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“Who are these people sharing the street with me? What is going on in their worlds, inside their heads? Are they in love? If so, is it the kind that Mum and Dad have? Based on having things in common, like raspberry picking and a love of dogs, and Shakespeare, and long country walks? Or is it the knock-you-out, eat-you-up, set-you-on-fire kind of love that I have longed for-and avoided-all my life?”
― Alison Larkin, The English American

“She picked a raspberry, stared at it a moment, and then popped it into her mouth. For an instant, it felt smooth and tasteless, and then she squashed it. Sharp sweetness exploded gloriously over her tongue. It was so overwhelmingly raspberry that it felt as if it invaded her skull and displaced every thought--- there was only flavor. Powerful, intoxicating flavor. She'd forgotten what a freshly picked berry tasted like.
On Alyssium, the fruit was imported. There wasn't space on the city island for gardens or orchards or berry patches. The emperor had had his greenhouses, filled with delicacies, but a librarian... She hadn't tasted a just-ripened raspberry since her childhood.
It tasted like a bite of sunshine.
Caz poked her ankle. "Are you poisoned?"
"I'm in ecstasy," she corrected.
"Huh," Caz said. "You really think this will work?"
Kiela opened her eyes and again surveyed the wealth of berries before her, a glorious chaos of ruby-red riches, enough to create many jars of jam. "I think it's perfect.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop