Quotes About Taste

Spice is life. It depends upon what you like... have fun with it. Yes, food is serious, but you should have fun with it.

Life is but a fine wine to be sipped and favored.

A Moment's Halt-a momentary taste Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste- And, Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd The NOTHING it set out from. Oh, make haste!

This bread has been anointed by God, I said to myself. He wants me to have it.... All I know is, when I am old, gray and bedbound and everything else has gone, I will still remember how good it tasted.

I think love is caramel. Sweet and fragrant, always welcome. It is the gentle golden color of a setting harvest sun; the warmth of a squeezed embrace; the easy melting of two souls into one; and a taste that lingers even when everything else has melted away. Once tasted, it is never forgotten. And that is all I have to say about that.

I think love is caramel. Sweet and fragant; always welcome. It is the gentle golden colour of a setting harvest sun; the warmth of a squeezed embrace; the easy melting of two souls into one and a taste that lingers even when everything else has melted away. Once tasted it is never forgotten.

Compared to you, everyone else is saltines. Even Cam. And I hate saltines. You know that.

WITH BLEEDING INSIDE THE HEAD THERE IS A METALLIC TASTE AT THE BACK OF THE THROAT.

Judges of elegance and taste consider themselves as benefactors to the human race, whilst they are really only the interrupters of their pleasure.

Passion, like discriminating taste, grows on its use. You more likely act yourself into feeling than feel yourself into action.

Dane glanced again at the piece of art, studying the sculpture with a critical eye. Definitely not his cup of Joe. But then, he wasn't the type to appreciate fine art unless it was done on black velvet and had a picture of dogs playing poker.

I don't know why, it's the same reason why you like some music and you don't like others. There's something about it that you like. Ultimately I don't find it's in my best interests to try and analyze it, since it's fundamentally emotional.

The secret of food lies in memory - of thinking and then knowing what the taste of cinnamon or steak is.

Artistic qualities that once seemed undeniable don't seem so now. Sometimes these fluctuations are only fickleness of taste, momentary glitches in an artist's work, or an artist getting ahead of his audience (it took me ten years to catch up to Albert Oehlen). Other times, however, these problems mean there's something wrong with the art.

I have a soft spot for art that, in terms of subject matter and material, is in bad taste.

Yes, 85 percent of the art you see isn't any good. But everyone has a different opinion about which 85 percent is bad. That in turn creates fantastically unstable interplay and argument.

I love art dealers. In some ways, they're my favorite people in the art world. Really. I love that they put their money where their taste is, create their own aesthetic universes, support artists, employ people, and do all of this while letting us see art for free. Many are visionaries.

Many art-worlders have an if-you-say-so approach to art: Everyone is so scared of missing out on the next hot artist that it's never clear whether people are liking work because they like it or because other people do. Everyone is keeping up with the Joneses, and there are more Joneses than ever.

When I was a kid, I could taste the difference between different colored M&Ms. I thought the red was heartier, more of a main course M&M. And the light brown was a mellower, kind of after-dinner M.

none of which pleased my pedestrian palate.

They tasted a new snack called Cracker Jack and a new breakfast food called Shredded Wheat.

A child develops individuality long before he develops taste. I have seen my kid straggle into the kitchen in the morning with outfits that need only one accessory: an empty gin bottle.

As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.

This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.