A Quote by T. H. White

The fisherman fishes as the urchin eats cream buns, from lust. — © T. H. White
The fisherman fishes as the urchin eats cream buns, from lust.
For creamy sea urchin pasta recipes, the typical process is to saute garlic, shallots, and chilies in olive oil, then add the pasta and pour in a sauce made from raw sea urchin roe blended with softened butter or heavy cream.
I loathe the urchin's cruelty to the cat, but I will not loathe the urchin. I loathe Hitler's mass-torturing, but not Hitler; and the money-man's heartlessness, but not the man. I love the swallow's flight, and I love the swallow; the urchin's gleam of tenderness, and the urchin.
Fishes and tales And a fisherman's daughter Walks in the rain, She walks to the water To the sea.
I really don't think I need buns of steel. I'd be happy with buns of cinnamon.
Wise man is a lake full with fishes; clever man is a fisherman who often visits this lake!
A typical Irish dinner would be: cream flavored with lobster, cream with bits of veal in it, green peas and cream, cream cheese, cream flavored with strawberries.
He told us about Christ's disciples being fisherman, and we were left to assume...that all great fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fisherman and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.
Fisherman deceives the fish with bait; this action makes the fisherman dishonest! For a fisherman to be honest, he must not put any bait to his fishhook! He who dares to be ideally honest, let him know how hard it is to be such an honest!
What does the money machine eat? It eats youth, spontaneity, life, beauty, and, above all, it eats creativity. It eats quality and sh*ts quantity.
Tenderness and lust are just immature little brothers of love. Yes of course it was lust... but I'm not sure how evolved or resolved that lust was.
Perhaps as good a classification as any of the main types is that of the three lusts distinguished by traditional Christianity - the lust of knowledge, the lust of sensation, and the lust of power.
Death is a fisherman, the world we see His fish-pond is, and we the fishes be; His net some general sickness; howe'er he Is not so kind as other fishers be; For if they take one of the smaller fry, They throw him in again, he shall not die: But death is sure to kill all he can get, And all is fish with him that comes to net.
I have seen one shrike occupy himself for hours in sticking up on thorns, a number of small fishes that the fishermen had thrown on the shore. The fishes dried up and decayed.
My grandad was a fisherman and my dad was a fisherman.
It eats at me. And if it eats at me, I'm going to make sure it eats at (my team).
Contrary to common belief, it is not true that if you cut a worm-fisherman in half, each half will grow into a complete fisherman. For which we should all be eternally grateful.
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