Pear Quotes

“We have been careless with our pie repertoire. The demise of apple-pear pie with figs and saffron and orengeado pies are tragic losses.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“While I slept you stood in the
colorful night market
with pyramids of bright
fruit piled high

Where those who loved you,
rushing back to their intimate stalls,
held out pears that had been
dreamed for you

And would the dream pear not
come gladly
once it knew this was you
wanting to take it in?

The dream pear chose reality,
wanting your mouth as I did -

Honestly, it was happy to be bitten.”
― Brenda Hillman

“The chaplain glanced at the bridge table that served as his desk and saw only the abominable orange-red, pear-shaped, plum tomato he had obtained that same morning from Colonel Cathcart, still lying on its side where he had forgotten it like an indestructible and incarnadine symbol of his own ineptitude.”
― Joseph Heller, Catch-22

“You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil"
His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her finger glistening with pear juice.
His rich voice lowered to raw huskiness "had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off your fingers”
― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

“Home-grown pears are best eaten in the bath - they're so juicy, it's the easiest way to stay clean!”
― Mitchell Beazley

“But the pear tree was as lovely as ever and as full of flower and as still.”
― Katherine Mansfield, Bliss

“They set aside the quills and inspected the roasted pear, which was filled with mascarpone and scattered with pistachios. Leo considered. "The mascarpone's a good idea," he said. "It's not sweet. There's some cardamom in there too."
Britt nodded. The tuiles that accompanied the pear were caramelized and sparkling with coarse dark sugar. He took a bite of pear and mascarpone and a bite of tuile and chewed, still nodding. Leo took one more bite. "That's actually really good. I hate a mushy pear, but this is just right."
They moved on to the sour cherry cake, which was moist and fragrant with almond and some herbal note that quieted both of them. They sat, tasting and thinking, for several seconds, until Leo said, "Hyssop.”
― Michelle Wildgen, Bread and Butter

“I serve him a portion of chocolate, pear and pepper tart with a glass of chilled rosé. I watch him eat, and think that, in the end, he didn't lie: he is eating in my restaurant. Except it's not supper time, so he did lie. I look at him and think he's feeding off me because I put all of myself into that first tart, that inaugural dessert. I kneaded gently, melted patiently, saved the juice as I sliced, then incorporated it into the pastry, with the Masai-black chocolate, my brown pastry in my hands, rolling it out and shaping it, rolling it out and shaping it, the pepper over the pears because I believe- in the kitchen as in other areas- in the mysterious power of alliteration. The peppercorns are dark on the outside and pale yellow on the inside, not crushed or ground. Sliced. My pepper-mill is a grater, creating tiny slices of spice.”
― Agnès Desarthe, Chez Moi: A Novel

“Eat up, sweet one. And if you ask, I am sure Thrasius will make a pear patina tonight." Apicius's voice always held a special warmth when he addressed his daughter.
"Please, Thrasius! I love it when you make the pears pretty!"
I laughed at her description of the fruit, honey, and egg dish. I always added an extra layer of pears on top, and I had to admit, they did look pretty once they were cooked and shining with oil. "I would be pleased to make that for you, little Domina."
Spontaneously, Apicata ran around the table and gave me a big hug.”
― Crystal King, Feast of Sorrow

“An apple tree will not wish for pears simply because that wish is held for a different kind of tree. But what it can wish for is fruit that is so perfect that it causes the pear tree to wish the same for its fruit.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“I fiori di pero sconsolatamente sciupati dalla pioggia ispirano una sensazione di pietà, i fiori di aronia illuminati freddamente dalla luna suscitano un’impressione di tenerezza. Del tutto differente è la vista delle ombrose camelie. Hanno un aspetto tenebroso, velenoso, terrificante. Proprio perché superficialmente sono abbigliate con tinte sgargianti. Inoltre non sembrano voler civettare con gli uomini né attirarli. Vivono quietamente nell’ombra dei monti, lontane dagli sguardi umani, per centinaia d’anni, e all’improvviso sbocciano e cadono, cadono e sbocciano. Basta uno sguardo per essere perduti. Chi posa i suoi occhi su di loro non potrà più sfuggire alla magia. Quella tinta non è un semplice rosso. È uno strano rosso, come il sangue di un prigioniero giustiziato, che spontaneamente attrae gli sguardi degli astanti e sgomenta i loro cuori. Mentre le contemplo, una rossa corolla cade sull’acqua. Nella tranquilla primavera solo lei si muove. Poco dopo ne cade un’altra. Quel fiore non perde mai i suoi petali. Più che spampanarsi, scivola dal gambo ancora intero. E, di colpo, apparentemente senza rimpianti; vederlo intero anche sul suolo incute una sinistra impressione6. Cade un altro fiore: se continuano a cadere così, penso, l’acqua dello stagno diventerà rossa. Mi sembra che intorno ai fiori che galleggiano serenamente ci sia un alone vermiglio. Ne cade un altro. Rimane così quietamente sospeso che quasi non si capisce se sia caduto sul terreno o sull’acqua.”
― Natsume Sōseki, Kusamakura