Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin Quotes

The very substance which last week was grazing in the field, waving in the milk pail, or growing in the garden, is now become part of the man.

There's a very passionate pro-chewing movement on the Internet called Chewdiasm. They say that we should be chewing 50 to 100 times per mouthful, which is insane. I tried that. It takes like a day and a half to eat a sandwich. But their basic idea is right. If you chew, you'll eat slower and you will get more nutrients.

I didn't just eat hot dogs. I studied how the food went into your system and how it would be digested.

Digestion is one of the most delicately balanced of all human and perhaps angelic functions.

EAT, v.i. To perform successively (and successfully) the functions of mastication, humectation, and deglutition.

Then know, that I have little wealth to lose. A man I am, crossed with adversity; My riches are these poor habiliments, Of which if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I have.

A greater Quantity of some things may be eaten than of others, some being of lighter Digestion than others.

I do not see why the loss of faith in the known image and symbol in our time should be celebrated as a freedom. It is a loss from which we suffer, and this pathos motivates modern painting and poetry at its heart.

Those with the least always lose the most in war.

The loss of my parents was definitely the hardest thing I've had to endure. I just felt really dead inside for a long time.

You think it's so great to die and make everyone cry and carry on. Well it ain't.

The world is always ending, for someone.

There is nothing more dignified than a corpse.

Others would say to me, 'It is only temporary, it will pass, you will get over it,' but of course they had no idea how I felt, although they were certain that they did. Over and over and over I would say to myself, If I can't feel, if I can't move, if I can't think, and I can't care, then what conceivable point is there in living?

Suttree surfaced from these fevered deeps to hear a maudlin voice chant latin by his bedside, what medieval ghost come to usurp his fallen corporeality. An oiled thumball redolent of lime and sage pondered his shuttered lids.Miserere mei, Deus ...His ears anointed, his lips ... omnis maligna discordia ... Bechrismed with scented oils he lay boneless in a cold euphoria. Japheth when you left your father's house the birds had flown. You were not prepared for such weathers. You'd spoke too lightly of the winter in your father's heart. We saw you in the streets. Sad.

War is awful. Nothing, not the valor with which it is fought nor the nobility of the cause it serves, can glorify war. War is wretched beyond description and only a fool or a fraud could sentimentalize its cruel reality. Whatever is won in war, it is loss the veteran remembers.

The on­ly thing I know is ev­ery­thing you love will die.

We're all going to face extreme stress in our lives, there's no one who is going to escape that. That's the one thing, rich or poor, I don't care who you are, you're going to lose.

The survivors (of a nuclear war) would envy the dead.

Joy and sorrow, beauty and deformity, equally pass away.

What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world.

Hope is such a beautiful word, but it often seems very fragile. Life is still being needlessly hurt and destroyed.

I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death, and something else I'd rather not recall just now.

Is it then so sad a thing to die?