Carolina Reaper Quotes

Sweetness is overrated. And I’m a Carolina Reaper Pepper, spicy man. You can’t handle me. No one can.

Nowadays many people breed peppers specifically to make them as hot as possible. The record holder at the time of writing is the Carolina Reaper at 2.2 million Scovilles. Capsaicin in pure form has 16 million Scovilles. A purified version of a Moroccan spurge plant—a cousin of the innocuous common garden flowering euphorbia—has been measured at 16 billion Scovilles.

I support you no matter what. You want to rage at him? Want to think he said those words to hurt you? Fine. I’ll be ready to slash his tires after my shift today. Daisy will bring the knives.

Son, stop borrowing tomorrow’s troubles.” I huffed a small laugh. It was one of his favorite sayings. “It’s kind of hard not to.

Twenty years ago, the habanero pepper was listed by Guinness World Records as the hottest. It’s now several spots down from the top, but no one has discovered any new peppers. Instead, peppers are engineered in labs to have a heat far beyond nature. Ghost peppers and other hotter-than-hot chilis are little more than a series of never-ending one-upmanship, as scientists and hobbyists genetically engineer and crossbreed peppers to ever higher Scoville units. The Carolina Reaper, for example, was created by a hybrid of the a ghost pepper and a Red Savina Habanero. But to what end? At an insufferable 2.2 million SHU, the Carolina Reaper is too hot to use in the kitchen. These monsters seem to exist solely for hyperbolically labeled hot sauces and competitions at chicken wings restaurants looking to lure in the most susceptible type of person looking to prove himself by consuming hot wings. If you want hot, a habanero will do you just fine.

We both have baggage, Echo. We just have to help each other unpack that shit.

The love? That’s more powerful than any grief. Even if it’s just the memory of it.

You show up for the people you love. You make the sacrifice because, in the end, it’s only the love that matters.

But you’re not alone because people leave you, Echo. You’re alone because you make it impossible to stay. You push everyone away, and that’s on you.

East Coast, there is no one in this world who fits me better than you do. We’re both fucked up puzzle pieces—all jagged and torn. But somehow, we fit.