Quotes About Sausages

What? Sunday morning in an English family and no sausages? God bless my soul, what's the world coming to, eh?

I went into a butchers and I said, 'I'll have a pound of sausages. 'He said, 'I'm very sorry, sir, we only serve kilos in here. 'I said, 'Okay then I'll have a pound of kilos.'

My first outdoor cooking memories are full of erratic British summers, Dad swearing at a barbecue that he couldn't put together, and eventually eating charred sausages, feeling brilliant.

That man tried to steal my purse!" "You should have just let him have it. You could have gotten hurt." "He's the one who got hurt. I have three cans of Vienna sausages in here." Rose started to ask her friend why she had Vienna sausages in her purse, then shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go get you some lunch.

Neely Kate lowered her arm, her chest heaving from her exertion. "That man tried to steal my purse!" "You should have just let him have it. You could have gotten hurt." "He's the one who got hurt. I have three cans of Vienna sausages in here.

I don't want to eat," she said in a thin voice. "I can't eat." She ate seven sausages, which was nothing against her grief. Fritz's saucisse minuit would make Gandhi a gourmet.

Of course. I've been known to fancy a few bangers myself.

Writing went from being a calling to being a job. Business ruined things. It became like making sausages in a sausage factory.

The mythology of Einstein shows him as a genius so lacking in magic that one speaks about his thought as of a functional labour analogous to the mechanical making of sausages, the grinding of corn or the crushing of ore: he used to produce thought, continuously, as a mill makes flour, and death was above all, for him, the cessation of a localized function: 'the most powerful brain of all has stopped thinking'.

Profits, like sausages... are esteemed most by those who know least about what goes into them.

War without fire is as worthless as sausages without mustard" Henry V

Whoever would have guessed that in the land of cheap sausages and mashed potatoes there could be such a change which would actually bring the French from Paris every weekend to invade Britain en masse to eat great food and drink great wine.

It's the only thing sexier than a sexy woman. A sexy woman cooking fuckin' sausages.

War without fire', said Henry V, 'is like sausages without mustard.

At school, I was brought up on revolting food - sausages, sausages and Spam - but at home, I had the most wonderful sponge puddings, which I don't indulge in very often now.

Tuscan sausages are smaller than their American cousins, each one demarcated with a string, a graceful loop drawn tightly into a knot - looping and tightening, looping and tightening, a symmetrically floppy, aesthetically appealing rhythm.

I love passion perhaps more than anything. I think life is nothing without it and we all strive to feel it every day for those we love and for what we do, and even if it's just for sausages it is a fine thing.

and his youngest sister, Henrietta, lived to a great age, also beside the sea, with a vast collection of cats—having previously traveled around England carrying a portable stove that allowed her to cook her beloved sausages in the privacy of her various bedrooms. She also once mistakenly took an alarm clock to church with her, instead of a Bible, with predictably catastrophic results.

He didn't reply. He would have given a lot to share that improvised meal, those potatoes cooked under ash, those sausages browned by time, that wine that appeared so refreshing!

My idea of a perfect breakfast would be French toast with sausages and tea.

I recently went to New York for the first time, and honey, I'm in love with that place. I'm obsessed with its sausages.

And do you want your sausages or don't you want your sausages, cos I'm aware of that sausage hissy-fit from earlier?

No, but that Oxford and his smart friends, they've changed him. Ideas, that's what it is. I said, What use is ideas when you've a capon to baste and the tally-man's due any minute? Name an idea, I said, that can get the front steps scrubbed, the sausages pricked and the navel oranges squeezed in time for a meat tea and finger buffet. Well, he didn't know which way to look.

I walked back across the road straight past him, fumbling in my bag for my keys. Why did fingers always turn into cocktail sausages at moments of stress?