Quotes About Food

The capacity to be grateful is a blessing, for the possession of which we should be further grateful. We are taught to pray day by day for the food we need, not for a great store to be laid by for the distant future.

A culinary triumph: the ingenious use of food as an offensive weapon.

Little world, full of little people shouting for recognition, screaming for love, Rolling world, teeming with millions, carousel of the hungry, Is there food enough? Wheat and corn will not do. The fat are the hungriest of all, the skinny the most silent.

If we gave up eating beef we would have roughly 20 to 30 times more land for food than we have now.

The class of citizens who provide at once their own food and their own raiment, may be viewed as the most truly independent and happy.

The class of citizens who provide at once their own food and their own raiment, may be viewed as the most truly independent and happy. They are more: they are the best basis of public liberty, and the strongest bulwark of public safety. It follows, that the greater the proportion of this class to the whole society, the more free, the more independent, and the more happy must be the society itself.

Popcorn for breakfast! Why not? It's a grain. It's like, like, grits, but with high self-esteem.

The meal had included five courses, an irony for a summit that had gathered to discuss world hunger. The

He liked to read with the silence and the golden color of the whiskey as his companions. He liked food, people, talk, but reading was an inexhaustible pleasure. What the joys of music were to others, words on a page were to him.

Boris laughed, and threw out some fake-looking gang sign. "Suit yourself, yo," he said, in his "gangsta" voice (discernible from his regular voice only by the hand gesture and the "yo") as he got up and roll-walked out. "Nigga gotz to eat.

with all your chick peas and your filthy little pocket breads?

She had taken a degree in Domestic Science in a college in northern England, and used notebooks from her class to order the household's meals. Sunday: roast beef. Monday: collops with sippets of toast (mince). Tuesday: beef stew. Wednesday: brawn. Thursday: steak and kidney pie. Friday: stewed oxheart. Saturday: tripe and onions. To be a white housewife was hardly arduous.

I suppose that was just something you ate; or are you bloody well pregnant as well?

The sight of the food made Jerott want to vomit. He said cheerfully, 'Well, well. Thank God you're a dab hand at chess.' 'If you're going to be bright,' said Lymond, with a soft and frightening venom, 'I'll break your sweet little neck.

They expected to be fed; and Lady Buccleuch, for whom pregnancy spelled food, had already taken strategic foothold by the windows, where the cold dishes were ready laid.

And by forcing the damn-fool public to pay twice over – once to have its food emasculated and once to have the vitality put back again, we keep the wheels of commerce turning and give employment to thousands – including you and me.

The waiter approached. 'Would you like to see the menu?' he said. 'Or would you like to meet the Dish of the Day?' 'Huh?' said Ford. 'Huh?' said Arthur. 'Huh?' said Trillian. 'That's cool,' said Zaphod. 'We'll meet the meat.

Despite the fact that an Indonesian island chicken has probably had a much more natural life than one raised on a battery farm in England, people who wouldn't think twice about buying something oven-ready become much more upset about a chicken that they've been on a boat with, so there is probably buried in the Western psyche a deep taboo about eating anything you've been introduced to socially.

Would you like to see the menu? he said, or would you like meet the Dish of the Day? ... "Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?

Fenchurch had red mullet and said it was delicious. Arthur had a swordfish steak and said it made him angry. He grabbed a passing waitress by the arm and berated her. "Why's this fish so bloody good?" he demanded, angrily.

We'll meet the meat.

He almost danced to the fridge, found the three least hairy things in it, put them on a plate and watched them intently for two minutes. Since they made no attempt to move within that time he called them breakfast and ate them.

It seems odd, don't you think, that the quality of the food should vary inversely with the brightness of the lighting. Makes you wonder what culinary heights the kitchen staff could rise to if you confined them to perpetual darkness.

He put some more cold pizza into his face.