As you can taste a pot full of food with a spoon likewise someone's tounge can tell you about his heart.
Telling a butler how to make good tea; Warm the pot first, please, then put two heaping teaspoonfuls in the pot no bags in boiling water, and when it's in, stir it. And when it comes here, I will stir it again.
To talk of comparing the Bible with other "sacred books" so called, such as the Koran...or the book of Mormon, is positively absurd. You might as well compare the sun with a rushlight, or Skiddaw with a molehill, or St. Paul's with an Irish hovel, or the Portland vase with a garden pot, or the Kohinoor diamond with a bit of glass. God seems to have allowed the existence of these pretended revelations, in order to prove the immeasurable superiority of His own Word.
When bad things happen, it's the time when you get to work in the garden and sort out the pots from the weeds.
I'm a recreational pot-smoker. There has never been enough of a distinction between marijuana and other drugs. It's a human rights issue, a censorship issue, and a choice issue.
I don't think [pot] is more dangerous than alcohol.
I'm not a Luddite completely; I believe in refrigerators to cool my martinis, and washing machines because I hate to see women smacking their laundry against a rock. When I hear about hardware, I think of pots and pans, and when I hear about software, I think of sheets and towels.
Mind you, I have had in my sojourn on earth as good a time of it as any man, so I can speak with some knowledge. A writer in the Manchester Guardian who is unknown to me lately described me as "the richest man in the world." That sounds a pretty big order, but when I come to think it out I believe he is not far wrong. A rich man is not necessarily a man with a whole pot of money but a man who is really happy. And I am that.
I'm not saying pot is a bad thing. I know plenty of people who should be smoking pot. I'm just not one of those people. I don't think it would be the best drug for me. What am I going to do, start doing drugs at my age? It's a little late. I'm a mother of two. It's probably not the best idea for me to start getting into it now.
Yes. And release prisoners who are incarcerated for pot.
Crossing the uplands of time, Skirting the borders of night, Scaling the face of the peak of dreams, We enter the region of light, And hastening on with eager intent, Arrive at the rainbow's end, And here uncover the pot of gold Buried deep in the heart of a friend.
I used to say that pot took away from my rent, and now it pays it.
If you want to save yourself the ticket price, go into the kitchen, cue up a male choir singing the music of hell, and get a kid to start banging pots and pans together. Then close your eyes and use your imagination.
See, when I smoked pot it was illegal, but not immoral. Now, it is illegal AND immoral. The law didn't change, only the morality… That's why you get to go to jail and I don't.
If there is any kind of legitimate ostalgia, it's for everything we've never even seen, the women we've never slept with, never dreamed of, the friends we haven't made, the books we've never read, all the food steaming in the pots we've never eaten out of. That's the only real kind of nostalgia there is.
Each of us needs something - food, liquor, pot, whatever - to help us survive. Dracula needs blood.
There's a game out there, and the stakes are high. And the guy who runs it figures the averages all day long and all night long. Once in a while he lets you steal a pot. But if you stay in the game long enough, you've got to lose. And once you've lost there's no way back, no way at all.
I have the utmost respect for those who have come to this country legally and have contributed to the great melting pot that is America today. But those who have crossed our borders illegally have broken the law and the law ought to be enforced.
I have seen, and heard, much of Cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public's face.
When I was an art student in the early 60′s before the acid scene began I was smoking pot just like anyone else who was an artist.
I had always turned it down-to me, smoking pot was absolutely the worst thing in the world. I thought of it as an addiction, and all my friends who smoked it, I felt they really needed help.
Little by little a person becomes evil, as a water pot is filled by drops of water... Little by little a person becomes good, as a water pot is filled by drops of water.
I had a creative hot streak in the 1940s and since then I’ve been pot boiling.
I encouraged the Chinese to support Pol Pot. I encouraged the Thailand|Thai to help the Khmer Rouge. The question was how to help the Cambodian people. Pol Pot was an abomination. We could never support him. But China could.
So deeply is the gardener's instinct implanted in my soul, I really love the tools with which I work; the iron fork, the spade, the hoe, the rake, the trowel, and the watering pot are pleasant objects in my eyes.
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