty anchovies. Delphine whipped eggs from the chickens into souffles. Chicken- from the chickens, sadly- were roasted in a Dutch oven or grilled under a brick. Plump strawberries from the fields and minuscule wild ones from the forest were served with a drizzle of balsamic syrup or a billow of whipped cream. Delphine's baking provided custardy tarts, flaky biscuits, and deep, dark chocolate cake.

Jesus, is there a homing beacon on those things?” I muttered. I shook my head in amazement at the power that was her boobs. "Your tits are like Bounty. The quicker dick picker upper,

Rabbi Heschel concluded, “As civilization advances, the sense of wonder declines.” We get so preoccupied with ourselves, the words we speak, the plans and projects we conceive, that we become immune to the glory of creation. We barely notice the cloud passing over the moon or the dewdrops clinging to the rose petals. The ice on the pond comes and goes. The wild blackberries ripen and wither. The blackbird nests outside our bedroom window, but we don’t see her. We avoid the cold and the heat. We refrigerate ourselves in summer and entomb ourselves in plastic in winter. We rake up every leaf as fast as it falls. We are so accustomed to buying prepackaged meats and fish and fowl in supermarkets, we never think and blink about the bounty of God’s creation. We grow complacent and lead practical lives. We miss the experience of awe, reverence, and wonder.1 Our world is saturated with grace, and the lurking presence of God is revealed not only in spirit but in matter—in a deer leaping across a meadow, in the flight of an eagle, in fire and water, in a rainbow after a summer storm, in a gentle doe streaking through a forest, in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, in a child licking a chocolate ice cream cone, in a woman with windblown hair. God intended for us to discover His loving presence in the world around us.

I want a dessert." She turns and starts wiping down the clean counters like it's her new mission in life. "I'll go to the farmers' market and get some ripe fruit." "Not. Fruit." Fact is, I can't eat a mango anymore without wanting to suck on Delilah's tongue. "Something rich and sweet and creamy." And now I'm thinking about sinking to my knees before her. Behind the kitchen island, I reach down and adjust myself. Having zero experience with flirting, I don't think I'm doing a proper job of it. I'm only getting myself riled up here. Especially since Delilah's expression remains deadpan. "I don't think any of that is on the approved list." "I think you bring up that damn list to annoy me, Tot." "This is true." She doesn't bother to hide her glee. Like a bee to nectar, I drift closer. "Come on, Delilah. Cheat with me. Just a little?" Shaking her head in clear exasperation, she tosses the cloth into the sink and faces me. "All right, just this once. Name your poison." She isn't in my arms. My mouth isn't on hers. But it's still a victory, and I rub my hands together in anticipation. "Let's see... oh, God, the choices. Your Totally Toffee-Chip Cookies? Your Mad Monster Chocolate Cake?" I stop to think of all the desserts Delilah has made over the years. "Ah. I know... Bountiful Banana Cream Pie.