Science tells me God must exist. My mind tells me I will never understand God. And my heart tells me I am not meant to.
My grandpa always tells me that 45-minute lunches are key because an army marches on its stomach.
Everyone tells me I've had such an interesting life, but sometimes I think it's been nothing but stomach disturbances and self-concern.
I will not listen to your verse on an empty stomach!" declared the Vicomte. "You have no soul," said Philippe sadly. "But I have a stomach, and it cries aloud for sustenance." "I weep for you," said Philip. "Why do I waste my poetic gems upon you?
Judaism tells us in many ways how to listen and say 'Hinneni', I am here.
At the bottom of philosophy something very true and very desperate whispers: Everyone is hungry all the time. Everyone is starving. Everyone wants so much, much more than they can stomach, but the appetite doesn't converse much with the stomach. Everyone is hungry and not only for food - for comfort and love and excitement and the opposite of being alone. Almost everything awful anyone does is to get those things and keep them.
If you have some idea you believe in, don't listen to the croaking chorus. Listen only to what your own inner voice tells you.
Every health expert tells you to eat breakfast. I had the mentality, 'I'll save those calories!' But then you are starving, and you overeat.
There's not a day that goes by that I don't get an email from someone who is angry with me and tells me they're not going to let their kid listen to Imagine Dragons anymore.
Music means communication to me. I say 'listen you people out there, listen to my music, let's be one.' Music is a friend to me when I am lonely, when I am blue. You can't define music 'cause music is cosmos and it knows no barrier or definition. You have to feel music to dig it.
I can't usually stomach a project after I finish it, but for those days and weeks and months that it's new to me, I do listen to it, and it might change over time, but it's about function.
And after awhile of this my brain and my body and every single inch of me that was alive was flooded with the feeling that I was starving, starving for Edmond. And what a coincidence, that was the feeling I loved best in the world.
A book comes and says, 'Write me.' My job is to try to serve it to the best of my ability, which is never good enough, but all I can do is listen to it, do what it tells me and collaborate.
I read stories aloud at every stage. I listen to my writer friends when they kindly offer criticism. I listen to my husband when he tells me something doesn't seem right. I have my mother's boyfriend, Loring Janes, read to make sure I get everything right with the machines and guns.
I never stop to think about my age really. I just listen to my body and it tells me if I can or can't.
Yes, I am my brother's keeper. I am under a moral obligation to him that is inspired, not by any maudlin sentimentality but by the higher duty I owe myself. What would you think me if I were capable of seating myself at a table and gorging myself with food and saw about me the children of my fellow beings starving to death?