For every traveller who has any taste of his own, the only useful guidebook will be the one which he himself has written.
I have my mother who is an Irish-Italian, and my father who is African, so I have the taste buds of an Italian and the spice of an African.
A man of substance should trust very carefully an online networking friend whose shared images are not often palatable to his taste.
Street performances?" "A little singing. A little martial arts. Some interpretive dance." "Wow." "I know! The Portuguese have taste.
Reading non-fiction without writing notes is like chewing without swallowing. You will get the taste of it but digest nothing
I consider myself very lucky, essentially - I was put into a pop group even though my musical taste was very niche before.
I don't pay attention to celebrities. I don't photograph them. They don't dress so... interestingly. They have stylists. I prefer real women who have their own taste.
I have a similar issue with people who hire me as I do with women. 'You have to have a particular taste to want to be around me. I have a slightly askew view.
I started thinking more about music. I thought I'd accepted the fact that, as part of "Being Gretchen," I didn't really like music, but in fact, the truth was slightly different: I thought I didn't like music, but in fact, I didn't approve of my own ...
I have seen it over and over, the same sea, the same, slightly, indifferently swinging above the stones, icily free above the stones, above the stones and then the world. If you should dip your hand in, your wrist would ache immediately, your bones w...
She had come to that state where the horror of the universe and its smallness are both visible at the same time—the twilight of the double vision in which so many elderly people are involved. If this world is not to our taste, well, at all events, ...
Domination and critique have always formed an apparatus covertly against a common hostis: the conspirator, who works under cover, who used everything THEY give him and everything THEY attribute to him as a mask. The conspirator is everywhere hated, a...
Sam: Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields... and eating the first of the straw...
The thing in jazz that will get Bix Beiderbecke out of his bed at two o’clock in the morning, pick that cornet up and practice into the pillow for another two or three hours, or that would make Louis Armstrong travel around the world for fifty plus...
It is the taste of cut steps, bloody fingerprints. Of healed books, smiles on fresh tulips. Of longing and sweet fatigue.
You taste of the sea, of clocks, dark nights, of everything that is soothing and prohibited. Of dawn in the eyes, falling snow and destiny.
Fools have a habit of believing that everything written by a famous author is admirable. For my part I read only to please myself and like only what suits my taste.
In other words, I tasted a different drug. A drug called progress.
I'm just a wretched half-blood girl caught in a storm." Akil tasted his wine and smiled. "Muse, you are the storm.
I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her. I try not to bite her lip. She tastes like vodkahoney.
I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths.
