A Quote by Dylan Thomas
I liked the taste of beer, its live, white lather, its brass-bright depths, the sudden world through the wet-brown walls of the glass, the tilted rush to the lips and the slow swallowing down to the lapping belly, the salt on the tongue, the foam at the corners.
Related Quotes
But grief still has to be worked through. It is like walking through water. Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet. Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down. Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall. But I know that many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.
And to my lips' Bright crimson rim The passion slips, And down my slim White body drips The shining hymn.
There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who, when presented with a glass that is exactly half full, say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass! Who's been pinching my beer?
In any communication, or in any situation which you cannot confront because it is exaggerating, hot or aggressive, just change your breath. Breathe through the lips instead of through the nostrils. Exhale always through the nostrils. Inhale through the rolled lips and make it slow and long. It will slow everything as required. It will increase your sensitivity. It will give you 10 times more projection over the person you are talking to.
The dimmed outlines of phenomenal things all merge into one another unless we put on the focusing-glass of theory, and screw it up sometimes to one pitch of definition and sometimes to another, so as to see down into different depths through the great millstone of the world.
Each day I live in a glass room unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape.
The beer sold here in the United States is sweet and watery and lacking in taste and overcarbonated and just generally the lamest, wimpiest beer in the entire known world. All the other nations are drinking Ray Charles beer, and we are drinking Barry Manilow.
Dain kept his gaze on his plate and concentrated on swallowing the morsel he'd just very nearly choked on. She was possessive... about him. The beautiful, mad creature - or blind and deaf creature, or whatever she was - coolly announced it as one might say, "Pass the salt cellar," without the smallest awareness that the earth had just tilted on its axis.
Slow and steady wins the race, then wastes no time grinding salt-caked glass in your open wounds.
As the last drops fell from the glass to my tongue, I wondered - only for an instant - what perhaps I'd never know. What would it taste like, what would it feel like, if that liquid sliding down my throat was not champagne. But the elixir of life. Katheine Neville.
If you pinch the sea of its liberty, though it be walls of stone or brass, it will beat them down.
Just as the great oceans have but one taste, the taste of salt, so too there is but one taste fundamental to all true teachings of the way, and this is the taste of freedom.
Just as the great ocean has one taste, the taste of salt, so also this teaching and discipline has one taste, the taste of liberation.
[I normally go-to] whiskey on the rocks. Or a beer. Or with dinner, a glass of white wine.
Salt is a powerful symbol in Haiti, as elsewhere. Salt of the earth, for example is an American phrase. In Haiti, myth and legend has it that if you are turned into a zombie, if someone gives you a taste of salt, then you can come back to life. And in the life of the fishermen, there are so many little things about salt that I wanted to incorporate. The salt in the air. The crackling of salt in the fire. There's all this damage, this peeling of the fishing boats from the sea salt. But there is also healing from it, sea baths that are supposed to heal all kinds of aches and wounds.
The walls were wet and sticky, and peach juice was dripping from the ceiling. James opened his mouth and caught some of it on his tongue. It tasted delicious.
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