I have less time, less tolerance for bullshit, more interest in good taste, more confidence in my own judgement. The culture with which I surround myself is a reflection of my personality and the circumstances of my life, which is in part how it should be.
The idea that women journalists bring a different taste in stories or sensibility isnt true.
People wince when something is in bad taste. They laugh when it's funny. If it's too dirty or wrong, they won't laugh. But if it's a big, dirty, smart, funny laugh, they love it.
I will never permit myself to give in to American taste and lower the standards of art.
Money is an acquired taste. But, once acquired, it becomes an addiction.
I love eating out. I don't deny that. But I don't want 12 or 15 courses because the chef wants me to taste this or taste that. I just want to be able to decide.
Say someone tells me their name - that name can turn into a taste or a color and that's how I categorize it in my mind. It's an easy way of categorizing things.
I heard 'Get Lucky'; it's just not my taste. It's great what Daft Punk does and the sound quality is great, but that whole disco vibe is not really my thing.
I have a very varied taste in music. Everything from rap to classical to Latino to Rat Pack to jazz.
Most fast food is fried. Fried food tastes great, and people dont seem to care about the fat aspect.
The richness of the world, all artificial pleasures, have the taste of sickness and give off a smell of death in the face of certain spiritual possessions.
As a child, the person I admired most in the world was Lana Turner! She seemed the epitome of glamour, and her glitzy surroundings so enviable, the opposite of my mother's extremely banal taste.
It is high time to compel man by the might of right to give woman her political, legal and social rights. She will find her own sphere in accordance with her capacities, powers and tastes; and yet she will be woman still.
There are times when the voice of repining is completely drowned out by various louder voices: the voice of government, the voice of taste, the voice of celebrity, the voice of the real world, the voice of fear and force, the voice of gossip.
A lot of crime fiction writing is also lazy. Personality is supposed to be shown by the protagonists taste in music, or were told that the hero looks like the young Cary Grant. Film is the medium these writers are looking for.
Rosanne Daryl Thomas's tale of her enchantment by bees is a delight to read. It also contains close observations of the natural world, tales of failure and triumph with the hives, and a stellar cast of characters that includes her daughter, their cats, the hapless Farmer Tom, Pete the crossing guard, and, most important, the Bee Master. Every word tastes sweet as honey.
I want to tell you what it was really like to think death is imminent, but I can't. It's a taste in your mouth. And an emptiness.
The Secretary, working in the Dismal Swamp betimes next morning, was informed that a youth waited in the hall who gave the name of Sloppy. The footman who communicated this intelligence made a decent pause before uttering the name, to express that it was forced on his reluctance by the youth in question, and that if the youth had had the good sense and good taste to inherit some other name it would have spared the feelings of him the bearer.
We're born with the desire, but we don't really know how to choose. We don't know what our taste is, and we don't know what we are seeing.
Perhaps you see, therefore, why I think taste must come before nutrition? Our infatuation for the quasi-scientific has left us easy marks for con men and tin fiddle manufacturers.
Defining yourself by your taste is easier than defining yourself by any genuine stance on something.
Taste is only to be educated by contemplation, not of the tolerably good but of the truly excellent.
It is our taste that decides against Christianity now, no longer our reasons.
And you tell me, friends, that there is no disputing taste and tasting? But all life is a dispute over taste and tasting!
Science rushes headlong, without selectivity, without "taste," at whatever is knowable, in the blind desire to know all at any cost.
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