A Quote by Mark Lawrenson

Cucumber reminds me of my mother making me eat sprouts. — © Mark Lawrenson
Cucumber reminds me of my mother making me eat sprouts.
I don't eat meat - chicken, fish, none of that. I eat a lot of vegetable sandwiches, like lettuce, tomatoes, sprouts, cucumbers, whatever I can put on bread with mayo and eat, y'know.
My mother carried me for 10 months. I asked her 'Mother, you had an extra month, why you didn't make me a beautiful face?' and mother told me, 'My son, I was busy making your beautiful hands and heart.'
Coming from New York, I know that if you go by a delicatessen, and you put a sweet cucumber in the vinegar barrel, the cucumber might say, "No, I want to retain my sweetness." But it's hopeless. The barrel will turn the sweet cucumber into a pickle. You can't be a sweet cucumber in a vinegar barrel.
I love Halloween. It reminds me of my happy childhood days as a student at Wampus Elementary School in Armonk, N.Y., when we youngsters used to celebrate Halloween by making decorations out of construction paper and that white paste that you could eat.
My mother used to pitch to me and my father would shag balls. If I hit one up the middle close to my mother, I'd have some extra chores to do. My mother was instrumental in making me a pull hitter.
It may be healthier to eat beer and franks with cheer and thanks, than to eat sprouts and bread with doubts and dread.
"Close your mouth when you chew." That was my mother's big one.Why do people eat lunch together? I want to eat by myself. Chewing is one of the most revolting things to me. Wind makes me unnerved, too.
It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself up out of the dark abyss of pish and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.
Don't ever ask me again if I hate living anywhere with you and Jasmina. This Rock reminds me of the boy I was and being with you in the palace reminds me of the man I want to be.' 'Not just any man,' she whispered. 'A King. Mine.
My mother was the making of me. She was so true and so sure of me, I felt that I had someone to live for - someone I must not disappoint. The memory of my mother will always be a blessing to me.
I have an imagination that will go in any direction it is prodded. I pride myself on being able to become enthusiastic about anything: If you tell me to write a screenplay about cucumber farms, I'll swallow hard, and in 48 hours, I'll be in love with cucumber farms.
That smell of freshly cut grass makes me think of Friday night football in high school. The smell of popcorn and cigar smoke reminds me of the stadium. The cutting of the grass reminds me of the August practice.
I don't really remember, but I'm positive that whenever I cried, my mother gave me something to eat. I'm sure that whenever I had a fight with the little girl next door, or it was raining and I couldn't go out, or I wasn't invited to a birthday party, my mother gave me a piece of candy to make me feel better.
Cooking certain dishes, like roast pork, reminds me of my mother.
Try saying this: 'What's true for me today is that I have angry feelings concerning what I heard you say when you said what you said. It reminds me of what my mother said when she said what she said, and that hurts me so that's where I'm at with this, and it's not all right with me for today.' This should help to avoid a lot of communication problems.
I have a lot of family in South Africa, but I grew up in California. I feel like my name keeps me connected to a long line of people that have been through a heck of a lot. It reminds me to stay grateful, and it reminds me to try and step my game up if I'm slacking.
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