Most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak.

It is hard and perhaps impossible for many people to recognize the difference between innocence and naiveté.

When I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.

I like old people when they have aged well.

When shall we live if not now?

In America we eat, collectively, with a glum urge for food to fill us. We are ignorant of flavour. We are as a nation taste-blind.

There's a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk.