Best 568 quotes in «hunger quotes» category

All the hungers we have for love, for union, for happiness are given by God to lead us to him. The difference between a saint and the greatest sinner is where they go to satisfy that hunger.

A man will seek to express his relation to the stars; but when a man's consciousness has been riveted upon obtaining a loaf of bread, that loaf of bread is as important as the stars.

America wrestles with its obesity crisis to such an extent that Americans forget there are worse weight problems on earth than obesity.

An ancestor of mine, Jesse Wiggins, was hung for stealing sheep, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Was he a dashing, swashbuckling ‘outlaw’ or a desperate, brutal criminal? I’d like to think he was a rustler or possibly a highwayman, a ‘knight of the road.’ Dick Turpin or maybe Sixteen-String Jack Rann. But in all likelihood Jesse Wiggins was simply hungry and stole a battered old sheep to feed his family, and that’s what cost him his life.

An angry artist tells people what (he thinks) they need to hear. A hungry artist tells people what (he thinks) they want to hear.

Anastasia, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes.' He says softly. 'Wealth isn't something I've ever aspired to, Christian.' I frown. 'I know. I love that about you. But then you've never been hungry.' He says simply.

And even though they had eaten nothing, the girl still ended her day with a belly full of story—which sticks to the ribs even better than mutton.

And when we finally stood up and turned to face the world, I could feel something climbing through me. I could feel it on its hands and knees inside me, rising up, rising up - and I smiled. I smiled, thinking, The hunger, because I knew it all too well. The hunger. The desire. Then, slowly, as we walked on, I felt the beauty of it, and I could taste it, like words inside my mouth.

An indoor man eats nothing, except that which is prepared and served by his mother with lots of insults, an outdoor man eats that which he buys, prepares, served and eaten with lots of respect.

A man cannot understand hunger, until he has swum in the depths of hunger

And I will raise up for them a plant of renown, and they shall be no more consumed with hunger in the land, neither bear the shame of the heathen any more.

An empty belly makes a stern taskmaster.~Victor Radcliff

Anyone who will eat his seeds today will be hungry tomorrow because he has nothing to plant and nothing to harvest later.

a poor friendless child, apparently ten years old; but she seemed hunger bitten; and sufferings of that sort often make children look older than they are.

A poor man knows the true value of money and will not dare waste it, but a rich man is extravagant and always looking for an opportunity to empty his pockets.

As if I feared that the scope of what I could feel and imagine was being quietly limited by the world within a world, the internet. The things outside of the web were becoming further from me, and everything inside it seemed piercingly relevant. The blogs of strangers had to be read daily, and people nearby who had no web presence were becoming almost cartoonlike, as if they were missing a dimension. It was just happening, like time, like geography. The web seemed so inherently endless that it didn't occur to me what wasn't there. My appetite for pictures and videos and news and music was so gigantic now that if something was shrinking, something immesurable, how would I notice? ...Most of life is offline, and I think it always will be; eating and aching and sleeping and loving happen in the body. But it's not impossible to imagine loosing my appetite for those things; they aren't always easy, and they take so much time.

Answer the urgent call. Help when tragedy strikes. And do it for free.

A woman walks by the gate, leading a little boy with a balloon of hunger in his belly and hair bleached by malnutrition.

Be a hungry, passionate go-getter and together we will accomplish wonders.

A warrior knows hunger, not fear.

Be at peace all of you, for hunger has a whip, and he will drive the strange away in the night.

Beautiful, enticing, forbidden fruit will be offered to you when your "hunger" is greatest. If you are foolish enough to reach for it, your fingers will sink into the rotten mush on the back side. That's the way sin operates in our lives. It promises everything. It delivers nothing but disgust and heartache.

Before saying anything further about culture, I consider the world is hungry and does not care about culture, and people artificially want to turn these thoughts away from hunger and direct them towards culture.

Before you are much older...you will have policemen here to stay. A magistrate will be next. Then perhaps even a jail. And the counterparts of those things are hunger and want, and misery and idleness. The night is coming. Watch and pray.

Before you either turn away in disgust or wink knowingly at one another, you should know that the artist insists that this is a picture about love. Filial love. The old man has been condemned by the Roman senate to die of hunger, and his daughter has come to his prison cell and offered her breast to feed him. This has nothing to do with with the decorous love or amorous passions one is more accustomed to seeing in a painting. It is raw and wretched and demeaning. In the end, we are physical bodies and every abstract notion about love sinks beneath this fact.

Begging is much more difficult than it looks. Contrary to popular belief, it’s a high art form that takes years of dedicated practice to master.

Being constantly in touch with your own sensuality develops you into a more intuitive person who knows how to minister to the hidden needs of the one(s) you love.

A woman wearing a half hijab sat on a dirty rag. I could see her toes through her ripped shoes. A baby cried in her arms. She opened her palm to me, saying, “We have no home. Please help me and my baby. God will bless you.” I noticed her broken teeth. My heart sank; I turned my face to the other side. My God! If I turned to every misery around me, I would be crying rivers on the street.

Because there is hunger. Like any desire, it’s only temporarily satisfied, which calls into question the reliability of satisfaction and whether such a state can be said to exist at all. Anything we eat knows us more intimately than a lover. Not merely the inside of our mouth but the esophagus, stomach, alimentary canal, upper and lower colon, sphincter. Everything we desire, we shit out and leave behind.

Being known. This, of course, is the goal, the agenda so carefully hidden it may be unknown even to the self. The cutter cuts to make the pain at her center visible. The anorexic starves to make manifest her hunger and vulnerability. The extremes announce, This is who I am, this is what I feel, this is what happens when I don't get what I need. In quadraphonic sound, they give voice to the most central human hunger, which is the desire to be recognized, to be known and loved because of, and in spite of, who you are; they give voice to the sorrow that takes root when that hunger is unsatisfied.

... Being a Mom is hard, but trying to remain rational while hungry is even harder.

But cooking is best approached from wherever you find yourself when you are hungry, and should extend long past the end of the page. There should be serving, and also eating, and storing away what's left; there should be looking at meals' remainders with interest and imagining all the good things they will become.

But she noticed something interesting. His hands. They stretched tensely then curled into tight fists before extending again, the pattern repeating over and over as he walked away. After he climbed into the darkness of the vehicle and waited for the footman to close the door behind him, he looked up at her from the deep shadows. The angles of his face were hard and forbidding, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes... They focused in on her, consuming her despite the distance between them. Lily's lips parted to draw a swift breath. The flame inside her fanned to a full blaze. She could swear she saw a sort of hunger in his eyes.

By Rachel Corrie, aged 10 — 1990 I’m here for other children. I’m here because I care. I’m here because children everywhere are suffering and because forty thousand people die each day from hunger. I’m here because those people are mostly children. We have got to understand that the poor are all around us and we are ignoring them. We have got to understand that these deaths are preventable. We have got to understand that people in third world countries think and care and smile and cry just like us. We have got to understand that they dream our dreams and we dream theirs. We have got to understand that they are us. We are them. My dream is to stop hunger by the year 2000. My dream is to give the poor a chance. My dream is to save the 40,000 people who die each day. My dream can and will come true if we all look into the future and see the light that shines there. If we ignore hunger, that light will go out. If we all help and work together, it will grow and burn free with the potential of tomorrow.

Being hungry is the hardest thing, & to this day I have prayers of gratitude for the Black Panthers, who made Breakfast for Children a thing that schools should do. We qualified for free lunch & breakfast, & without them I am almost sure we wouldn't have made it out of childhood alive despite my hardworking parents.

But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain.

Can you still want something you already have? Absolutely. Everyday.

Certainly, if money could have been raised upon the book, Robert Herrick would long ago have sacrificed that last possession: but the demand for literature, which is so marked a feature in some parts of the South Seas, extends not so far as the dead tongues; and the Virgil, which he could not exchange against a meal had often consoled him in his hunger. He would study it, as he lay with tightened belt on the floor of the old calaboose, seeking favourite passages and finding new ones only less beautiful because they lacked the consecration of remembrance. The Ebb-Tide

Coca cola and McDonalds is spreading. Just like hunger and poverty.

Colm was a good sleeper. But if there was one sound at night that should wake him, and any sensible man who loved his family, it was the barking of dogs. The noise was coming from the village. It was not just one or two dogs, but surely every mangy cur and mongrel that lived there. Something was abroad, and in this time of the dying of the year, when fell creatures roamed the countryside as hunger began to bite, it was not likely to be anything good.

Casey glanced at her plate again, recalling the posters of her elementary school lunchroom: YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT. So, how much you ate indicated the quantity of your desire. Walter was also implying that how quickly you got your food revealed the likelihood of achieving your goals. She was in fact terribly hungry, but she'd pretended to be otherwise to be ladylike and had moved away from the table to be agreeable, and now she'd continue to be hungry" (Free Food For Millionaires, p.92.)

Curiosity is the hunger of the mind.

Complaining from lack of food doesn't always affect my emotions. complaining from lack of knowledge, passion, creative ideas and happiness always does.

Dare we care at all about current fashions if that means reducing our ability to help hungry neighbors? How many more luxuries should we buy for ourselves and our children when others are dying for lack of bread?

Det begyndte å komme rotne flækker i mit indre, sorte svamper som bredte sig mere og mere.

Devon had been so lonely, so terribly lonely, for so long. The kind of lonely that sears, that burrows its way deep inside a heart and throbs. Like a gnawing hunger.

Cost Nothing *** Oh, human My hunger is now Passed away Please pray It cost nothing.

Death is buried there into death Hunger strikes on its own last breath No spine to shiver, no heart talks At life’s craving poverty mocks From the poem 'Exhumation

Deep down a broken heart, all the sadness one can bear is misery.

Desperation makes for poor stealth.