Rupert Penry-Jones Quotes

I am a gourmand. I like to eat. When I have something that I like, I tend to have too much of it. That is a guilty pleasure.

Gluttony is not a secret vice.

Eating constitutes the greatest obstacle to self-control; it gives rise to indolence.

I think it's important to encourage gluttony in all its formats.

I'm a bit of a glutton - I eat too much of all that is good to eat.

Roast potatoes - I can't say no. At Christmas, I reach over for the fifth or sixth one, and I think I could keep going until I explode.

Gluttony and surfeiting are no proper occasions for thanksgiving.

I've never eaten just a few bites of things I liked in my life.

I have legendary massive breakfasts at hotels. I don't hold back. I'll get there at 7A.M. and I'll be the last out at 11 A.M., having gone up and down the buffet seven times.

My old modus operandi was, if you're going to have a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, don't have one, have two. If you're going to have vanilla wafers, you have the whole box.

Most of those who make collections of verse or epigram are like men eating cherries or oysters: they choose out the best at first, and end by eating all.

I was not created to be occupied by eating delicious foods like tied up cattle.

The greedy man is he who habitually eats too much, knowing that he is injuring his bodily health thereby, and this is a vice to which not the gourmet but the gourmand is a slave.

I've always been intemperate in my affection for food.

I eat everything. I love it! I couldn't deny myself food. What a waste of a life.

Don't eat till you're full, eat till you're tired.

It is a curious fact that no man likes to call himself a glutton, and yet each of us has in him a trace of gluttony, potential or actual. I cannot believe that there exists a single coherent human being who will not confess, at least to himself, that once or twice he has stuffed himself to bursting point on anything from quail financiere to flapjacks, for no other reason than the beastlike satisfaction of his belly.

Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday's excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.

Oh, pity the poor glutton Whose troubles all begin In struggling on and on to turn What's out into what's in.

I love to eat. That's why I got so fat; I love to eat. If I don't walk away from a meal hurting, I didn't do it right. If I don't walk away from Thanksgiving dinner feeling like I've been turkey-f**ked in a gingerbread prison, I didn't do it right.

I'm famous for splurging at fast-food places. I'm currently obsessed with Taco Bell's bean and cheese burritos with extra green sauce and extra cheese. Gluttony!

We have all heard of the animal standing in doubt between two stacks of hay and starving to death, the like of which would never happen to Gen. Cass. Place stacks a thousand miles apart: he would stand stock still, midway between them, and eat them both at once; and the green grass along the line would be apt to suffer some, too, at the same time.

The worst vice of the solitary is the worship of his food.

In everything, satiety closely follows the greatest pleasures.

A bellyful is a bellyful.