A Quote by John Steinbeck

Oh, the strawberries don't taste as they used to and the thighs of women have lost their clutch! — © John Steinbeck
Oh, the strawberries don't taste as they used to and the thighs of women have lost their clutch!
Since I've been pregnant, I've lost my taste for fast food. I used to be the biggest McDonald's junkie and now I don't like it anymore. I used to be the biggest fast-food connoisseur, and now I've really lost my taste for it.
You can pick wild strawberries with your eyes closed, locating them by smell, for they are two parts perfume to one part taste. An hour of searching might yield a handful if you're lucky. Wild strawberries can't be encouraged, nor can they be discouraged: They come to you unbidden and unearned. They appear, or do not, by the grace of the sun.
Most of the nations that have serious gardening cultures have, or had, empires. You can't have this luxury of pleasure without somebody paying for it. This is nice to know. It's nice to know that when you sit down to enjoy a plate of strawberries, somebody got paid very little so that you could have your strawberries. It doesn't mean the strawberries will taste different, but it's nice to enjoy things less than we do. We enjoy things far too much, and it leads to incredible pain and suffering.
One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste.
If you are ever wondering, 'If I have thinner thighs and shinier hair will I be happier?' you just need to meet a group of models because they have the thinnest thighs and the shiniest hair and the coolest clothes and they're the most physically insecure women on the planet.
I want you to make u and go halfzies on this cake. K? But. . . I want a piece too, so i guess we'll have to go thirdzies. . . Awwww, we're not going to be able to split the strawberry on top though. What should we do? Maybe I should just take it after all strawberries are my favorite. . . oh! I forgot to ask Hiku-chan, Kau-chan do you like strawberries? -Hunny
taste governs every free - as opposed to rote - human response. Nothing is more decisive. There is taste in people, visual taste, taste in emotion - and there is taste in acts, taste in morality. Intelligence, as well, is really a kind of taste: taste in ideas.
Indian men are still used to the traditional role given to women; they want intelligent girls for company but not to marry... they have yet to taste and relish the company of mature women.
It's hard to let go anything we love. We live in a world which teaches us to clutch. But when we clutch we're left with a fistful of ashes.
I feel like I have big thighs. My brother was always like, 'Yeah, I want big thighs! Big thighs are awesome!' And I'm like, 'Yeah, for a man!' But I've trained since I was 6 years old to play soccer, and this is just the type of body I have.
I've never heard any guys say, 'Oh, I love her thighs.'
There's nothing more satisfying than going to a market and meeting the person who picked the strawberries, or it's their farm that the strawberries came from, and giving them a fair value in exchange for what they're giving you.
As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.
'Cobra Clutch' was to let the world know we ain't going nowhere. We got the game in the cobra clutch.
I am running through a snowfall which is her thighs, he dramatized in purple. Her thighs are filling up the street. Wide as a snowfall, heavy as huge falling Zeppelins, her damp thighs are settling on the sharp roofs and wooden balconies. Weather-vanes press the shape of roosters and sail-boats into the skin. The faces of famous statues are preserved like intaglios.
What's amazing to me now is that I actually recall fixating on the fact that my thighs a-l-m-o-s-t touched at the top....If I could go back in time and slap my eighteen-year-old self, I would. I would tell her to snap out of it, because that's the best you thighs will ever be. You should take pictures of your thighs right now so you can remember how amazing they were!
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