A Quote by Bertolt Brecht

What happens to the hole when the cheese is gone? — © Bertolt Brecht
What happens to the hole when the cheese is gone?
One way to think of the tax system is as a massive Swiss cheese. Each hole is an exemption created by a chancellor in pursuit of good headlines - a hole waiting to be filled by the clever accountants who work for Starbucks or Jimmy Carr.
Supermarkets and specialist suppliers will have you believe there are great substitutes for cheese. There are not. No vegan cheese tastes anything like decent cheese, and melting cheese might as well be alchemy as far as the vegan cheese industry is concerned.
I like cottage cheese. That's why I want to try other dwelling cheeses, too. How about studio apartment cheese? Tent cheese? Mobile home cheese? Do not eat mobile home cheese in a tornado.
Swiss cheese is the only cheese you can draw and people can identify. You can draw American cheese, but someone will think it's cheddar. It's the only cheese you can bite and miss. "Hey Mitch - does that sandwich have cheese on it?" "Every now and then!"
I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.
Cheese and jam are really nice. Cheese and apple as well. Cheese and grapes are good.
I will eat everything. Cheese. Mac and cheese. Anything and cheese. I love that stuff.
I love cheese. It intensified when I moved to France. It felt like my cheese shop lady was my dealer because every week I'd say, 'I need this cheese, I need that cheese', and she'd cut me enough for the week but I'd finish a whole piece in one go.
Then one day, this kid named Darren Walsh touched the Cheese with his finger, and that's what started this thing called the Cheese Touch. It's basically like the Cooties. If you get the Cheese Touch, you're stuck with it until you pass it on to someone else. The only way to protect yourself from the Cheese Touch is to cross your fingers.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
My studies in Speculative philosophy, metaphysics, and science are all summed up in the image of a mouse called man running in and out of every hole in the Cosmos hunting for the Absolute Cheese.
TV happens. And once it's happened, it's gone. When it's gone, you move on, no tears, no tantrums, no videotape
TV happens. And once it's happened, it's gone. When it's gone, you move on, no tears, no tantrums, no videotape.
My dear Excellency! I have not gone to war to collect cheese and eggs, but for another purpose.
I was on a bus once, it was in the middle of the night, and I had a box of crackers and a can of Easy Cheese. It was dark, and it was a surprise how much cheese I had applied on each cracker. That's why they should have a glow-in-the-dark version of Easy Cheese. It's not like the product has any integrity to begin with. If you buy a room-temperature cheese that you squeeze out of a can, you probably won't get mad because it glows in the dark too.
Cheese is good. And Britain, despite the grumblings of the French and the outrage of the Swiss, not to mention some plucky challenges from Italy, Austria, and Spain, has some of the best cheese in the world. We're world leaders in cheese.
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