A Quote by Daniel Handler

Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like. — © Daniel Handler
Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.
Corrupted by wealth and power, your government is like a restaurant with only one dish. They've got a set of Republican waiters on one side and a set of Democratic waiters on the other side. But no matter which set of waiters brings you the dish, the legislative grub is all prepared in the same Wall Street kitchen.
If I ever own a restaurant, I will never allow the waiters to ask if the diners like their dishes. Particularly when they're talking.
Italy is good in the sense that when you bring a child to a restaurant in Italy, they're happy to see it. The waiters will say "complimenti" and welcome you and dote after the kid. They don't treat you like you just brought in this horrible probably soon-to-be-squealing creature who's going to be difficult.
Time is like a wheel. Turning and turning - never stopping. And the woods are the center; the hub of the wheel. It began the first week of summer, a strange and breathless time when accident, or fate, bring lives together. When people are led to do things, they've never done before. On this summersday, not so very long ago, the wheel set lives in motion in mysterious ways.
It must be an odd feeling to be thankful to nobody in particular. Christians in public institutions often see this odd thing happening on Thanksgiving Day. Everyone in the institution seems to be thankful 'in general.' It's very strange. It's a little like being married in general.
I don't think you should be allowed to eat in a restaurant if you haven't waited tables at least once. It's so irritating when I see people being rude to waiters, like, it makes me want to slit their throats! Like, really? You're really this inconsiderate?
I like to discover little treasures in the cities we are in like a really amazing restaurant. I will go on my own and enjoy figuring out the ingredients as if I were making it at home, then I share my finds on my socials. I find that these little adventures bring me peace, because it is something I do when I am home.
A restaurant is a compendium of choices that the owner has made. If you look around a restaurant, everything represents a choice: the kind of salt shaker that's on the table, the art on the walls, the uniforms on the waiters.
We like to make sure there is a plot at the center of it and that you care about the people but to poke fun of little things, like the toast restaurant in the pilot.
I always like to shop and for me it was just about seeing things I like and making it part of my wardrobe and collecting things that I could always bring back when I'm like 50, 60 years old.
little sun little moon little dog and a little to eat and a little to love and a little to live for in a little room filled with little mice who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep waiting for a little death in the middle of a little morning in a little city in a little state my little mother dead my little father dead in a little cemetery somewhere. I have only a little time to tell you this: watch out for little death when he comes running but like all the billions of little deaths it will finally mean nothing and everything: all your little tears burning like the dove, wasted.
I like using odd materials or odd components for embroideries. I've always liked that Elsa Schiaparelli world of playing with unusual objects to make something really beautiful. That's part of the game. We can do things that are lighthearted and playful but we also do things that are quite dark and sinister. I oscillate between the two.
I was playing golf in Palm Springs and after a round I asked the waitress in a restaurant to bring me a glass of iced tea and lemonade. A lady sitting nearby heard me and asked the waitress to bring her a "Palmer," too. The name caught on and the beverage quickly spread around the country.
I can't say this too often - that a little humor can make life worth living. That has always been my credo. Somebody once asked me, 'What would you like your epitaph to be?' I've always said that I'd like it to be: He left people a little happier than they were when he came into the room.
But what does he do to qualify as a sonovabitch?” Jenny asked. “Make me”, I replied. “Beg pardon?” “Make me”, I repeated. Her eyes widened like saucers. “You mean like incest?” she asked. “Don’t give me your family problems, Jen. I have enough of my own.” “Like what, Oliver?” she asked, “like just what is it he makes you do?” “The ‘right things’”, I said. “What’s wrong with the ‘right things’?” she asked, delighting in the apparent paradox.
If you're surrounded by idiots, you're the unpopular one and the odd one out because idiots don't like smart asses.
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