When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.

A writing cook and a cooking writer must be bold at the desk as well as the stove.

I live with carpe diem engraved on my heart.

It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.

I cannot count the good people I know who to my mind would be even better if they bent their spirits to the study of their own hungers.

I like old people when they have aged well. And old houses with an accumulation of sweet honest living in them are good. And the timelessness that only the passing of Time itself can give to objects both inside and outside the spirit is a continuing reassurance.

...for me there is too little of life to spend most of it forcing myself into detachment from it.