Bourdieu Taste Quotes

Anything goes when everyone knows

Where do you hide when their highs are your lows?

So much, so hard, so long, so tired,

Let them eat until you're ground into nothing.

Don't you worry your glossy little lips.

What they savor 'ventually loses it's flavor.

I wanna lick, while you still taste like you.

Bookmark it, says the cheerleader

I promise we'll come back to this spot.

I have shit to do first. You won't wait a lot.

I can't make her stay,

and I can't watch her go.

I'll keep her hellfire heart,

And bookmark it 'fore it goes cold.

Fifty-seven times I didn't call

Fifty-seven letters I didn't send,

Fifty-seven stitches to breathe again, and then I fucking pretend.

Fifty-seven days to not need you

Fifty-seven times to give up on you

Fifty-seven steps away from you,

Fifty-seven nights of nothing but you. ~ Penelope Douglas

Because being a fan is not all about the good times when victory makes life better. Dealing with defeat helps mold you as a fan. If you didn't experience the bitter taste of losing, then you wouldn't have any humility. You wouldn't have a heart. You'd be a New York Yankees fan. ~ Mark Tye Turner

When did other people's happiness start feeling like assault? But the answer comes quickly, and brings a bad taste to my mouth. Always. I didn't ever stop feeling excluded. I just started to wear it and pretend it was my choice. Maybe that's why I was drawn to the law of poisoned things, and hurt people, and scabby chemical earth. Maybe toxic is the only thing I really understand. ~ Krysten Ritter

It was our belief that the love of possessions is a weakness to be overcome ... Children must early learn the beauty of generosity. They are taught to give what they prize most, that they may taste the happiness of giving ... The Indians in their simplicity literally give away all that they have - to relatives, to guests of other tribes or clans, but above all to the poor and the aged, from whom they can hope for no return. ~ Charles Alexander Eastman

Once or twice, at night, he planted himself in front of the type-writer, trying to get back to the book he'd come to New York to write. It was supposed to be about America, and freedom, and the kinship of time to pain, but in order to write about these things, he'd needed experience. Well, be careful what you wish for. For now all he seemed capable of producing was a string of sentences starting, Here was William. Here was William's courage, for example. And here was William's sadness, smallness of stature, size of hands. Here was his laugh in a dark movie theater, his unpunk love of the films of Woody Allen, not for any of the obvious ways they flattered his sensibility, but for something he called their tragic sense, which he compared to Chekhov's (whom Mercer knew he had not read). Here was the way he never asked Mercer about his work; the way he never talked about his own and yet seemed to carry it with him just beneath the skin; the way his skin looked in the sodium light from outside with the light off, with clothes off, in silver rain; the way he embodied qualities Mercer wanted to have, but without ruining them by wanting to have them; the way his genius overflowed its vessel, running off into the drain; the unfinished self-portrait; the hint of some trauma in his past, like the war a shell-shocked town never talks about; his terrible taste in friends; his complete lack of discipline; the inborn incapacity for certain basic things that made you want to mother him, fuc ~ Garth Risk Hallberg

Don't touch me, Nora. (Ewan)
Why? (Nora)
If you touch me, I'll kiss you, and if I kiss you right now, I'm not sure I'll have the strength to pull back and be satisfied with just the taste of your lips. (Ewan) ~ Kinley MacGregor

And the Flatline aligned the nose of Kuang's sting with the center of the dark below. And dove. Case's sensory input warped with their velocity. His mouth filled with an aching taste of blue. His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sounds of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine spines. The spines split, bisected, split again, exponential growth under the dome of the Tessier-Ashpool ice. ~ William Gibson

If he was wood, he was a flail, and I was grain on the threshing floor.
I was a thousand grains, my thoughts blown like chaff. All that was left was the taste of salt. ~ Sarah Micklem

As the index tells us the contents of stories and directs to the particular chapter, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality of the soul; and there cannot be a more evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly blood and breeding than a rude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside. ~ Philip Massinger

Cyrilly expected Sylvia – as an intelligent and ambitious young woman – to walk around pale-mouthed and flat-shoed. She saw intellectual inclinations and a taste for fashion as mutually exclusive and assumed that Sylvia would not mind missing fashion shows to work late in the office. ~ Elizabeth Winder

So he stopped at the first of them, a frigid hothouse whose front tipped forward over the street in defiance of gravity, taste, and ordinance; inside, the tender daytime flowers could be seen huddling in family groups beneath a constant, unseen sun, and behind them was the hermetic door to the dark Cactus Room where the shy nocturnal plants, genus cereus, could bloom in privacy at any hour. Vivien, once out of the car, appeared less constrained. She did not have that stiffness so many have on first entering bars, that air of waiting stubbornly for alcohol to loosen them, which so often presages their manner when it comes' time for bed. She was already excited when the martinis came. ~ Douglas Woolf

O Love, divine Love, why do You lay siege to me?
In a frenzy of love for me, You find no rest.

From five sides You move against me,
Hearing, sight, taste, touch, and scent.
To come out is to be caught; I cannot hide from You.

If I come out through sight I see Love
Painted in every form and color,
Inviting me to come to You, to dwell in You.

If I leave through the door of hearing,
What I hear points only to You, Lord;
I cannot escape Love through this gage.

If I come out through taste, every flavor proclaims:
"Love, divine Love, hungering Love!
You have caught me on Your hook, for you want to reign in me."

If I leave through the door of scent
I sense You in all creation; You have caught me
And wounded me through that fragrance.

If I come out through the sense of touch
I find Your lineaments in every creature;
To try to flee from You is madness.

Love, I flee from You, afraid to give You my heart:
I see that You make me one with You,
I cease to be me and can no longer find myself.

If I see evil in a man or defect or temptation,
You fuse me with him, and make me suffer;
O Love without limits, who is it You love?

It is You, O Crucified Christ,
Who take possession of me,
Drawing me out of the sea to the shore;

There I suffer to see Your wounded heart.
Why did You endure the p ~ Jacopone Da Todi

Johnson ambled over. "Took you sweet time getting here, Malone."
"kiss mine, Johnson."
The other detective grinned. "No thanks, I've got standards."
Quentin hooted at that. The other detective had notoriously bad taste in women. ~ Erica Spindler

My family is delighted every time I cook maitake. Our taste buds awaken in anticipation of its rich, deep and nuanced flavors. ~ Paul Stamets

She had come to that state where the horror of the universe and its smallness are both visible at the same time - the twilight of the double vision in which so many elderly people are involved. If this world is not to our taste, well, at all events, there is Heaven, Hell, Annihilation - one or other of those large things, that huge scenic background of stars, fires, blue or black air. All heroic endeavour, and all that is known as art, assumes that there is such a background, just as all practical endeavour, when the world is to our taste, assumes that the world is all. But in the twilight of the double vision, a spiritual muddledom is set up for which no high-sounding words can be found; we can neither act nor refrain from action, we can neither ignore nor respect Infinity. ~ E. M. Forster

It's going to be legen ... wait for it ... and I hope you're not lactose-intolerant cause the second half of that word is ... dairy! ~ Barney Stinson

Come to earth to taste our sadness, He whose glories knew no end. By His life He brings us gladness, our Redeemer, Shepherd, Friend. Leaving riches without number, born within a cattle stall. This, the everlasting wonder, Christ was born the Lord of all. ~ Charles Wesley

It's easy to be bold in the moment, because all you have is what you can process: see, smell, feel, taste. And that's a very small amount of what is. But afterward, when everything decompresses and uncoils bit by bit, and the horror of what you did and what happened to your friends hits you. It's overwhelming. That's the curse of this naval war. You fight, then spend months waiting, engaged only by the tedium of routine. Then you fight again. I ~ Pierce Brown

Me? I stand for uncertainty, insecurity, bad taste, fun, and things that go boom in the night. ~ Tom Robbins

A city is a state - of mind, of taste, of opportunity. A city is a marketplace - where ideas are traded, opinions clash and eternal conflict may produce eternal truths. ~ Herb Caen

We cannot by a little verbal sophistry confound the qualities of different minds, nor force opposite excellences into a union by all the intolerance in the world ... If we have a taste for some one precise style or manner, we may keep it to ourselves and let others have theirs. If we are more catholic in our notions, and want variety of excellence and beauty, it is spread abroad for us to profusion in the variety of books and in the several growth of men's minds, fettered by no capricious or arbitrary rules. ~ William Hazlitt

I make an awesome soup with coconut milk and shrimps; it takes me five hours to prepare the whole thing. It does become very spicy, but you can definitely taste all the ingredients. ~ Mads Mikkelsen

The long history of this idea before Kant made it the basis of his Critique of Judgment shows that the concept of taste was originally more a moral than an aesthetic idea. ~ Hans-Georg Gadamer

When we have experienced but a taste of His grandeur and glory, the only legitimate response is abandoned worship. ~ Anna Blanc

The body's weakness comes from illnesses, while the heart's weakness comes from sins. And just as the body does not taste the delights of food when it is ill, the heart does not taste the delights of worship when it is sinful. ~ Dhul-Nun Al-Misri

Beau's gaze made my cheeks flush. A pleased grin touched his lips and I suddenly wanted to know how those lips would feel pressed against mine. I couldn't take my eyes off them. Even when his smile vanished I continued staring at his mouth.
"You're gonna have to stop doing that Ash," Beau whispered huskily and closed the space between us. His body was suddenly pressed against mine. I managed to shake my fascination with his lips and gaze up into his eyes. He was staring down at me with a hungry gleam I wasn't accustomed to seeing. But I liked it. I liked it a lot.
"Ash, I'm trying real hard to be good. Good isn't my thing but Sawyers important to me. Please remember I've got limits and you studying my mouth like you want a taste is pushing me dangerously close to the edge of those limits. ~ Abbi Glines

We find beauty in poison, and we love the bitter taste. ~ Cole McCade

Jobs had always been an extremely opinionated eater, with a tendency to instantly judge any food as either fantastic or terrible. He could taste two avocados that most mortals would find indistinguishable, and declare that one was the best avocado ever grown and the other inedible. ~ Walter Isaacson

He had just reached the pavement and gave now the smallest, quickest of glances back up the hill, in our direction. Our eyes didn't meet, but I saw that he was even more beautiful than I had supposed. Even more beautiful than I had ever imagined it was possible to imagine imagining beauty. Beautiful in a way that made me realise that I had never even known before what beautiful really meant: not in people, nature, taste or sound. ~ Stephen Fry

But desire must also be cultivated; the beautiful does not always immediately commend itself to every taste; Christ's beauty, like that of Isaiah's suffering servant, is not expressed in vacuous comeliness or shadowless glamor, but calls for a love that is charitable, that is not dismayed by distance or mystery, and that can repent of its failure to see; this is to acquire what Augustine calls a taste for the beauty of God (Soliloquia 1.3-14). Once this taste is learned, divine beauty, as Gregory of Nyssa says, inflames desire, drawing one on into an endless epektasis, a stretching out toward an ever greater embrace of divine glory. And, ~ David Bentley Hart

I had gotten so used to the taste of rain that I forgot what the sun tasted like. Bittersweet. ~ Ana Patrick

I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things. ~ Tori Amos