In my own worst seasons I've come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again(15).

Eaters must understand, how we eat determines how the world is used.

My worst nightmare is being stuck somewhere with nothing to read.

Perhaps growing up meant we put our knives away and feigned ignorance of the damage.

There is no perfect time to write. There is only now.

Food culture in the United States has long been cast as the property of a privileged class. It is nothing of the kind. Culture is the property of a species.

It's what you do that makes your soul.