Quotes About Dinner

You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties. I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. When we meet—we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go down to the Duke's—we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces.

He looked haggard and careworn, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that he has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommé, and the dinner-gong due any moment.

Ukridge was the sort of man who asks you to dinner, borrows money from you to pay the bill, and winds up the evening by embroiling you in a fight with a cabman.

Nothing upsets a fowl more than having to wait for dinner.

After dinner I ran down to the docks and got soaked again. My big payoff for risking pneumonia was a one-minute conversation with Wendy's mother, who told me that Wendy was asleep and that she already had all her assignments. She didn't tell me that it was a pain and a bother to have me call, but she might as well have. I put in another rough night.

Again, I know that story is suspect in the high precincts of American fiction, but only because it brings entertainment and pleasure, the same responses that have always driven puritanical spirits at the dinner table wild when the talk turns to sexual intercourse and incontinence.

The bell announced that there was food on the table and a women in the kitchen.

Francis Crozier now understood that the most desirable and erotic thing a woman could wear were the many modest layers such as Sophia Cracroft wore to dinner in the governor's house, enough silken fabric to conceal the lines of her body, allowing a man to concentrate on the exciting loveliness of her wit

lately it has become more and more difficult to attend dinner parties without the evening ending in gunfire or tapioca...

If there were any seeds of doubt in my mind as to whether I really loved Adam or just some image of Adam, they were all killed by the frost that was tonight's dinner party. No, wait, that sounds like it was some cold, deadly evening. I mean the opposite. I guess I mean that if the flower of my love for Adam wass being stunted by any feelings of doubt, then tonight fully fertilized my seed and allowed it to grow. That works if you don't think about the face that fertilizer is made if shit.

I was probably singing before I could talk. Musical theater is my passion. If I could afford it, I would just do dinner theater and live a simple life.

You're a romanticist. What do you think a man is, a papaya? To digest your dinner? In pill form?

This was after stew. But then, so is everything. When the first man crawled out of the slime and went to make his home on land, what he had for dinner that night was stew.

Let me get this thing straight, Inigo--we had SCRAPS for dinner? I'M in YOUR fantasy and the best you can come up with is SCRAPS? She turned toward the door then. You have no chance of winning my heart.

Some time after dinner a newsboy rushed into the lobby of the Ambassador with extra editions of a German-language paper, the only one I can read since I do not know Czech. The headlines said: Chamberlain to fly to Berchtesgaden tomorrow to see Hitler! The Czechs are dumbfounded. They suspect a sell-out and I'm afraid they're right.

I suppose we ought to be getting home, in any case." "Oh god, is it wartime already?" "Look on the bright side: it'll be dinner when we get back.

As we head to our last dinner, on a yacht, I am oddly nostalgic for that earlier, more guerrilla Cannes. I wonder if I'd sleep on the floor to get it back.

Do you enjoy reading?' 'I enjoyed Fifty Shades of Grey.' Bryant quailed at the thought. 'That's not really reading, is it? More like staring at an assortment of words.' 'It is very popular.' 'So is taking photographs of your dinner for Facebook, but that doesn't mean it adds to the total sum of human knowledge.

The Googling that might occur before dinner parties, however, confuses me more than the Googling of dead wives, especially since I prefer to have dinner parties where nobody talks about their careers. Isn't that the mark of a failed dinner party? When the conversations resemble job interviews? Wouldn't it actually be preferable, thus, to request that everyone Google the other guests beforehand so our tedious biographies won't need teasing out in person?

All through dinner Arturo and I held hands under the table like a couple of kids, and that made the dinner quite wonderful, even though Mrs. Fletcher kept staring at Olivia as though committing her to memory. It got so bad that Olivia turned to her husband and said: "Has it happened at last, Gerald? Have I become a curiosity?

And there we all were, Miranda, her father, her brother and I, sharing oxygen around a dinner table

Carmen, dear," I said, "I am not the kind of author who wants to be protected from her public. Any fan who phones might want to feed me, and I am totally available as a dinner guest. Just give out my address all over.

In a state of war, one is always waiting. We have become waiting-machines. For the moment it is food we are waiting for. Then it will be the post. But each in its turn. When we have done with dinner we will think about the letters. After that, we shall set ourselves to wait for something else.

They take their pride in making their dinner cost much; I take my pride in making my dinner cost little