Quotes About Taste

I love luxury. And luxury lies not in richness and ornateness but in the absence of vulgarity. Vulgarity is the ugliest word in our language. I stay in the game to fight it.

Elegance does not consist in putting on a new dress.

But just as delicate fare does not stop you from craving for saveloys, so tried and exquisite friendship does not take away your taste for something new and dubious.

Rumors concerning his life on the island established his reputation as an adventurer with a taste for the exotic, which was an asset in his line of business.

The balls were dry as wood, you had to lick and suck at them before they tasted like sour cherries. If you chewed them well, the pit felt very smooth and hot on the tongue. Those night cherries were a happy thing, but they only sharpened our hunger.

Es gibt keine passenden Wörter fürs Hungerleiden. Ich muss dem Hunger heute noch zeigen, dass ich ihm entkommen bin. Ich esse buchstäblich das Leben selbst, seit ich nicht mehr hungern muss. Ich bin eingesperrt in den Geschmack des Essens, wenn ich esse. Ich esse seit meiner Heimkehr aus dem Lager, seit sechzig Jahren, gegen das Verhungern.

Johnson's conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to obsequiousness and flattery; it was mustard in a young child's mouth!

To me, food is as much about the moment, the occasion, the location and the company as it is about the taste.

You think about some of the most memorable meals you've ever had the food will be good but it will often be about locating a mental memory and taste is inexorably linked to all the other senses and memory, so ultimately it is all about taste.

If what you buy is good, what you make will be good regardless of the presentation. We may eat with our eyes, but we enjoy with our taste buds.

in her dreams, blood tasted like fizzy strawberry soda. If you drank it too fast, you got brain freeze. When she was older, after she'd licked a cut on her finger, the taste of that became the taste in her dreams: copper and tears.

Then her mouth is sliding against mine. Her lips open, soft and yielding. Our teeth click together, and she tastes like every dark thought I've ever had.

The flavor of that blood stayed with him through the long years of his service (...) by then he could no longer remember whose blood it was, only that he had grown used to the taste.

I am used to the whipped-cream-topped drinks Vivi used to bring me, but there is something satisfyingly bracing about drinking coffee this way, hot and bitter.

She smiled too. 'Have you ever had a boyfriend this bad?' Her words hung in the air a moment. It was the first time any of them had ventured a guess. 'Worse,' he said, 'and girlfriends too. I have terrible taste.' Mary sat down next to him on the bench. 'Girlfriends too?' He nodded and lifted a glass of iced tea to his mouth. 'When you don't know what you're searching for,' he said, 'you have to look absolutely everywhere.

You think because you've got that good royal blood in you, you're better than us,' says the ogre, pressing one long fingernail against the prince's shoulder. 'Maybe you are. Only way to be sure is to have a taste.' There's a drunken wobble to Oak's movements as he pushes off the ogre's hand and obvious contempt in his voice. 'The difference in flavour would be too subtle for your palate.

Since I've been pregnant, I've lost my taste for fast food. I used to be the biggest McDonald's junkie and now I don't like it anymore. I used to be the biggest fast-food connoisseur, and now I've really lost my taste for it.

They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream—excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory.

I still eat rappers. Mmm. Scrumptious.

there was fashion and there was idiocy, and while she was vain enough to love the former, she was not willing to indulge the latter.

The lie tasted of brass, and she suddenly longed for a glass of decent wine and an exceedingly sensational and frivolous novel, read in the comfort of her own bed.

Wine is sort of thrilling and sensual, and bread is familiar and essential.

People are always wine to me, never bread

And if the reader has no taste for what he reads, all the time is wasted