“I tasted the sound of his name, sweet and pungent, precious as cinnamon bark.”

“My dear Tartini, one’s life is so sweet and precious that even honey tastes like salt in comparison!”

“Her sweet cinnamon smell intoxicated me.”

“They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream-excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory.”

“Cinnamon Girl" wasn't right for this day, for this time, for what was about to happen. If he were to have music, he thought, maybe Shostakovich, a few measures from the Lyric Waltz in Jazz Suite Number 2. Something sweet, yet pensive, with a taste of tragedy; Qatar was an intellectual, and he knew his music.”

“My capitulation wasn't dependent on a legend or a Shakespearean play, however. You were the reason I fell in love, sweet, precious Sophie." His gazed softened. "How could I help but love you? I feel joy just being with you. I feel pleasure at the sound of your voice...”