A Quote by Jhumpa Lahiri

Gogol is unaccustomed to this sort of talk at mealtimes, to the indulgent ritual of the lingering meal, and the pleasant aftermath of bottles and crumbs and empty glasses that clutter the table.
Gogol remembers having to do the same thing when he was younger, when his grandparents died...He remembers, back then, being bored by it, annoyed at having to observe a ritual no one else he knew followed, in honor of people he had seen only a few times in his life...Now, sitting together at the kitchen table at six-thirty every evening, his father's chair empty, this meatless meal is the only thing that seems to make sense.
Most of [ the Negro leaders] who - who, whose existence or whose position of leadership depends upon the - on the subsidy or crumbs for - the crumbs from the white man's table, will only say what that white man wants to hear. When they get behind the door they talk a different language.
I'm pleased to see that the cab is cluttered with cough drop wrappers and empty milk bottles and bits of mud-smeared newspapers made brittle by age. Neatness makes me feel like I have to be on my best behavior. Clutter is my natural habitat.
Growing up in Ireland, there never seemed to be the notion that children should be seen and not heard. We all looked forward to mealtimes when we'd sit around the table and talk about our days. Storytelling and long, rambling conversations were considered good things.
Charity provides crumbs from the table; justice offers a place at the table.
This is how the world changes - little by little, table by table, meal by meal, hour by hour. This is how we chip away at isolation, loneliness, fear. This is how we connect, in big and small ways - we do it around the table.
Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty. He could picture himself a very happy man at that table. "Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.
I went to the trash pile at Tuskegee Institute and started my laboratory with bottles, old fruit jars and any other thing I found I could use. ... [The early efforts were] worked out almost wholly on top of my flat topped writing desk and with teacups, glasses, bottles and reagents I made myself.
My family always ate dinner at the table, and we would chat about our day while eating. My parents like to have a few glasses of wine and linger after the meal is over, peeling oranges for dessert while talking. It's lovely.
The saving of empty beer and liquor bottles is a strange college phenomenon. I bet most of you college students reading this right now have some empties on a shelf in your room. Everyone knows how much college kids like to drink, do we really need to display it? It's a good thing, though, that this trend stops after college. Wouldn't it be weird if your parents had empty wine bottles up on their bedroom wall?
Usually, the music inspires the lyrics. The lyrics just sort of fall off like a bunch of crumbs from the melody. That's all I want them to be - crumbs. I don't want to work any kind of fabricated message.
The decline of the Sunday meal is a major concern because it means that family values are being forgotten. Once that creeps into mealtimes, it will begin creeping into other areas.
Good families always ritualize the table. You can say, "This is a Christmas meal; this is a birthday meal."
To follow my meal, I'd drink a glass of my uncle's homemade apricot schnapps. He puts it in beautiful glass bottles and sells it at his local market in Austria. You don't normally drink with Asian food, so this would be a fitting end to the meal.
For table-talk, I prefer the pleasant and witty before the learned and the grave; in bed, beauty before goodness.
I love [Nikolai] Gogol's great eye for idiot behavior. Gogol said that life is so tragic, so stupendously sad that we'd better laugh a lot and enjoy ourselves. You either get a sense of humor going or you go under.
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