Quotes About Indulgence

Make no mistake, most women are well aware that they've never had it so good; when they enter a spa or salon, it is purely a hair/nails thing, a prelude to an evening of guilt-free fun.

A good restaurant just makes me giddy. I can go all day with anticipation just knowing where I'm going to eat. Sometimes it's well planned, sometimes it's spontaneous. Either way works.

When I was a kid, I would come home from school, and my mom would buy the industrial-size Famous Amos cookies or Chips Ahoy when I was lucky. And I would sit in front of the TV set with a glass of milk... and I would dump cookies in there, smash them with my spoon, and eat cookies and milk with a spoon watching 'The Dukes of Hazzard.'

I love to eat. I could make a professional sport out of it.

My wife is English and grew up eating Dairy Milk and Flakes and Twirls, so while she loves dark chocolate, she also has a soft spot for the milkier stuff.

I stopped eating dairy; it's hard, being from New York I have a soft spot in my heart for pizza.

I always have scarves handy; they're my indulgence. I buy them at an L.A. shop called Lost & Found. I'll spray one with loads of my Byredo Gypsy Water perfume, put it on and be like, 'Ah, this feels good.'

I learned to bet the Red Sox, the Celtics, Suffolk Downs. I thought it was a glorious life - pull up to the doughnut shop, spread out, and plan your day.

Maple butter spread on a tortilla is absolutely delightful.

I think chocolate in moderation is not bad for you, but I eat way too much. I tell myself I'm going to eat two squares, and then I end up eating half a big bar.

I think I'd like my own plane, stacked with all my favourite films.

I like the hot dogs at Dodger Stadium.

What's problematic about playing stadiums and driving around in private jets and drinking champagne at 8 o'clock in the morning? What's wrong with that? I haven't got a problem with that. I can't fathom why people would.

Well, I think mac-and-cheese is that universal piece. Especially in The South, people stake their reputations on mac-and-cheese.

There's a certain kind of dark-crusted sourdough bread I'm incapable of resisting. A sixth sense alerts me anytime I veer within a three-block radius of a bakery offering tangy country loaves with mahogany crusts. Without fail, I'll make my way inside and buy one, even if there's already half a loaf growing stale on my countertop.

I remember relishing the aloo pakodas at a stall near Dover Lane back in my younger days.

I always prefer to save up and have a four- or five-star holiday rather than take lots of little breaks where the standards aren't so high.

I can't even count the number of times I've obliterated my diet with a binge session. One second, I'm floating along just fine, four days into a successful low-carb lifestyle. The next? I'm standing alone in a dark kitchen, eating a sleeve of Ritz crackers and cream cheese with a spoon.

Let no man thirst for good beer.

Only fine cigars are worth smoking and only men who smoke fine cigars are worth kissing.

There's not a man, woman or child on the face of the earth who doesn't enjoy a tasty beverage.

Sensual excess drives out pity in man.

Believe me, no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is.

A man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner.