taste

He is insatiable in love. His wife is a great cook.

Procrastination and excuses are sour spices that spoil the sweet taste of an effective work. They must hence, not be prompted under desire, partly because they are strictly time-stripping and also because they have no known essence.

Though some may see their shortcomings as the greatest evil from the pit of hell, while some throw invectives at God for bringing them into a cruel, problematic world. These shortcomings are transient, the greatest evil does its work and needs no interrogation, their invectives are just a waste of time, and the world is the most sweetest to those with a functional taste buds.

I remember an hypothesis argued upon by the young students, when I was at St. Omer's, and maintained with much learning and pleasantry on both sides, 'Whether supposing that the flavour of a big who obtained his death by whipping (per flagellationem extremem) superadded a pleasure upon the palate of a man more intense than any possible suffering we can conceive in the animal, is man justified in using that method of putting an animal to death?' I forget the decision.

The problem is not in the sugar when it tastes bitter, the problem is with the tongue.

One not only wants to be understood when one writes, but also quite as certainly not to be understood. It is by no means an objection to a book when someone finds it unintelligible: perhaps this might just have been the intention of its author, perhaps he did not want to be understood by "anyone_. A distinguished intellect and taste, when it wants to communicate its thoughts, always selects its hearers; by selecting them, it at the same time closes its barriers against "the others". It is there that all the more refined laws of style have their origin: they at the same time keep off, they create distance, they prevent "access" (intelligibility, as we have said,) while they open the ears of those who are acoustically related to them.

Experience is not necessarily accumulated over the extent of time lived. In my opinion, it is accumulated over the degree and variety of activities a person has been involved in

Sin bites bitter. But oh, the sweet taste of salvation, that stirs the spirit!

Our most potent memories include the taste and smells of foods we enjoyed as a child in part because it reminds us of who fed us a meal.

But, when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, on the ruin of all the rest, bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.

When God's favour and Godly flavour is in you, your haters will taste wisdom and the only thing they can do is to regret ever tasting a sweet thing.

Think global; Think big! Think of planting a seed for unborn generations to taste; Think of making a shade that will provide comfort to others. If what you enjoy now appeals to you, thank God for the life of those who made it happen. However, the good news is that "you too can make it happen"!

How you brew your life is how it__ gonna taste on your tongue. You have the choice to make it bitter or sweeter. It all depend on the actions that you take day in day out.

Smile once a while; even if life tastes like bitter bile, just file out your teeth and cheeks and take a mile of sweet smiles... Smile, make it your life's style. Decorate your face with piles of smiles!

If you will look about you (which most people won't do)," says Sergeant Cuff, "you will see that the nature of a man's tastes is, most times, as opposite as possible to the nature of a man's business.

We talk a lot about the five senses: vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. I would add one more_imagination.

There__ always been sadness hidden at the core of Hitch, but it__ never been big enough to taste. Occasionally, I__ get a whiff of it, salty on the wind, but it never pressed in between us like it does now, threatening to drown us both.

Give me one more night to taste the darkWhen wolves imitate a lone dog's bark Let those secrets remain unspoken Fallen angel's heart now lover's token Light grows dim burying riddle__ death Just breathe to free your one last breath