“My love may be invisible, but that doesn’t mean you can’t taste it. (It tastes like a sonic boom, only not as bitter).”

“I don't make sonic booms. I want a whip. I like the idea of walking around making sonic booms everywhere.”

“Bittersweet? No, just bitter, the taste of your tongue.Words you can’t have back, so they linger.”

“A sample may taste better than the whole, because it’s meant for a taste test, which is perceptually expected to garner favorable results. This is why I can’t give you all my love. Plus, you don’t have a container big enough to hold all my love.”

“It seems love is the root of all pain and most of its fruit only leaves a bitter taste behind.”

“…Between the poles of sin and adversity, lie such intermediate points as unwise choices and hasty judgments. In these cases, it may be unclear just how much personal fault we bear for the bitter fruits we may taste or cause others to taste. Bitterness may taste the same, whatever its source, and it can destroy our peace, break our hearts, and separate us from God. Could it be that the great ‘at-one-ment’ of Christ could put back together the broken parts and give beauty to the ashes of experience such as this? I believe that it does, because tasting the bitter in all its forms is a deliberate part of the great plan of life. This consequence of the Fall was not just a terrible mistake; rather, it gives mortality its profound meaning: ‘They taste the bitter, that they may know to prize the good’ (Moses 6:55)”