Kyoya: I don't like this food. But do you think I'd be so inhuman as to complain after you treated me? That's a rude assumption.
Love is a bird’s nest of emotion that I used as a basket to store picnic items like apples, cheese, wine, and finger foods like thumbs and pinkies.
For him (LBJ) food was not an indulgence but and intoxicant, an object he reached for to fill a gaping void, one he could never fill up.
But don't blame me for the food. My wife knows a hundred and one ways to incinerate a cow, and as far as I can tell she's still experimenting.
I was also supposed to quiz my various companions on a number of important matters such as nostalgia, fear of unknown animals, food fantasies, nocturnal emissions, hobbies, choice of radio program, changes in out look and so forth.
The search for the soul mate, the perfect partner to complete you, is a bit like searching for the perfect food when you’ve got a giant ulcer in your stomach. No matter what you find, it will never be good enough.
Always re-invent yourself. Always try new things; new food, new hobbies, meet new people. That will keep your life from becoming stagnant and boring. And you will have a lot more fun!
Fish strips—where food meets getting naked. My love is also nourishing and nude, and if you want to see it, you’re going to have to get in line with the rest of the starving perverts.
I just thought of a great theory that explains everything. When I went to that party, I was abducted by aliens. They have created a fake Earth and fake high school to study me and my reactions. This certainly explains cafeteria food.
In the perfect Capitalist State there would be no food available for the non-owner save when he was actually engaged in Production, and that absurdity would, by quickly ending all human lives save those of the owners, put a term to the arrangement.
Out of trillions of organisms that were alive at the beginning of time, are alive now and will be alive at the end of time, only one tampers with its food. You do not want to bet against those kinds of odds.
But it is only people who have plenty of money who can despise it. To the rest of us it is important. It can at least put food in our stomachs clothes on our backs, and it can at least feed our dreams.
The monkey liked most humans. They left food cans outside their homes for his family to rummage through in the morning sun. Some yelled and threw sticks, but were slow and didn’t bite. Humans were mostly harmless.
It is very much in the interest of the food industry to exacerbate our anxieties about what to eat, the better to then assuage them with new products.
If you think it is spiritual to burn food in front of starving people in hopes that your gods will bring this back to you in triplicate, you are missing the point and sowing animosity from all sides.
The brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving masks.
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst? Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters.
I chew my food, leaning back into the couch. “I loved him. That’s what dumb girls do.” “You aren’t dumb.” I try to hold back my smile. “I’m hanging out with you, aren’t I?
I am not into nudity on camera, but I would love to wear a banana peel over my penis and eat cat food from a little saucer while you snap off a few pictures of me.
The Italians say “Chow.” To them it means “Bye,” but to me it means food. Of the greetings, goodbye is the desert.
The whole world is dying. Just too slowly and naturally for my liking. Somebody should poison the food by genetically modifying it somehow. But even if that happened, nobody would be stupid enough to buy it—let alone eat it—would they?
