Life's A Bowl Of Cherries Quotes

Life is a bowl of cherries. Some cherries are rotten while others are good; its your job to throw out the rotten ones and forget about them while you enjoy eating the ones that are good! There are two kinds of people: those who choose to throw out the good cherries and wallow in all the rotten ones, and those who choose to throw out all the rotten ones and savor all the good ones.

If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits?

If you have ever opened a can of worms, boxed yourself into a corner, ended up in hot water, or found yourself in a pretty pickle, you already know that life is rarely (if ever) just a bowl of cherries.

Some Days Life's a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It's Just the Pits.

Life is not a bowl of cherries

If you have ever opened a can of worms, boxed yourself into a corner, ended up in hot water, or found yourself in a pretty pickle, you already know that life is rarely (if ever) just a bowl of cherries. It is far more likely to be a bowl of problems, worries, and difficulties. This is normal and should not be cause for alarm.

Life is a bowl of cherrys, but sometimes there is a pit or two.

I think that there are those who write of life being a skip on the sidewalk, a chocolate bar, a bowl of cherries... the problem with that is it ends up disappointing people. Because life is more like being on the tube in London; you never really know what could happen! But then there are those people who bring a box of chocolates to eat on the tube...so life, it isn't a skip on the sidewalk, but it is a matter of strength: "Can I bring my bowl of cherries to feast on while I stand here in the gutter?" that's the essence of life. Can you still put on your rose-colored glasses while your eyes are filled with tears, and see everything in rosy colors? That's the strength that fuels a true life. Can you think to bring your little box of chocolates with you while you sit on the tube running under the streets of London? Because you should. Because even if you don't know anybody, and you don't know what's gonna happen next, you should have your box of chocolates with you. You should eat your bowl of cherries. And that is what life is.

Imagine This Life is not a bowl of cherries Ignore what's in the song It's not a bowl of things at all The song you see, is wrong Think of it as rhubarb And don't forget the custard A mixture of the sharp and sweet And a word to say when flustered.

If life is a bowl of cherries.... do you know how many virgins it took to make that....

Life is a bowl of cherries just make sure you spit out the pits

Miseria fortes viros, Ronan,' Adam said. [Life is not a bowl of cherries. Fire tests gold; adversity tests strong men.]

If life is a bowl of cherries, what's inside of it?

I was struck with how full a silence could be: a Carolina wren sang from the eave of the shed; cedar waxwings carried on whispery bickerings up in the cherry; a mockingbird did an odd jerky dance, as if seized by the bird spirit, out on the driveway. The pea bowl rang like an insistent bell as we tossed in our peas.

Kitchen life is getting steamy. Charles looks up from prepping his mise en place for two seconds, blows me a kiss, and then his hand swipes a bowl of salt and the grains scatter on the counter. "I can't take it anymore," he says, lifting me up onto the prep station. My legs wrap around his waist, as his kiss starts off slow and then turns hungry. Vegetables scatter, cherry tomatoes rolling onto the floor. Dishes break. Not one burner is on, but the kitchen gets hotter. Oh, and hotter. Hello, volcano. His hand latches around my ponytail, tilting my head back. His mouth finds my neck, and he covers it with his kisses, slowly making his way down to my exposed shoulder, his fingers running along my clavicle.

We had pale yellow tile in our bathroom rimmed with thin tiles of white. I’d dumped Tack’s old, mismatched towels and added new, thick emerald green ones. They were hanging on the towel rack. My eyes moved. My moisturizer and toner bottles were the deep hued color of moss. My toothbrush was bright pink, Tack’s was electric blue. There was a little bowl by the tap where I tossed my jewelry when I was washing my hands or preparing for bed. It was ceramic painted in glossy sunshine yellow and grass green. My eyes went to the mirror. My undies were cherry red lace. I grinned at myself in the mirror. I lived in color, every day, and my life was vibrant. I rubbed in moisturizer hoping our baby got his or her Dad’s sapphire blue eyes. But I’d settle if they were my green.

Imagine you are in a classroom and they hand you a test with many interesting multiple choice questions, until you get to “Can you just explain what exactly you believe how the Universe started?” & here are the options. a) The Big Bang b) It’s always been there c) God! or Gods d) A bowl of cherries e) I don’t know…. If you choose (a) then what or who & why caused it? & the test continues…..If you choose (b) that would be my choice. If you choose (c) then who or what created God or Gods? And where do they come from? And if you think they have always been there, the same thing could be said about the universe. If you choose (d) It doesn’t make sense, it is odd, an anomaly, not supposed to be etc :) if you choose (e) then you are being honest. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing. You can make “assumptions” or “pretending” that you know or a book (bible) “knows” or “tells” you but I just don’t buy that. The beauty of it is that you are here today & you can be thankful & enjoy all the life that you have ahead of you. And the test (life) continues with more wonderful questions and experiences :)

He and Powell would be celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary a few days later, and he admitted that at times he had not been as appreciative of her as she deserved. “I’m very lucky, because you just don’t know what you’re getting into when you get married,” he said. “You have an intuitive feeling about things. I couldn’t have done better, because not only is Laurene smart and beautiful, she’s turned out to be a really good person.” For a moment he teared up. He talked about his other girlfriends, particularly Tina Redse, but said he ended up in the right place. He also reflected on how selfish and demanding he could be. “Laurene had to deal with that, and also with me being sick,” he said. “I know that living with me is not a bowl of cherries.” Among his selfish traits was that he tended not to remember anniversaries or birthdays. But in this case, he decided to plan a surprise. They had gotten married at the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite, and he decided to take Powell back there on their anniversary. But when Jobs called, the place was fully booked. So he had the hotel approach the people who had reserved the suite where he and Powell had stayed and ask if they would relinquish it. “I offered to pay for another weekend,” Jobs recalled, “and the man was very nice and said, ‘Twenty years, please take it, it’s yours.’” He found the photographs of the wedding, taken by a friend, and had large prints made on thick paper boards and placed in an elegant box. Scrolling through his iPhone, he found the note that he had composed to be included in the box and read it aloud: "We didn’t know much about each other twenty years ago. We were guided by our intuition; you swept me off my feet. It was snowing when we got married at the Ahwahnee. Years passed, kids came, good times, hard times, but never bad times. Our love and respect has endured and grown. We’ve been through so much together and here we are right back where we started 20 years ago—older, wiser—with wrinkles on our faces and hearts. We now know many of life’s joys, sufferings, secrets and wonders and we’re still here together. My feet have never returned to the ground."  By the end of the recitation he was crying uncontrollably. When he composed himself, he noted that he had also made a set of the pictures for each of his kids. “I thought they might like to see that I was young once.

Good art also transcends the passions. Anything that increases desire increases suffering. Anything that reduces desire—reduces willing, as Schopenhauer puts it—alleviates suffering. When we behold a work of art, we are not craving anything. This is why pornography is not art. It is the exact opposite of art. Pornography’s sole purpose is to stir desire. If it fails to do so, it’s considered a failure. Art aims for something higher. If the only reaction we have to a still-life of a bowl of cherries is hunger, the artist has missed the mark.

Madness is a bowl of poison cherries, chew them and die, but you die screaming in agony.

Life is like a bowl of cherries. You put up with the pits, so you can enjoy the good stuff.

Life doesn't always hand you a bowl of cherries. Sometimes you have to learn how to use the pits.

Politicians continued their mantra, saying that Americans were much too smart to be fooled! As a nation we believed this nonsense. However, as a people, we had no idea what was happening and, even worse, we didn’t know to what extent the depression would affect us. The major problem was that the wealth of the nation was spread unevenly, with the rich getting richer and the poor being abused. A vast difference developed between the country’s productive capacity and the ability of the people to purchase manufactured products. In other words, the consumer base had been eroded to the point where Americans could no longer afford to buy the necessities of life, thus ending the need to manufacture things. As factories closed and people were laid off, the downhill spiral became complete. Everybody was left wondering what had happened to the country that had promised them an opportunity to have a better life than their parents had had. The 1930’s became the most difficult years that the United States had ever had to face economically, and the people we had entrusted with political power and our welfare, caved in to special interest groups. Rudy Vallée typified the era as he sang songs such as Brother, Can You Spare a Dime and Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries, through his handheld megaphone. The dances of the day were the Charleston and the Peabody and, if you believed the film industry, everyone was doing them. Hollywood provided a fleeting escape from reality. That is, if you could afford the price of admission to the theaters that had just opened in almost every hamlet in the country.

But, you know, when a man turns fifty, the weirdest and most disappointing thing happens. Your doctor loses interest in your testicles. And takes an overwhelming interest in your arsehole. It’s the strangest thing. Because the chances of testicular cancer recede as you get older, and the chances of prostate cancer increase. Isn’t life a fucking bowl of cherries?

Life, as has been observed, is not just a bowl of cherries; it is also necessarily filled with disappointment, pain, and suffering. The chase is not always successful and, when it is, another animal pays with its life. Human intelligence and reason only compound the paradoxes and dangers of life; greed, vanity, and the will to dominate, no less than awe and wonder, are also passions native to the human soul. Only the rational animal can be perverse, only the rational animal can play the tyrant, only the rational animal destroys the conditions for his own flourishing and that of his fellow creatures. The highly omnivorous rational animal thus stands in need of perfection through the guiding institutions of law, morality, and custom. We have explored here the direction such guidance should take if we are to realize the higher pointings and deeper yearnings of our peculiarly upright nature: pointings toward community and friendship (encouraged by hospitality and shared meals); pointings toward beauty and nobility (encouraged by gracious manners and the adornments of the table); pointings toward discernment and understanding (encouraged by tasteful dining and lively conversation); and yearnings for a relation to the divine (encouraged by a ritual sanctification of the meal).