A Quote by Gina Neely

Life happens, honey. What are you going to do? Cry in a bowl of milk? — © Gina Neely
Life happens, honey. What are you going to do? Cry in a bowl of milk?
At my restaurant, we made a dessert called 'milk and honey.' It's milk ice cream that looks like a snowball, and then you cut into it, and honey runs out.
Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew there was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too.
My joking answer to this question is that I leave a bowl of milk out on the back porch every night for the Idea Fairy. In the morning, the milk is gone and there's a brand-new shiny idea by the bowl.
My dad studies and practices homeopathy and Ayurveda medicine. He's a strong believer in both honey and milk as forms of healing. Honey is the one food that does not die. It does not expire. Growing up, he'd always be mixing up almonds or turmeric or gram flower with milk to cure a cough or a cold.
I always have ice cream in the house. I have a bowl of it, and then a bit more. One of the greatest pleasures in my life is going back and getting a second half-bowl. The first bowl is just the prelude.
You should never eat when you're on the toilet. "But I'm lactose-intolerant, and I always wanted to enjoy a bowl of Puffins with whole milk!" That's more of an almond milk cereal, but live your dream.
On weekdays, I have whole oats mixed with almond milk, yogurt and berries. At times, I also opt for a bowl of almond milk and porridge.
Meditation is like taking a little milk and honey bath on your psyche. "Just let that go, no, you don't need that." Then you're like, "Oh, I didn't need that," and it's really just a perception shift. I think what happens in meditation is that you drop into the oneness, and you have this little reminder that that's the truth, and what we're doing here is this game ... this life experience gift.
If you know somebody is going to be awfully annoyed by something you write, that's obviously very satisfying, and if they howl with rage or cry, that's honey.
And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Man is a thief, an impudent thief! He steals honey from bees, eggs from chickens, milk from cows and life from the God!
Later when I thought of the chickens, one of those rare pale blue eggs rose up into my throat. The chickens had been part of our family, and the egg in my throat was the feeling of something missing. It was hard and smooth and heavy, but also so fragile it might break and make me cry. It was the feeling of growing out of a favorite shirt, milk spilled on the floor, the last bit of honey in the jar, falling apple blossoms. It was the lump in the throat behind everything beautiful in life.
I make my own face exfoliant at home, using finely ground rice powder mixed with milk or yogurt. I also treat my skin to a honey, rose water, glycerine and lemon face pack. The honey moisturises, and the lemon removes impurities.
When I was growing up, chocolate milk was a treat, and the chocolate milk that ended up in a bowl of Cocoa Puffs when I had those for breakfast was the biggest treat of all.
In a world of smoke and ashes, you are milk and honey
I've been eating honey since I was young. I've been putting it on everything. I put it on fried chicken, put it on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I put it on my cereal. What else do I put honey on? I put honey on my face. Man, honey is the essential item to life.
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