A Quote by Roald Dahl
He turned and reached behind him for the chocolate bar, then he turned back again and handed it to Charlie. Charlie grabbed it and quickly tore off the wrapper and took an enormous bite. Then he took another…and another…and oh, the joy of being able to cram large pieces of something sweet and solid into one's mouth! The sheer blissful joy of being able to fill one's mouth with rich solid food! 'You look like you wanted that one, sonny,' the shopkeeper said pleasantly. Charlie nodded, his mouth bulging with chocolate.
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For Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, he came to me and said, "I want to do everything that's in the book, and as much more as you need, so that it all makes sense." I was like, "Okay!" And then, I would pitch back to him my love for Charlie Bucket's family and how lucky Charlie was, and that I felt so bad for Willy Wonka, shut up in his factory, all alone with these crazy Oompa Loompas.
The only exercise I got as a kid was fork to mouth. Food was equated with love in my household. I thought you left the table when the zipper was down and you'd explode if you took another bite. I'd eat my plate and then everyone else's leftovers.
Kylie bit down on her lip. Burnett took a step forward. He squared his shoulders, empathy filling his eyes. He took a deep, apparent heartfelt breath and looked at Kylie. She nodded at him as if giving him the lead. He looked back at Holiday and, in a deep voice, said, "Kylie has something to tell you." Kylie's mouth fell open and right then she knew it was official. Men sucked at verbal communication especially where anything emotional was concerned.
I watched that new reality show on ABC with Charlie Gibson, 'America's Next Top Vice President.' ... Oh, what an exciting show that is! Did you see Sarah Palin's interview with Charlie Gibson? Did you all watch that? In fact, John McCain was watching it at home, and at one point, he turned to his wife and said, 'She looks really familiar.'
Desari reached up to trace his lips. ‘You have a perfect mouth, Julian. An amazingly perfect mouth.’ He arched an eyebrow at her. ‘Just my mouth is amazing?’ ‘You are such a man.’ Her eyes laughed at him. ‘You need constant reassurance that you are magnificent.’ He nodded. ‘Magnificent. I like that. I could live with magnificent. Good choice of words, lifemate.
Charlie would be so proud of what these young people are accomplishing today and, in true Charlie fashion, would encourage them to walk to the very edge of their comfort zone and then take another step.
The moment the door closed behind him, Tessa was in Will's arms, her hands locked about his neck. "Oh, by the Angel," she said. "That was mortifying." Will slid his hands into her hair and was kissing her, kissing her eyelids and her cheeks and then her mouth, quickly but with fervor and concentration, as if nothing could be more important. "Listen to you," he said. "You said 'by the angel.' Like a Shadowhunter." He kissed the side of her mouth. "I love you. God, I love you. I waited so long to say it.
My biggest tip is this... treat bread like chocolate. You wouldn't have a chocolate bar in the morning and then a double chocolate bar at lunch and then some chocolate before dinner. I was essentially eating a loaf of bread a day. And that doesn't work for me.
she kissed him with all the aching longing that being this close to him evoked; she kissed him in all the ways he had ever kissed her, feeling faint with joy when he began to kiss her back, his mouth moving with fierce tenderness, then opening with fiery demand over hers, until their breaths were mingled gasps, and they were straining to one another.
Musicians in my day had nicknames. My name was "Satchel Mouth," like a doctor's satchel. When I went to England this fellow was strictly English, and he was editor of the newspaper there. He shook my hand after I got off the train and said, "Hello, Satchmo." So right away my trombone player said, "Mmm, the man thinks you have mo' mouth than Satchel Mouth." So I was stuck with it, and it turned out all right.
But Charlie, Charlie, how can we ever really know anything? Charlie, what or who is God?
I met Charlie Trotter before I actually saw him in person; I was 24 when I first opened the pages of Charlie's cookbook 'Charlie Trotter's' and was greeted by a man I would know and admire for the next 20 years.
The world is wrong. You can't put the past behind you. It's buried in you; it's turned your flesh into its own cupboard. Not everything remembered is useful but it all comes from the world to be stored in you. Who did what to whom on which day? Who said that? She said what? What did he just do? Did she really say that? He said what? What did she do? Did I hear what I think I heard? Did that just come out of my mouth, his mouth, your mouth? Do you remember when you sighed?
I like the fact that by mimicking the way memory works, a writer can actually write in a fluid way - one solid scene doesn't have to fall on another solid scene, you can just have a fragment that then dovetails into another one that took place 30 years apart from it.
Food-wise, oh man, I tend to really indulge on vacation because a lot of my friends are incredible chefs. One friend makes an eggplant parmesan that is heavenly and melts in your mouth, and another makes a chocolate pudding that I can't resist.
He says, "I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I wanted you then, and when I thought you didn't want me, I turned my love into hate." "Ethan..." Before I say another word his mouth comes down over mine and he kisses me.
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