if you think they didn't go crazy in tiny rooms just like you're doing now without women without food without hope then you're not ready.
If by that you mean that I dislike celebrity magazines, prefer food to anorexia, refuse to watch TV shows about models, and hate the color pink, then yes. I am proud to be not really a girl.
...quality of life lies in knowledge, in culture. Values are what constitute true quality of life, the supreme quality of life, even above food, shelter and clothing.
The human beings also passed canteens, which guards would fill with water. When food came in, the human beings were quiet and trusting and beautiful. They shared.
The brain is not nourished on beans and truffles but rather the food manages to reconstitute the molecules of the brain once it has been turned into homogeneous and assimilable substances, which potentially have the "same nature", as the molecules of...
My mother use to say she would rather be dead than not eat the foods she liked. At eighty-six she met with death but she enjoyed every breath
Like pets, I name my leftover food. Only I name them all after myself, partly so my coworkers won’t eat them in the fridge, but mostly out of vanity.
At no moment in history has a bright young girl with plenty of food and a good constitution perished from too much learning.
It was a stark choice: shoes or food; beauty or sustenance; the sensible or the self-indulgent. "I'll take the shoes," she said firmly.
Then the singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from everyone's very heart. There was no sense of performance or judgment, only that the music was breath and food.
Workers who pick the food we eat cannot afford to feed themselves.
I have a lot of time for vegetarians (though apparently not of them have a lot of time for me), and that's because I respect anyone with principles about food.
Her model of self-control with food is why I have never had an issue in this area. Praise God for my mom's good example in how to eat.
There’s a hair in my food! Well, I did order all the cuddles I can eat. A buffet of sleep is how I describe my love to strangers on trains.
Dinner was good. The conversation was great, but the food was bad, so it averaged out. I wish I were as good in bed as I am in the kitchen.
My attic is the size of a can of cat food, only filled with more meows and not as tasty. So you see, I have nowhere to store all my love but in your heart.
In the rather informal survey I have taken over the years on intensity of interest in food by profession, lawyers rank only a few trades below concert pianists....
The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit. Of course, Tally thought, you’d have to feed your cat only salmon-flavored cat food for a while, to get the pinks right.
Tupperware? I don’t know. That’s what my mom did.” “Well, my mom had to bring bigger containers for food when the family ate outdoors. But she used this when she and Dad . . .
I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.
It is with eight lengthy legs we use to catch food, balance and knit a beautiful silk bed, but as babies we had lost our bones and skin, and hence our legs we had shed.
