“I am in no way supportive of hunting for trophies or sport – would never do it and don’t like it that others do. But if you kill it, then eat it, it’s fine.”

There’s something wonderful about drinking in the afternoon. A not-too-cold pint, absolutely alone at the bar – even in this fake-ass Irish pub.

There is no Final Resting Place of the Mind.

It’s very rarely a good career move to have a conscience.

I’m a big believer in winging it. I’m a big believer that you’re never going to find the perfect city travel experience or the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one.

I could eat bloody Elvis – if you put enough vinegar on him.

It’s an irritating reality that many places and events defy description.

If you’re twenty-two, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel – as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them – wherever you go.

He doesn’t yearn for a better, different life than the one he has – because he knows he’s got a home in this one.

The journey is part of the experience – an expression of the seriousness of one’s intent. One doesn’t take the A train to Mecca.

Under ‘Reasons for Leaving Last Job’, never give the real reason, unless it’s money or ambition.

No one understands and appreciates the American Dream of hard work leading to material rewards better than a non-American.

Writing anything is a treason of sorts.

Only desperation can account for what the Chinese do in the name of ‘medicine.’

Good food is very often, even most often, simple food.

Without new ideas, success can become stale.

Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.

He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.

I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen when company comes, but I laugh, and eat well, and grow strong.

I bought a box of animal crackers, but there was nothing inside. They’d eaten each other.

We must eat to live, and not live to eat.

He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.

I worked like a horse and I ate like a hog and I slept like a dead man.

We can’t all be lions in this world. There must be some lambs, harmless, kindly, gregarious creatures for eating and shearing.

Bittersweet memories dancing in the pupils of my hollowed out eyes, these sugar-coated recollections attempt to latch onto me ultimately eating me alive.