Kitchen Frames Quotes

Mom." I couldn't believe she was doing this again. She was taking this moment, this time when I was strongest, away from me.

"I don't care what I have to do," she said, her voice low and even. "I don't care if I have to send you away or switch schools. I don't care if I have to follow you twenty-four hours a day, you will not see him, Halley. You will not destroy yourself this way."

"Why are you just assuming I'm going back to him?" I asked her, just as she was drawing in breath to make another point.

"Why don't you ask me what I said to him out there?"

She shut her mouth, caught off guard. "What?"

"Why don't you ever wait a second and see what I'm planning, or thinking, before you burst in with your opinions and ideas? You never even give me a chance."

"Yes, I do," she said indignantly.

"No," I said. "You don't. And then you wonder why I never tell you anyone or share anything with you. I can never trust you with anything or share anything with you. I can never trust you with anything, give you any piece of me without you grabbing it to keep for yourself."

"That's not true," she said slowly, but it was just now hitting her, I could see it. "Halley, you don't always know what's at stake, and I do."

"I will never learn," I said to her slowly, "until you let me."

And so we stood there in the kitchen, my mother and I, facing off over everything that had built up since J ~ Sarah Dessen

Truth is what every man sees lurking at the bottom of his own soul, like the oyster shell housewives put in the kitchen kettle to collect the lime from the water. By and by each man's iridescent oyster shell of Truth becomes coated with the lime of prejudice and hearsay. ~ Christopher Morley

We are not members, . . . we are commodities. . . . When our men have used us up so that we look sixty when we're thirty and our wombs have literally dropped out of our bodies onto our spotless kitchen floors, finished, they turn to our daughters. ~ Miriam Toews

The men on the show have it easy, in part because men on TV have uniforms: There's the jacket, in black, blue, or gray. There's the shirt, the pants. I can never tell whether Tom is gaining or losing weight beneath his boxy suits. He always looks the same. Tom also has the benefit of being Tom, a decorated veteran of the restaurant kitchen. Like so many chefs, he is practiced at the taste-of-this, taste-of-that eating regimen. I'm the one who has to look like a glorified weathergirl, with formfitting dresses and all, which, don't get me wrong, I love - at least until I don't. ~ Padma Lakshmi

Almondine

To her, the scent and the memory of him were one. Where it lay strongest, the distant past came to her as if that morning: Taking a dead sparrow from her jaws, before she knew to hide such things. Guiding her to the floor, bending her knee until the arthritis made it stick, his palm hotsided on her ribs to measure her breaths and know where the pain began. And to comfort her. That had been the week before he went away.

He was gone, she knew this, but something of him clung to the baseboards. At times the floor quivered under his footstep. She stood then and nosed into the kitchen and the bathroom and the bedroom-especially the closet-her intention to press her ruff against his hand, run it along his thigh, feel the heat of his body through the fabric.

Places, times, weather-all these drew him up inside her. Rain, especially, falling past the double doors of the kennel, where he'd waited through so many storms, each drop throwing a dozen replicas into the air as it struck the waterlogged earth. And where the rising and falling water met, something like an expectation formed, a place where he might appear and pass in long strides, silent and gestureless. For she was not without her own selfish desires: to hold things motionless, to measure herself against them and find herself present, to know that she was alive precisely because he needn't acknowledge her in casual passing; that utter constancy might prevail if she attended the world ~ David Wroblewski

. . .Tell me, Clare: why on earth would a lovely girl like you want to marry Henry?'

Everything in the room seems to hold its breath. Henry stiffens but doesn't say anything. I lean forward and smile at Mr. DeTamble and say, with enthusiasm, as though he has asked me what flavor of ice cream I like best: 'Because he's really, really good in bed.' In the kitchen there's a howl of laughter. Mr. DeTamble glances at Henry, who raises his eyebrows and grins, and finally even Mr. DeTamble smiles, and says 'Touché, my dear. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

Running does all the things for me it does for everyone else - clears my head, gives me time to think, makes my body feel good and loose. But it also had the added benefit of taking me places. When I first moved to the city I could only afford to live in Hell's Kitchen, but I wanted to be everywhere. So I ran. ~ Rebecca Serle

I walked down to the village with five Sceltie puppies. I came back to the Hall with four."
"And the fifth ?"
"By now, I'm sure Sylvia has convinced the little bitch to let go of Mikal's trousers. And Mrs Beale promised to send her recipe for puppy biscuits to Sylvia's cook."
"Mrs Beale agreed to share a recipe," Saetan said slowly.
"Mrs Beale agreed that I could pay for ... I'm not sure what it is except that it's something she wanted for the kitchen but couldn't justify as a normal household expense."
"And you agreed to fund this in exchange for a recipe ?"
Daemon stared at his father for a long moment before he muttered, "She sharpened the meat cleaver before coming to talk to me."
One beat of silence. Two. Then Saetan burst out laughing. ~ Anne Bishop

This letter is written on the skin of one of the water sprites who drowned your parents.'
'Ick!' I cried, and dropped the letter on the kitchen table. ~ Charlaine Harris

Carlina felt as if sudden sunshine had filled the kitchen ... [Carlina's reaction to Stefano Garini] ~ Beate Boeker

Our expertise is preparing foods in tough environments. We have a kitchen where we grill and roast and make smelly stuff happen, and then bring it to the site and warm it in a way that makes it taste just-cooked. ~ David Castle

Slowly, his eyes came up and he looked through the kitchen window and out through the Cahuenga Pass. The lights of Hollywood glimmered in the cut, a mirror reflection of the stars of all galaxies everywhere. He thought about all that was bad out there. A city with more things wrong than right. A place where the earth could open up beneath you and suck you into the blackness. A city of lost light. His city. It was all of that and, still, always still, a place to begin again. His city. The city of the second chance.
Bosch nodded and bent down. He closed his eyes, put his hands under the water and brought them up to his face. The water was cold and bracing, as he thought any baptism, the start of any second chance, should be. ~ Michael Connelly

I wish I had another chance to write that school composition, 'What I Did Last Summer.' When I wrote it in fifth grade, I was scared and just recorded: 'It was interesting. It was nice. My summer was fun.' I snuck through with a B grade. But I still wondered, How do you really do that? Now it is obvious. You tell the truth and you depict it in detail: 'My mother dyed her hair red and polished her toenails silver. I was mad for Parcheesi and running the sprinkler catching beetles in a mason jar and feeding them grass. My father sat at the kitchen table a lot staring straight ahead, never talking, a Budweiser in his hand. ~ Natalie Goldberg

As entertaining as it would be to see you run in a screaming conflagration from my kitchen after falling face-first into the fire, I am in no mood to clean it up. ~ Joseph R. Lallo

I snuck through the front door.
Shooing Coop before me, I beelined for the stairs and the safety of my bedroom. I hoped to avoid notice for a few minutes - my clothes were dirty and smoke-tinged, my hair a tangled mess.
But it was not to be. Whitney swung from the kitchen before I could blink.
"Tory!" Smiling brightly, she smoothed her apron with manicured fingers. "I was just about to wonder what you'd gotten up to!"
Whitney winked to assure me she was joking, but the cloying attempt at humor annoyed me anyway. It made me want to actually tell her.
I was out on Loggerhead, fighting with a group of genetic freaks, when a black-ops military attack squad tried to capture me. Oh, and Ben and I made out on his boat. You?
I smothered the suicidal notion. ~ Kathy Reichs

Come on. Let's go up to the kitchen, make some tea. We can try another one of Zia's cupcakes. She made some with chocolate frosting."
Lily froze in her tracks. "I hate it," she burst out. "I'm here, sipping tea and nibbling cupcakes while Bruno's out there? What, should I maybe crochet a white lace doily while I'm at it?"
Tam and Edie exchanged glances.
Tam, spoke, her voice dry. "Shot of bourbon, then? ~ Shannon McKenna

Food is a passion because I basically grew up in a kitchen. My mother was a gourmet chef and I'm the youngest of five kids. We would always congregate in the kitchen. ~ Laura Prepon

I would like to be able to eat food out of this kitchen again," Seth commented. "And actually use the counter to prepare food." "Shut up," Alex growled. "As if you know how to cook food." Seth smirked as he swaggered forward, picking up the forgotten bowl. "I am quite the chef, among other things." Passing a pointed look at Aiden, he leaned against the counter. "Unlike some. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Round, cat-eye frames, wayfarers, and aviators are my go-tos. ~ Georgia May Jagger

Pull open the glass door, feel the rush of cool air, walk inside, get in line, and look around you, look at the kids working in the kitchen, at the customers in their seats, at the ads for the latest toys, study the backlit color photographs above the counter, think about where the food came from, about how and where it was made, about what is set in motion by every single fast food purchase, the ripple effect near and far, think about it. Then place your order. Or turn and walk out the door. It's not too late. Even in this fast food nation, you can still have it your way. ~ Eric Schlosser

In my bachelor days, I had a small upright piano in my kitchen. It cost £10 from eBay plus £70 delivery. It was because I'd seen an old photo of Tom Waits - with dirty dishes, empty bottles, a hot plate, a coffee machine and a piano strewn with lyric sheets - and fallen in love with it. ~ Jamie Cullum

This isn't good."
"What isn't good?" Kelon asked Donovan, coming into the kitchen. He nodded to Lisa standing in front of the stove. She flinched, blushed and then glared at him. He cocked an eyebrow at Donovan. He shrugged. "She's mad because I won't discipline her."
Lisa snorted and stirred the pot of oatmeal on the stove. "Oh please. Like I couldn't get a spanking if I wanted one. ~ Sarah McCarty

Sloth kept him in bed awhile. Restlessness drove him downstairs to the tiny court behind his kitchen, where the sun made more mist. Under its warmth everything gave off ghosts. They work from the bricks, rose with a deep reluctance, disappeared. ~ Denis Johnson

He had been to see Mrs. Erlich just before starting home for the holidays, and found her making German Christmas cakes. She took him into the kitchen and explained the almost holy traditions that governed this complicated cookery. Her excitement and seriousness as she beat and stirred were very pretty, Claude thought. She told off on her fingers the many ingredients, but he believed there were things she did not name: the fragrance of old friendships, the glow of early memories, belief in wonder-working rhymes and songs. ~ Willa Cather

Can I make you some breakfast? Do you like your eggs sunny side up?"
"I'm going to start feeling spoiled if you keep up this grovelling. I've already forgiven you, you know."
"Oh, I'm not grovelling. I'm just making breakfast. I figured since it's your kitchen and all it would only be polite to offer you some. ~ Shawn Kirsten Maravel

Then a door opened into a kitchen nine feet long, situated between the large store-rooms. There electricity, better than gas itself, did all the cooking. ~ Jules Verne

Evans, Evans!" He Cried.
Mrs. Smith was talking aloud to himself, Agnes the servant girl cries to Mrs. Filmer in the kitchen. "Evans, Evans" he had said as she brought in the tray. She jumped, she did. She scuttled downstairs. ~ Virginia Woolf

Years ago, women sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and discussing life. Now they discuss the same topics while they run. ~ Joan Benoit

She'd gone and let her hair loose, he thought. Why did she have to do that? It made his hands hurt, actually hurt with wanting to slide into it.
"That's good." She stepped in, shut the door. And because it seemed too perfect not to, audibly flipped the lock. Seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw was incredibly satisfying.
He was a drowning man, and had just gone under the first time. "Keeley, I've had a long day here.I was just about to-"
"Have a nightcap," she finished. She'd spotted the teapot and the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. "I wouldn't mind one myself." She breezed past him to flip off the burner under the now sputtering kettle.
She'd put on different perfume, he thought viciously. Put it on fresh, too, just to torment him. He was damn sure of it.It snagged his libido like a fish-hook.
"I'm not really fixed for company just now."
"I don't think I qualify as company." Competently she warmed the pot, measured out the tea and poured the boiling water in. "I certainly won't be after we're lovers."
He went under the second time without even the chance to gulp in air. "We're not lovers."
"That's about to change." She set the lid on the pot, turned. "How long do you like it to steep?"
"I like it strong, so it'll take some time. You should go on home now."
"I like it strong, too." Amazing, she thought,she didn't feel nervous at all. "And if it's going to take some time, we can have it afterward."
"This isn't the ~ Nora Roberts

All this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney in the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary, and sometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was accepted he himself should be denied. ~ Ouida

When negative experiences such as having one's house shot at occur in my dad's life he tends to come alive. His confusion lifts. Pieces of life's puzzle fuse into meaning like the continents before that colossal rift. It's entirely logical to him that his house has been shot at and when he's able to spend a minute or two in a world that makes sense he appears almost happy. And when he gets happy he does decisive things like this time he went over to the bulletin board in the kitchen and took down the city bus schedule that we've had up there since Tash left and before the bus depot itself closed down. He put it in the garbage can under the sink. Phew. Done. Goodbye past.


But then I imagined him on a day when shitty things weren't happening and he'd be feeling his usual mystified self and go to the dump and there he would see that little piece of paper with the schedule on it and it would bring him to his knees. Just destroy him for a minute or two and he'd probably pick it up and wipe whatever seagull crap there was on it and straighten it out with the side of his hand and bring it back to the kitchen bulletin board and ARRANGE it on there so you'd know it was the centerpiece of his life. ~ Miriam Toews

Life and I became friends some years ago - not the sort of exciting friendship I longed for as a child, but a kindly truce, a pleasure in coming home every day to my apartment. I have a moment now and then - as I peel an orange and take it from kitchen counter to table - when I feel almost a pang of contentment, perhaps at that raw colour. ~ Elizabeth Kostova

Mine was a patchwork God, sewn together from bits of rag and ribbon, Eastern and Western, pagan and Hebrew, everything but the kitchen sink and Jesus. ~ Anne Lamott

He stepped fully into the house. The air inside was cool on his skin. He turned, expecting the front door to close on its own. But it stayed open, as it was supposed to. He shook his head, chiding himself for letting an old house spook him. He walked into the kitchen. Behind him, the front door slammed shut. ~ Robert Liparulo

The pressure on young chefs today is far greater than ever before in terms of social skills, marketing skills, cooking skills, personality and, more importantly, delivering on the plate. So you need to be strong. Physically fit. So my chefs get weighed every time they come into the kitchen. ~ Gordon Ramsay

In books and movies, people were either whisked away to a magical land in the clothes they were standing up in, or they glossed over the packing part entirely. Simon now felt he had been robbed of critical information by the media. Should he be putting the kitchen knives in his bag? Should he bring the toaster and rig it up as a weapon? ~ Cassandra Clare

Your brain is involved in everything you do.
Your brain controls everything you do, feel, and think. When you look in the
mirror, you can thank your brain for what you see. Ultimately, it is your brain that
determines whether your belly bulges over your belt buckle or your waistline is trim and
toned. Your brain plays the central role in whether your skin looks fresh and dewy or is
etched with wrinkles. Whether you wake up feeling energetic or groggy depends on your
brain. When you head to the kitchen to make breakfast, it is your brain that determines
whether you go for the leftover pizza or the low-fat yogurt and fruit. Your brain controls
whether you hit the gym or sit at the computer to check your Facebook page. If you feel
the need to light up a cigarette or drink a couple cups of java, that's also your brain's
doing.ACTION STEP Remember that your brain is involved in everything you do, every
decision you make, every bite of food you take, every cigarette you smoke, every
worrisome thought you have, every workout you skip, every alcoholic beverage you
drink, and more. ~ Daniel G. Amen

Toward the end of February 1954, James Beard was at work in his Greenwich Village kitchen doing what he most loved to do: cooking delicious meals. ~ Laura Shapiro

In the kitchen, I turn on a TV set that has hundreds of channels devoted to every conceivable subject including celebrity bunion removal (This week: David Hasselhoff). I tune in to one of the literally dozens of news shows, all of which feature a format of 55 percent celebrities promoting things, 30 percent emails from viewers, and 15 percent YouTube videos showing bears jumping on trampolines. While I'm catching up on these developments, I turn on the programmable coffeemaker, which I hope that someday, perhaps by attending community college, I will learn to program. ~ Dave Barry

There's an organic grocery store just off the highway exit. I can't remember the last time I went shopping for food." A smile glittered in his eyes. "I might have gone overboard."
I walked into the kitchen, with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, black granite countertops, and walnut cabinetry. Very masculine, very sleek. I went for the fridge first. Water bottles, spinach and arugula, mushrooms, gingerroot, Gorgonzola and feta cheeses, natural peanut butter, and milk on one side. Hot dogs, cold cuts, Coke, chocolate pudding cups, and canned whipped cream on the other. I tried to picture Patch pushing a shopping cart down the aisle, tossing in food as it pleased him. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

And depression settled over the kitchen like a wet fog. ~ Jeanne Birdsall

I must say that when I first learned of the existence of the Australian Greenhouse Office, I assumed it was responsible for supplying tomatoes to the Parliament House kitchen. But, no, as I soon learnt as industry minister, it was in fact a government funded redoubt of veritable soldiers in a war against carbon dioxide. The zealotry and obsessive passion of these warriors in the battle against the apparent evils of carbon dioxide remains a curiosity to me. After fighting these people for three years as industry minister, I really did wish they would just go away and grow tomatoes. ~ Nick Minchin