Best 269 quotes in «hungry quotes» category

I can go to sleep hungry every night. But I cannot ever give up my struggle to achieve my dreams!

I do not do free e-books. I occasionally like to eat that thing you people call "food".

I don’t care if people say that I am staying hungry and foolish.

If a friend starts behaving silly because you bother him so much, don't worry, you're not the first person, he has got a sting in his stomach, an hunger that causes an epidemic hatred.

If we don’t stay hungry for attention and awareness, our life is doomed to remain bare and fallow. ("Love lying fallow ").

If you are aware of the kind of hunger, regrets and frustrations that follows rumpy pumpy, you would stir clear from hanky panky.

If you are my food, how am I supposed to feel pity towards you? That would mean starvation for me. “A hungry leopard told a fallen, panting, imploring gazelle

If you want to know the value of a day, ask someone who could not find food to eat or water to drink for a whole day when he is hungry.

I'm eating' it quick... but I'll remember it a long time.

I reject ‛poor’ as the artificial creation of humans. Hunger exists, though, and a hungry creature is entitled to eat.

“Do you have any money?” he asked. “What?” He rubbed his fingers together. “Dinero? Cash? Do you have any on you?” Unsure where this was headed, I shook my head. He reached over the counter and grabbed a knife. He cut the burger in half and slid the plate between us. “Here. Don’t bogart the fries.” “Are you serious?” Noah took another bite of his half. “Yeah. Don’t want my tutor to starve to death.” I smacked my lips like a cartoon character and bit into the succulent burger. When the juicy meat touched my tongue, I closed my eyes and moaned. “I thought girls only looked like that when they orgasmed.” The burger caught in my throat and I choked. Noah stifled a laugh while sliding my water toward me. If only drinking it would erase the annoying blush on my cheeks.

If a homeless person has a funny sign, he hasn't been homeless for that long. A real homeless person is too hungry to be funny.

If the food that one ate the night before were somehow able to be seen and identified through one’s clothes throughout the day, millions of employees would each fast ten or so days before their payday.

If you are not hungry for success, you will not make the best use of your time. It is simple and clear. People who are truly hungry for food never play with a meal when they see it.

I have come from my town, I have descended from my nome, I have done justice for its lord, I have satisfied him with what he loves. I spoke truly, I did right, I spoke fairly, I repeated fairly, I seized the right moment, So as to stand well with people. I judged between two so as to content them, I rescued the weak from one stronger than he I gave bread to the hungry, clothes (to the naked), I brought the boatless to land. I buried him who had no son, I made a boat for him who lacked one. I respected my father, I pleased my mother. I raised their children. So says he whose nickname is Sheshi. INSCRIPTION OF NEFER-SESHEM-RE CALLED SHESHI

I'm having a bad day," I told him. My little brother hated me, my human-alien personal security guard confessed he doesn't know compassion from compost, and now my old high school crush informs me he's embarking on a suicide mission to rescue two missing and probably dead people. PLUS I wanted a sandwich that I could never have. -Cassie

In its timeless capacity to embody the human condition, the vampire is a poignant metaphor describing the psychosocial experience of the pariah - the outsider. The vampire is the Other that used to be human. The diseased, the mentally challenged, the homeless and hungry, ......are all vampires in a way; the other who used to be human, the invisible who casts no reflection among us.

In today's world hunger for sanity seems to be more intense than our hunger for food.

Miss, I lack belly-timber sairly by the clock.

She seems hopeful and normally hungry for life — even rather romantic.

Most human beings strongly believe that money is way less important than the life of a human being, but in reality five hundred, fifty, or even five dollars are way more important to the lives of most human beings than the lives of most human beings.

One who is hungry for growth, doesn't requires motivation and training.. He just needs an opportunity...

The amazing criteria by which Christ will judge is whether we feed the hungry or not

Sometimes it's as if I can shrink away to nothing. Sometimes I feel as pure and perfect as a ghost. The hunger, the headaches, the dizziness—these are the only things that are real.

The amazing criteria by which Christ will judge nations is whether or not they fed the hungry, gave water to the thirsty

Some people ate less food less often when they each had a home than they now do as hobos.

Some people when they see cheese, chocolate or cake they don't think of calories.

Strike was becoming steadily more taciturn, his expression brooding. Robin wondered whether this was because he was hungry—he was a man who needed regular sustenance to maintain an equable mood—or for some darker reason.

The devil would be powerless if he couldn't entice people to do his work. So as long as money continues to seduce the hungry, the hopeless, the broken, the greedy, and the needy, there will always be war between brothers.

The food is ready,” Zil announced to loud cheers. “But we have something more important to do, first, before we can eat.” Groans. “We have to carry out some justice.” That earned a silent stare until Turk and Hank started raising their hands and yelling, showing the crowd how to act. “This mutant, this nonhuman scum here, this freak Hunter…” Zil pointed, arm stretched out, at his captive. “This chud deliberately murdered my best friend, Harry.” “Na troo,” Hunter said. His mouth still didn’t work right. Brain damage, Zil supposed, from the little knock on his head. Half of Hunter’s face drooped like it wasn’t quite attached right. It made it easier for the crowd of kids to sneer at him, and Hunter, yelling in his drooling retard voice, wasn’t helping his case. “He’s a killer!” Zil cried suddenly, smacking his fist into his palm. “A freak! A mutant!” he cried. “And we know what they’re like, right? They always have enough food. They run everything. They’re in charge and we’re all starving. Is that some kind of coincidence? No way.” “Na troo,” Hunter moaned again. “Take him!” Zil cried to Antoine and Hank. “Take him, the murdering mutant scum!” They seized Hunter by the arms. He could walk, but only by dragging one leg. They half carried, half marched him across the plaza. They dragged him up the church steps. “Now,” Zil said, “here is how we’re going to do this.” He waved his hand toward the rope that Lance was unspooling back through the plaza. An expectant pause. A dangerous, giddy feeling. The smell of the meat had them all crazy. Zil could feel it. “You all want some of this delicious venison?” They roared their assent. “Then you’ll all grab on to the rope.

The word of lust touches the body, the word of love touches the soul: feed the soul and starve the body.

The most dangerous people in the world are not the tiny minority instigating evil acts, but those who do the acts for them – for a paycheck. To act without a conscience, but for a paycheck, makes anyone a dangerous animal. The devil would be powerless if he couldn’t entice people to do his work. So as long as money continues to seduce the hungry, the hopeless, the broken, the greedy, and the needy, there will always be war between people.

The only way to smile at harvest time is to appreciate the invisible fruits in the visible seed. Hungry people are not those who have no seed. They are those who kill seeds!

There will be days when you feed on the energy of desire, you will not feel hungry. Eating letters is the way to go

The shadows along the streets were personal, and, every passing day, they seemed to grow longer and hungrier

The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentleman, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced broad-girthed Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered lanes; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.

They're looking for guys like us, he says, young and hungry, not done yet. I say I'm not hungry, Rick, all I am is angry. He says that'll do just fine.

Yes! If you really love your beautiful garden of dreams, you will never allow any hungry beast to have its way in. Keep dream killers away!

We All Have Demons I Just Choose To Starve Mine.

What am I doing here?” she demanded, bewildered. “You’re having dinner,” her little brother said. “Stop it! I’m not hungry. Stop it!” John held the spoon in front of her. His cherubic face was dark with anger. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.” “What are you talking about?” Mary demanded. “You said you wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t leave me alone,” John said. “But you tried, didn’t you?” “I don’t know what you’re babbling about.” She noticed Astrid then, leaning against a filing cabinet. Astrid looked like she’d been dragged through the middle of a dog fight. Little Pete was sitting cross-legged, rocking back and forth. He was chanting, “Good-bye, Nestor. Good-bye, Nestor.” “Mary, you have an eating disorder,” Astrid said. “The secret is out. So cut the crap.” “Eat,” John ordered, and shoved a spoonful of food in her mouth. None too gently. “Swallow,” John ordered. “Let me—” “Shut up, Mary.

What’s the problem, babe?” Judd asked, climbing off the bike and caressing my cheek. “I feel underdressed. I look trashy.” Glancing over my jeans, gray sweater, beige jacket, and tennis shoes, Judd frowned. “We’re visiting the Johanssons, not the Rockefellers.”   Crossing my arms, I felt dirty like I needed a shower. I felt hideous and unworthy of every good thing in my life. Judd leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “You know who’s inside? Your big sis surrounded by loud stinky bikers. They’re burping and stinking up the place and she’s all alone, waiting for someone to save her.” Grinning slightly, I still felt grumpy. Yet, Judd tugged me closer until I smiled up at him. “After we do this family crap where Cooper acts like I should give a shit what he thinks, we’ll go back to my place and try out the hot tub. We might have to share it with one of my elderly neighbors. If it’s Morty, he won’t mind a little show.” Laughing, I sighed. “I don’t know why I get so pissy sometimes.” Judd looked ready to answer then changed his mind. “Everyone gets pissy sometimes, babe. I almost did once too.” “Almost?” “This close,” he said, showing me his fingers. “It was so fucking close, but turned out, I was just hungry. Maybe that’s your problem?” “Maybe.” “Let’s get you fed then.

They were feeling generously dramatic due to lack of food.

When a desperate, hungry spirit appears and makes the guinea pigs squeal it is because he knows where to put the live wire of sex, because he knows that beneath the hard carapace of indifference there is concealed the ugly gash, the wound that never heals.

A goal isn’t something you just arrive at and stop. You have to stay curious and hungry and foolish...

Young people today are deeply passionate and crave authentic life based on truth. They're hungry to make a difference. They're willing to take a stand for whatever they believe, even to die for a cause. When they sell out to Jesus, they'll pursue a standard of righteousness that is greater than anything you and I ever saw growing up. Don't water it down. Don't lower the standard. And don't just settle for raising it-raise it higher. Believe in your children. Talk with them. Speak well of them. Encourage them. Pray for them. Celebrate the victories with them. Affirm their growth. We can raise a generation that, although they'll make mistakes, will sell out completely when Jesus grips them. They'll give Him everything. They'll make you proud by being even weirder than you are.

Acceptable food rots while we are chased from bins behind restaurants, chased from sleeping on the street, chased from relieving ourselves unless we pay for food or gas, until finally we are so hungry, sleepless, smelly, constipated and beaten-down that we simply die of lack of will to live.

your paddy ridden field in baishak is my soul’s stamp – not the heart’s in the winter fog i exhale smoke - not a cigarette's in bed bereft of a woman i masturbate early in the morning in whose tummy will my child arrive one for which i will provide two morsels of rice? without a party flag i have been surviving without the love of a woman i have been surviving in order to listen to rabindranath’s songs at twelve thirty in the afternoon sun i have been surviving no i never wanted to be rabindranath never ever i have never wanted to love sumita never ever had never wanted her body have never wanted mita’s body had only wanted her love but nothing happened to me but of course the khan army in bangladesh the US mines from the coast of tonkin and the CRPF hiding behind the sand bags in kolkata have left the china nixon treaty has been signed white black America has sent

Your realm is an insane place. In Volaria, no-one goes hungry, slaves are no use when they starve. Those freeborn too lazy or lacking in intelligence to turn sufficient profit to feed themselves are made slaves so they can generate wealth for those deserving of freedom, and be fed in return. Here, your people are chained by their freedom, free to starve and beg from the rich. It's disgusting.

A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.

A hungry stomach cannot hear.