A Quote by Jack Kerouac
Way far back in the beginning of the world was the whirlwind warning that we could all be blown away like chips and cry- Men with tired eyes realize it now, and wait to deform and decay- with maybe they have the power of love yet in their hearts just the same, I just don't know what that word means anymore- All I want is an ice cream cone
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'Constitutional' is just a real pip of a word. Positively rolls off the tongue. In fact, it's downright fun to say. 'Con-stit-too-shun-al.' It's the verbal equivalent of skipping down the street with an ice cream cone in your hand. It's like a semantic bag of Lays potato chips. You simply can't just say it once.
I have ice cream every week. Maybe twice. I live for ice cream, but not just any ice cream. It has to be locally sourced and usually somewhere I can walk to.
I’m not at peace anymore. I just want him like I used to in the old days. I want to be eating sandwiches with him. I want to be drinking with him in a bar. I’m tired and I don’t want anymore pain. I want Maurice. I want ordinary corrupt human love. Dear God, you know I want to want Your pain, but I don’t want it now. Take it away for a while and give it me another time.
It's not a diet, it's a way of life that teaches you better skills. For years, I felt like I could never have ice cream, but now I can eat ice cream occasionally!
I think unadulterated products and smaller portion sizes mean consumption of less food overall. Portion is everything. The first time I bought a scoop of ice cream in Paris, they weighed the ice cream on a scale before putting it on the cone. It was so small, it fell into the cone as she handed it to me.
'Ice Cream' is such a sweet song, just like ice cream! Whenever I need to relieve some stress, or just want to feel better about something, I listen to it.
But I'd like the pie heated and I don't want the ice cream on top I want it on the side and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it if not then no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it's real if it's out of a can then nothing.
You want a drumstick? Like a ice cream cone or a chicken wing!?
I actually think the same things do make most people happy. The differences are extremely small, and around the margins. You like peach ice cream; I like strawberry ice cream. Both of us like ice cream much better than a smack on the head with two-by-four.
At my school, they have an ice cream special sometimes, and they have this ice cream sandwich, except the sandwich part is like an Oreo and the inside like cookies n' cream ice cream. I love that.
In the middle of the night I am awakened by a sound. I sit up abruptly in bed. I hear it again. It's music. Wait, it sounds like the ice cream man, in our house. Is this some kind of twisted nightmare? The flipping ice cream man, breaking in to chop us all up in our beds to the tune of 'Zippity Do Dah'?... My heart slows. I remember. There is no psycho ice cream man here. It is just our new musical soap dispenser.
I was having panic attacks. I didn't want to live that way anymore. I was in love and I wanted it to work. I was tired of travelling, tired of the whole scene, just tired. I sat around. I was lazy. I wanted a routine, and I wanted to wake up in the same bed every day, and I got my wish.
The back windows looked out over the fields, then the Atlantic, maybe a hundred yards away. Actually, I'm just making that bit up. I had no idea how far away the sea was. Only men could do things like that. "Half a mile." "Fifty yards." Giving directions, that sort of thing. I could look at a woman and say "Thirty-six C." Or "Let's try it in the next size up." But I had no idea how far away Tim's sea was except that I wouldn't want to walk to it in high heels.
I know I can do so much more than this, I know that I could be a life force, could love with a heart full of soul, could feel with the power that flies men to the moon. I know that if I could just get out from under this depression, there is so much I could do besides cry in front of the TV on a Saturday night.
For the life of me, I could not make a good-looking ice-cream cone.
Derek’s like, “So . . . what do you want to do first?” “I don’t know.” “Feel like ice cream?” “It’s, like, three degrees out.” “That’s why getting ice cream would be badass.
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