Life... is like a grapefruit. Well, it's sort of orangey-yellow and dimpled on the outside, wet and squidgy in the middle. It's got pips inside, too. Oh, and some people have half a one for breakfast.

I was sand, I was snow — written on, rewritten, smoothed over.

Lemon??!!

Hollywood's a great place to live... if you're a grapefruit.

The fruit of youth or of the grape, the transitory magic of the brief passage from darkness to darkness - the old illusion that truth and beauty were in some way entwined.

Snow was a little bird of a girl,

"A Mixed-breed Apple"

A little mixed-breed apple,
half red, half yellow, tells this story.

A lover and beloved get separated.
Their being apart was one thing,
but they have opposite responses.

The lover feels pain and grows pale.
The beloved flushes and feels proud.

I am a thorn next to my master's rose.
We seem to be two, but we are not.

She had two lips like strawberries, and the seeds gave her kisses texture. I preferred kissing her over two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.

it’s fruitcake weather!

The fruit which is an hundredfold and that which is sixtyfold both spring from one seed,

Her cheeks were bright with a soft vermilion of the pomegranate mingling with the whiteness of the lily.

Eskimos have five words for different kinds of snow, because they live with it and it is important to them. But the Aztec language has but one word for snow, rain, and hail.