Feast Quotes

“Jon:'What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?'
Tyrion: 'Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine', the dwarf told him. 'I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“We were talking about the prince,' Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.
Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“Those were the people who made her something, and without them she was different. She'd held on to them and to that old self tenaciously, though. She clung to it, celebrated it, worshipped it even, instead of constructing a new grown-up life for herself. For years she'd been eating the cold crumbs left over from a great feast, living on them as though they could last her forever.”
― Ann Brashares, Sisterhood Everlasting

“My books are a word feast.”
― Lori R. Lopez

“Food to eat and games to play.
Tell me why, tell me why.
Serve it out and eat it up.
Have a try, have a try.”
― Brian Jacques

“Take him away. Prepare a feast. Forget nothing. My crown: the golden cutlery. The poison bottles; and the fumes; the wreaths of ivy and the bloody joints; the chains; the bowl of nettles; the spices; the baskets of fresh grass; the skulls and spines; the ribs and shoulder-blades. Forget nothing or, by the blindness of my sockets, I will have your hearts out. Take him away...”
― Mervyn Peake, Boy in Darkness and Other Stories

“They lurk in the cold and dark.Hungry and,wicked,they wait for their one chance to devour the weak on Sorry Night.Then the vours feast on a banquet of fear.Your fear.They steal your soul but your body remains.No one knows the difference.”
― Simon Holt, The Devouring

“A feast will leave your heart empty.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“But despite heavy clouds, a feeling of contentment hangs in the air, coming from the kitchen's ability to be two things at once: to be an enclosed space that effectively opens up the world through taste and flavor and imagination. Nature comes in here. Pomegranate seeds on rice dishes, a strip of orange peel for a negroni, or a ribbon of lemon skin for a martini. A lime wedge for gin. A bowl of ripening pears. A jar of dates. Peaches roasted in rose water and stuffed with marzipan. Blackberries scattered on pancakes. Apricots cinched in chutney. Memories of melons, and the vine pergolas and fruit trees of summer, of prized Uzbek cherries carried in boxes across borders. The kitchen is an orchard.”
― Caroline Eden, Cold Kitchen: A Year of Culinary Travels

“It wasn't until I had almost died, that I’d learned just how little I had almost lived.”
― Broms The Poet, Feast

“Take the break before the break takes you.”
― Broms The Poet, Feast

“And he said...

...eat your fill, but never as a feast of gluttony.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“And he said...

...crabs will only feast after man has filled his plate.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“And he said...

...a man of conscience will never feast on a coalbed of famine.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“May it not be that you no longer care, only that you care no longer, for that which does not care for you.”
― Broms The Poet, Feast

“I added up their opinions, divided them by my truths, subtracted my expectations, and tallied them by the proof. Took a fraction of my fears and rounded them to a fifth, which equalled out to my freedom and summed up the way I live. And I ain't good at mathematics, know, I ain't no ancient Greek. I'm just the square root of a factor tree,
and the answer is always…me.”
― Broms The Poet, Feast

“They wheeled in golden carts covered in snacks and treats as pretty as treasure in a chest. There were cookies shaped like castles, tarts topped in glistening pastel fruit, poached pears in a swirling golden sauce, candied dates wearing miniature crowns, and oysters on ice with pink pearls that glistened under the light.”
― Stephanie Garber, A Curse for True Love

“Abundance wears many faces. The got of plenty is also the god of decay. There can be no life without death, no feast without famine.”
― Carissa Broadbent, Six Scorched Roses

“Bagna càuda with a plentiful variety of steamed winter vegetables and a rich anchovy sauce, thinly cut slices of warmed salt pork, a tofu and leek gratin, rice cooked in an earthenware pot with vegetables and chopped oysters, and miso soup--- the dishes had a vitality to them which came from using only the freshest ingredients, and though the seasoning was unobtrusive, all the flavors had pleasing depth. Weren't oysters supposed to be good for fertility? Rika thought as she brought to her lips a mouthful of rice enriched with soy sauce, whose smell put her in mind of the sea, shooting a glance over at her friend. She realized that she had more of an appetite than she could remember having in a long time, and that if this was largely owing to how delicious the food was, it was also in part to do with the way Ryōsuke ate, as if in a state of ecstasy.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“One day, sadly not so long from now, you will find yourself looking back with either great pride or grand penitence. Life is short. BELONG.”
― Broms The Poet, FEAST: The Second Serving: Revised, Revitalized, and Re-Realized

“Tucking into the bite-sized pie decorated with the orange carrot flower, her eyes widened at how delicious the braised new onions and carrots were, the cumin perfectly drawing out their sweetness. The main dish of lamb, cut from the bone as soon as it was placed on the table, was so glorious to behold that it made her heart race. Protected by its wall of sweet breadcrumbs, orange peel and fresh coriander, the meat had the robust smell of a grassy plain. The strawberry mousse served as dessert, brought out after the hard rich orange cheese that reminded her of dried mullet roe, was fluffy and soft, sweet yet tart. For the first time this year, Rika felt that the season when all the flowers would come into bloom was at arm's reach.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“Angels waltz around like in one of my daydreams, glitter-dusted as the faeries I was warned about as a child. They're mystic, with spindly limbs and gossamer hair and skin that glows. Their wings unfurl behind them, some gilded and others adorned with pale pink shimmer. They flutter across the flower-filled glade, twirling like falling feathers. A few of the angels thread starlight into garlands or coax the flowers to bloom. A train of them braid baby's breath into one another's hair. Others lay fruit in front of what looks like shrines--- seashells brimming with water and floating petals that gleam with reflections of the moon.
It's like something out of a storybook. Lanterns are strung between the evergreens, casting their light over a long table. On top of a silk tablecloth, candelabras drip with wax and flowers are strewn about--- cerise roses, vibrant marigolds, velvet violets, and pale bluebells. Fresh fruit spills out of a giant shell like a cornucopia--- mangoes, peaches, guavas, champagne grapes and deep red cherries. Dark wine fills crystal cups. Rose-jam tarts with wild raspberries and hibiscus petals pile alongside tea cakes piped with custard and sugared primroses. In the center of the feast is a roasted duck glazed with honey and decorated with slices of pineapple. The smell of buttered potatoes lingers in the air, fragrant with hints of rosemary and garlic.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea

“The dining room has been transformed into a fairy garden this evening. Flowers are strewn across the long table--- magnolias, anemones, and roses--- paired with hydrangea-and-peony centerpieces. Long taper candles flicker over the display, complemented by the remaining sunlight. A feast sprawls out from one end of the table to the other, a medley of some of my favorites--- crab cioppino with bright tomatoes and red wine, garlic bread flecked with parsley, linguine and clams swimming in broth, seared abalone presented in its opalescent shell, fresh oysters on a bed of ice.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea

“Thanksgiving Day, the day we feast. The day we pray, and eat the beast.”
― Amy Weinland Daughters, You Cannot Mess This Up: A True Story That Never Happened

“Are you hungry for rain, because a feast is coming?”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“Eat bees and you will have a stinging appetite.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“Setbacks and failure are all part of a well-balanced kitchen diet and life. I have come to know this. And it makes me think about Carla's satisfying and assured title, taken from the Bible: 'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith' (Proverbs 15:17). But it is another proverb that perhaps best sums up her well-travelled, well-fed life: 'a contented mind is a continual feast' (Proverbs 15:15).”
― Caroline Eden, Cold Kitchen: A Year of Culinary Travels

“A final menu was drawn up, with chutney sandwiches, mutton cutlets, pork sausages, chicken fry, homemade sponge cake, boiled chickpeas, fruit punch and potato chips from Ideal Wafers at Khotachi Wadi making it to the busy list.”
― Jane Borges, Bombay Balchão

“She'd grown up on a sun-drenched island called Eano, where you were in far more danger of sunburn than frostbite. She used to walk barefoot through the sand and feel it tickle her toes on her way to her cousins' house, and she'd swim every sunset in the sun-warmed water before her parents called her in for dinner. At the height of summer, you could cook mussels and clams by leaving them out on the rocks, and you had to drink fruit juice to stay hydrated or you'd risk the wrath of the cluster of grandfathers who'd hand out pitchers of guava and watery sweet-berry juice at every street corner. Remembering, Terlu could almost taste the hint of sweet-berry. It was the flavor of the summer solstice, when the whole island would be decked out in flowers and smell like chocolate and cinnamon and citrus as every baker and aspiring baker would compete to create the most delectable pastries for the Summer Feast...”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Enchanted Greenhouse

“There are too many steps, and I’m scared I’m going to do it wrong and ruin Christmas like Patrick said. “I didn’t read the instructions early enough to do this at a reasonable time. This is my longest break of the year, and I’ve spent it vacuuming, dusting, decorating, and now I’m making a whole damn feast. If this was a school night, I’d be winding down already. Instead, I’m cosplaying Ina Garten!”
― Timothy Janovsky, The Merriest Misters