And, of course, the funniest food of all, kumquats.
A converted cannibal is one who, on Friday, eats only fishermen
A man may be a pessimistic determinist before lunch and an optimistic believer in the will's freedom after it.
What is stronger than a mother's love? The smell of spring onions on your girl's breath.
Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled.
A three-year-old gave this reaction to her Christmas dinner: "I don't like the turkey, but I like the bread he ate."
Quotations are a columnist's bullpen. Stealing someone else's words frequently spares the embarrassment of eating your own.
It takes great passion and great energy to do anything creative, especially in the theater. You have to care so much that you can't sleep, you can't eat, you can't talk to people. It's just got to be right. You can't do it without that passion.
Success to me is having ten honeydew melons and eating only the top half of each slice.
If we're not supposed to eat animals ... how come they're made out of meat?
Some men are born to feast, and not to fight; Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field, Still on their dinner turn-- Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home, And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.
Tis not her coldness, father, That chills my labouring breast; It's that confounded cucumber I've ate and can't digest.
And she said, As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die.
But he answered and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.
That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.
Trust no one unless you have eaten much salt with him.
For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
A friendly swarry, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton with the usual trimmings.
When I demanded of my friend what viands he preferred, He quoth, "A large cold bottle, and a small hot bird!"
Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.
Here, dearest Eve," he exclaims, "here is food." "Well," answered she, with the germ of a housewife stirring within her, "we have been so busy to-day that a picked-up dinner must serve
He rolls it under his tongue as a sweet morsel.
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