Eli Brown Quotes

Some foods are so comforting, so nourishing of body and soul, that to eat them is to be home again after a long journey. To eat such a meal is to remember that, though the world is full of knives and storms, the body is built for kindness. The angels, who know no hunger, have never been as satisfied.

It matters not what language a man speaks; he holds a pen, he holds a plow, he holds a gun in exactly the same manner. We are all children of our tools.

After dessert we sipped on strong cups of tea, one of the luxuries we can afford to take for granted here in the trade routes.
"Delightful," she said. "If only for a little cream."
"Don't speak to me of cream, Captain. I dream about milk at least twice a week. I run naked with milk running in rivulets from the corners of my mouth. I even miss humble parsley
zounds, how I've taken that weed for granted! And butter, I'll not describe my butter dreams, they're too depraved."
Mabbot chuckled. "We must leave something for dreams.

I now have some intimacy with death, and like the hops in a beer, it has both embittered and fortified me.

I write here all I can, yet cannot express the fatigue I collapse under each night, worn to the bone with worry. I feel Hope and Fear beside me all the time, two woodsmen with a saw across my middle. They pull the saw in turns. It is everything I can do not to fall in two.

The proper way is lost to me; my compass spins. I therefore give my entire attention to those works that seem to me most incorruptible: the application of heat, the proportion of seasoning, the arrangement of a plate. When robbed of all pretensions and aspirations, with no proper home nor any knowledge of what discord tomorrow brings, I still may have a pocketful of dignity. The Roman pomp and raiment have fallen away, and I see at last the glory of washed feet and shared bread.

We are surrounded by monsters," she said. "We can cower before them or we can pick one and sink our teeth in with the aim to give it hell.

Is this spirited man the cook?" she shouted. "Are you responsible for this delightful feast? What a piece of luck! ... What is it you say, Mr. Apples?"
"Like shittin' with the pope."
"No, the other thing, less vulgar."
"Whistlin' donkey."
"Quite! A surprise and a delight like a whistling ... How is it that these phrases make sense when you say them? Anyway, bring him along.

Men who long for the past are already dead. Look to the future, Owen.

Never have I seen such a motley assemblage of characters. Except that we are at sea, I would believe that I had been abducted by a traveling circus. There are men here of every hue and size, also men whose race cannot be determined due to the indigo tattoos that cover their faces and arms. There are men with bullrings through their noses, with turbans large enough to hide a samovar, with gold thread braided into their hair, with scimitars lashed to their hips; some with teeth sharpened to points, some with no teeth at all. Many of the men have lost fingers, one has no ears, and not a few of them sport blistered patches upon their faces, necks, and forearms.

It is no great secret that cooking is, in essence, seduction.

Such is the indomitable spirit of saffron that even after years stale on my chest, it brought the rice to life with flavor and the color of a sunset. Or perhaps my wife leaned down and touched my efforts with a kettle-blessing to keep me safe.

He who writes our every story needs no annotation from me.

As it ferments, kraut whispers alchemical secrets. In two days, it will smell as agreeable as an old pillow still warm from night's use. In five days it will smell like a horse run to foam. The odor will then lessen as the vegetable begins its tart transformation. It will be good to eat in two weeks, but at five weeks it will reach the zenith of its power, its taste a violin bow drawn across the tongue. After six weeks it will err slowly toward slime. Like hams and men, it gets better with age only to a point.

Dear Mr. Wedgewood,
Welcome to the Flying Rose. I hope you have settled to sea comfortably. Your lot may improve in direct proportion to your willingness. I do look forward to more of your fare. Let me lay out my proposal: You will, of a Sunday, cook for me, and me alone, the finest supper. You will neither repeat a dish nor serve foods that are in the slightest degree mundane. In return I will continue to keep you alive and well, and we may discuss an improvement of your quarters after a time. Should you balk in any fashion you will find yourself swimming home, whole or in pieces, depending upon the severity of my disappointment. How does this strike you?
In anticipation,
Capt. Hannah Mabbot

I saw a man whose suffering had become a kind of skeleton holding him upright.

The ocean, whose essence is fluid and unresisting, is more prison than the staunchest bricks or iron bars.

I may not be skilled at eloquent oratory , but for muttering angrily under one's breath, I have never met a more capable man.