Your mind now, moldering like wedding-cake, heavy with useless experience, rich with suspicion, rumour, fantasy, crumbling to pieces under the knife-edge of mere fact. In the prime of your life.
Death smells like birthday cake.
Glen had a disability more disfiguring than a burn and more terrifying than cancer. Glen had been born on the day after Christmas. "My parents just combine my birthday with Christmas, that's all," he explained. But we knew this was a lie. Glen's parents just wrapped a couple of his Christmas presents in birthday-themed wrapping paper, stuck some candles in a supermarket cake, and had a dinner of Christmas leftovers.
What about you?" "Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something.
The news should have terrified her, but it was difficult to be frightened of anything when she was sitting so close to Rom. 'I thought we had convinced him that I was leading a blameless life?' 'We had, till you burst out of that damnable cake.
Devil's Food?" You can only eat so much white cake, my friend.
I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake.
What I look for is a man who can be a friend, someone who is an equal and one with whom I feel comfortable. I want to be happy and loved, and not settling for something second best and less than I deserve. But a relationship of and by itself is not what is going to make this gal survive - a relationship is the cherry on the top of the cake
Why should I cook for my husband? So he can tell a hooker I make a delicious cake?
Most men live like raisins in a cake of custom.
Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That’s the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it’s snowing, I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.
My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
I want a magical horse that fits in my pocket," Wil said. "And a ring of red amber that gives me power over demons. And an endless supply of cake.
Many mornings I check out the news as soon as I wake up, because if it turns out that the world is coming to an end that day, I am going to eat the frosting off an entire carrot cake; just for a start. Then I will move onto vats of clam dip, pots of crime brûlée, nachos, M & M's etc. Then I will max out both my credit cards.
The thing I've noticed about life is that it just keeps coming at you. And it can be a real bummer. What you need to remember is that you're not alone. You've got friends and family. That's how we get by. We talk and share and eat cake and giggle in the dark, even when we're scared - no, especially when we're scared.
I do not think stress is a legitimate topic of conversation, in public anyway. No one ever wants to hear how stressed out anyone else is, because most of the time everyone is stressed out. Going on and on in detail about how stressed out I am isn’t conversation. It’ll never lead anywhere. No one is going to say, “Wow, Mindy, you really have it especially bad. I have heard some stories of stress, but this just takes the cake.
I'm not going to work for the sake of working. I'll work, if I'm extraordinarily lucky enough to continue having the same opportunities, but it will be based on whatever is there. If there's nothing around, then I'll go home and make carrot cake for awhile.
I've always had as many powerful, creative ladies in my life as I have men, and you could probably describe some of those relationships as romantic. I think everyone's bisexual to some degree or another; it's just a question of whether or not you choose to recognise it and embrace it. Personally, I think choosing between men and women is like choosing between cake and ice cream. You'd be daft not to try both when there are so many different flavours.
You can't say your favorite kind of cake is birthday cake, that's like saying your favorite kind of cereal is breakfast cereal.
What I really do is take real plums and put them in an imaginary cake. If you're interested in the cake, you get rather annoyed with people saying what species the real plum was.
Writing is only the frosting on my cake. Im whole without it.
I make no apology for preoccupying myself with architecture, television, conceptual art, restaurants and Jane Asher's cakes.
The trouble with Clare was, not only that she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, but that she wanted to nibble at the cakes of other folk as well.
The pool was but a stone's throw from the house, and I arrived there in a few minutes, only to find a boy disturbing the water by dredging it with a worm. Him I lured away with a cake of chocolate. . . . Every day I see the head of the largest trout I ever hooked, but did not land.
I was fortunate to sell at a time of great sea change in the romance genre; suddenly heroines were allowed to be portrayed as having rich, fulfilling lives. They didn't need a man for security or self-esteem, but having that one very special man in their lives proved the icing on the cake.
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