Best 568 quotes in «hunger quotes» category

The hunger to know is the hope of search.

The hunger for land: that great hunger which for more than half a century was to shake Russia and to throw her into a fever, body and mind.

The man who did the shouting at the P.S.U.C. post down on our right was an artist at the job. Sometimes, instead of shouting revolutionary slogans he simply told the Facists how much better we were being fed than they were. His account of the Government rations was apt to be a little imaginative. 'Buttered toast!' - you could hear his voice echoing across the lonely valley - 'We're just sitting down to buttered toast over here! Lovely slices of buttered toast!' I do not doubt that, like the rest of us, he had not seen butter for weeks or months past, but in the icy night the news of buttered toast probably set many a fascist mouth wattering. It even made mine water, though I knew he was lying.

The meat smelt rank and was very tough, the soup was greasy and of a curious flavour, but it was a wonderful meal after all these hungry weeks.

Stop the poverty! Where do they think they are going?!

There are no secrets, there is no mystery. We make that all up. In fact, it's all right there in front of us. You have to have enough food to get through winter and spring. That's what it all comes down to. You have to live in a way that will gather enough food each fall to get through winter.

There are two types of people in this world- those who pull out of bed each morning at the thought of breakfast and those who are driven by ambition. The former succeed in satisfying hunger pangs and the latter accomplish their life goals.

The Red Cross, our last hope, had left us to starve.

There he died; and as thou seest me, saw I the three fall one by one, between the fifth day and the sixth: whence I betook me, already blind, to groping over each, and for three days called them, after they were dead; then fasting had more power than grief.

There is only one definition of happiness for hungry people: Eat!

There's always the dwarf bread.

The world is wide, wide, wide, and I am young, young, young, and we’re all going to live forever!' We were very hungry but we didn’t want to leave, so we ate there. We had chicken sandwiches; boy, the chicken of the century. Dry, wry, and tender, the dryness sort of rubbing against your tongue on soft, bouncy white bread with slivers of juicy wet pickles. Then we had some very salty potato chips and some olives stuffed with pimentos and some Indian nuts and some tiny pearl onions and some more popcorn. Then we washed the whole thing down with iced martinis and finished up with large cups of strong black coffee and cigarettes. One of my really great meals.

The world was different. The world feared touch.

They all had darkened eyes, eyes that seemed to have a hunger behind them. Borne out of the private convulsions only secret passions can provoke.

They did not kill Hunger, for people were made to always want new things to taste. They did not destroy Poverty, for poverty reminds us to be humble. They did not destroy Sleep, for people sometimes need to forget their troubles and restore their energy. And they did not defeat Old Age, for there must always be room for the new people being born.

They'd taken everything. Everything, and people simply had let them. People had meekly surrendered the world to them in hopes those CEOs would finally have enough, finally have reason to leave them be. But Tom knew better.

They only seemed to respond to one instinct. Hunger.

They say "the taste of the pudding is in the eating," but that doesn't apply to "a square peg in a round hole". If the peg is driven by hunger to give and desire to fill, and the hole on the other hand is moved by thirst to receive and purpose to fulfil, then a deep knowledge of the reason for existence, a mutual understanding of roles, and the wisdom to effectively carry out those roles are very key, if we must have a round peg in a round hole, or a square peg in a square hole. But then again, who cares about "shape" in desperation?!

They were brutes, no doubt, but brutes who could not read, and who were dying of hunger.

They were feeling generously dramatic due to lack of food.

Things taste sweeter when you have some hunger left to linger. You feel it hunting your head for buried things; digging into the fractures of your breath warm and greedy.

Those who replace love in people’s life with bread, are deceitful, and call their deceit “pious”.

Tipsy, they tumbled early into bed - to get as much sleep as they could. So they would feel less hunger. The summer catch had been poor; there wasn't much food. They ate with care and looked sideways at the old: the old were gluttons, everybody knew it, and what was the good of feeding them? It wouldn't harm them to starve a little. The hungry dogs howled. The women rinsed the children's bellies with hot water three times a day, so they wouldn't cry so much for food. The old starved silently. ("The North")

To succeed is always to fail-in the sense that the more one succeeds in anything, the greater is the need to go on succeeding. To eat is to survive to be hungry.

Towards the end of the season it is not bad to have the body. To have experienced joy as the mere lifting of hunger is not to have known it less.

Transparent tubes divided Phil’s blood into shades of red, fading to straw colored plasma. I watched his fluid swirl past his shoulders and disappear into machines. He offered himself to blood banks all over the city, his plasma rushed to hospitals where it would circulate through other people’s bodies. The map of my love’s tapped arteries would look like a bloodshot eye over the city of Albuquerque. His blood bought us dinner. I dreamed he was my mother, and I nursed his arm. I wrote a poem about it, how I suckled his arm dry like a sore teat.

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

The "more" of Christianity is a myth; a deceitful illusion designed to keep you busy and running in circles, always seeking but never finding, always learning but never coming to the knowledge of the Truth—a carrot on a stick, if you will.

The most hideous scene of life and the world is, the lamentation of a hungry child.

The most difficult time to be hungry is when the pangs first start. When the body realizes it's missed a meal and signals that it wants food. But after a while, it gives up asking; it gives up expecting anything. The will return, of course, and the hunger never goes away.

Then I stared at Arnold's bánh mì. The oil had yellowed the bread. Cartoonishly red hot sauce crisscrossed juicy chunks of chicken. It was topped with shredded coriander, chopped chilies, and translucent slivers of onion. I lifted my spoon, and then I heard myself speak. "Can I have that?" I put down my spoon and pointed at Arnold's sandwich. "What?" Arnold replied. "Your sandwich? Can we switch, please? I don't want this soup. I don't know why I asked for it." I lifted up my bowl and handed it over. Arnold received it because he had no choice and watched as I lifted up his bánh mì and deposited it in front of myself. I wrapped both hands around it and took a large bite before he could protest. I felt the tiny slices of chili deliciously tingle my lips. I made a full-bodied sound to demonstrate my pleasure.

The pain of hunger beneath everything. At the end of all love-making, the dreamless sleep after the orgasm, which is like death.

The people are hungry,” Mihali said. He lifted his hands, spreading them to encompass the city. “The people need to be fed. They need bread and wine and soup and meat. But not just that. They need friendship.” He pointed to a minor noble, some viscount decked out in his finest foppish frills, who poured a bottle of St. Adom’s Festival wine into the cups of a half-dozen street urchins. “They need companionship,” Mihali said. “They need love and brotherhood.” He turned to Tamas. He reached out with one hand, putting a palm to Tamas’s cheek. Instinct told Tamas to step back. He found that he couldn’t. “You gorged them on the blood of the nobility,” Mihali said gently. “They drank, but were not filled. They ate of hatred and grew hungrier.” He took a deep breath. “Your intentions were… well, not pure, but just. Justice is never enough.” He let go of Tamas and turned to the square. “I will put things right,” he said. He puffed out his chest and spread his arms. “I will feed all of Adro. It is what they need.

There’s nothing wrong in dreaming when you are awake Reality is brimming with hunger, love and ache The sky is unsure why the arid moor feels bleak Quaking of earth to lure the narrowness of creek From the poem- Sprinkled

The restraints were nothing, like paper. The rivets popped from the table and shot across the room. First his arms and then his legs. The room was dark but hid nothing from his eyes, because the darkness was part of him now. And inside him, far down, a great devouring hunger uncoiled itself. To eat the very world. To take it all inside him and be filled by it, made whole. To make the world eternal, as he was.

The saddest thing of all was that their party represented a deviation from the conditions of the time. It was impossible to imagine that in the houses across the lane people were eating and drinking in the same way at such an hour. Beyond the window lay mute, dark, hungry Moscow. Her food stores were empty, and people had even forgotten to think of such things as game and vodka. And thus it turned out that the only true life is one that resembles the life around us and drowns in it without leaving a trace, that isolated happiness is not happiness, so that duck and alcohol, when they seem to be the only ones in town, are not alcohol and a duck at all.

The sole purpose of knowledge is to create hunger for experience.

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

True hunger was a weapon stronger than any of his abstract desires. It’s what toppled countries and made men desperate.

True passion motivates the life forces and brings forth all things good. ... desire is the poor cousin to passion, ever hungry and with no real result.

Una tierra que no me garantiza el pan no puede ser mi tierra.

Vision gives meaning to grace just as hunger gives meaning to food.

Want is always hungry and searching whereas contentment is steady, calm and receiving.

We live in a world where we think too much of ourselves but we feel too little for others.

Verden var et jævelig sted, det hendte så mye som jeg verken kunne begripe eller forstå.

Warum leben wir in solcher Hast, mit solcher Vergeudung von Leben? Wir glauben, Hungers zu sterben, bevor wir hungrig sind. Es heißt, "ein Stich zur rechten Zeit erspart neun andere" - also werden lieber gleich tausend Stiche gemacht, um neun für den nächsten Tag zu ersparen.

We are well,' Efuru replied. 'It is only hunger.' 'It is good that it is only hunger. Good health is what we pray for.

We ate our fill, but there was more left when we was done. 'It’ll be in the icebox if y’all want some more later on,' she told us. There weren’t no way I would have gone back and eat more. I knowed they was being extra nice to us right then, but if we didn’t act right, they would put us out. That’s how folks do.

We clean our plates, yet we’re still famished—starving for something other than food.

Well, first you will have to eat again, not just like you Earth people do, but the corvalen, one dose is not enough. And once you start down that path, you want more, you need more, and then there is the end of your peaceful life.