Beat And Eat Quotes & Sayings

When I'm feeling down on myself or not feeling good about who I am, or maybe something happened and I'm feeling depressed, I eat to fill that void. Afterwards I'll beat myself up about it. I regret doing it, but I'll turn around and do it again. — Janet Jackson

Hell, a pig had most humans beat, smarter than small children, and we didn't eat those but maybe we should. — Kelly J. Cogswell

Stop making such a big deal about lard. It is no less healthy than other fats, and it is more delicious. Nothing makes as flaky or as delicious biscuits or piecrust as ones made with part lard. And there is simply nothing better for frying. You eat the rest of the animal (including parts that are likely much more offensive), so buy a tub of fresh lard to keep in your refrigerator. Use it and be proud that you are working to bust a stupid stigma about a completely natural ingredient. Don't engage the lard enemies, as more often than not, they have no fucking idea what they are talking about. Go beat your head against a wall instead. You'll end up happier. — John Currence

Shawshank's good," he says. "But you can't beat the way Woody Harrelson kills zombies. He takes such joy in it."
"Uh-huh," I say, making a face. "I've always found zombies to be the least threatening of the scary monsters. I mean, come on. They're slow. They're brain-dead. They don't plot evil or try to take over the world. They just - " I put my arms out in front of me and give him my best zombie groan. I shake my head. "So not scary."
"But they just. Keep. Coming," Christian says. "You can run, you can kill them, but more of them always pop up, and they never stop." He shudders. "And they try to eat you, and if you get bitten, that's it - you're infected. You're doomed to become a zombie yourself. End of story."
"Okay," I concede, "they're kind of scary," and now I'm vaguely disappointed that we're not here to watch a zombie movie. — Cynthia Hand

Dan didn't know how violently he was biting. Just the absolute closeness. Once upon a time he'd hated that body, smashed it, kicked it, beat it into a bleeding pulp, but now he wanted to crawl into it, or kill it, and maim it, to possess it, eat, tear, destroy it, to take it and never leave it again.
His. The body was his, the man was his. His, his, his alone! — Marquesate

Have you ever seen a rabbit go to a pharmacy, a hospital, or a mental asylum?" he asks rhetorically. "They don't look for medicine, they heal themselves or die. Humans aren't so simple; they've let technology get in the way of who they really are." It's an idea that I've thought a lot about, and one that doesn't always sit comfortably. Yes the modern world has its drawbacks, but nature can also be brutal. So I interrupt the budding diatribe. "But rabbits get eaten by wolves," I say. Hof doesn't skip a beat at my interjection. "Yes, they know fight and flight. The wolf chases them and they die. But everything dies one day. It is just that in our case we aren't eaten by wolves. Instead, without predators, we're being eaten by cancer, by diabetes, and our own immune systems. There's no wolf to run from, so our bodies eat themselves. — Scott Carney

You're already using your imagination because you're watching fiction and then you're trying to believe that this girl who weighs 100 lbs, soaking wet, could actually beat up a guy. Which works in a lot of situations but in a lot of situations you look at it and you're like, "Come on. Could you please get someone in there who actually has biceps and not just because they don't eat?" — Katee Sackhoff

I try to be active five to six times a week, and I keep very healthy, but I don't beat myself up on a bad day. If you're working fourteen hours on a set and you need to eat five protein bars, then you just do that. I keep it a regular and normal part of my life as [much as] I can. — Rhea Seehorn

The madman bum and angel beat in time with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years — Allen Ginsberg

And it was funny. The silence of him had a bizarre effect on her. Normally, she was the quiet one in situations, preferring to keep her own council and not share her thoughts on anything. But with John's mute presence, she felt curiously compelled to talk.
"I'm stuffed," she said, lying back against the pillows. As he cocked a brow and lifted the last Danish, she shook her head.
"God ... no. I couldn't manage another thing."
And it was only then that he began to eat.
"You waited for me ?" she said, frowning. When he ducked her gaze and shrugged, she cursed softly.
" You didn't have to."
Another shrug. As she watched him, she murmured, "You have beautiful table manners."
His blush was the color of Valentine's Day and she had to tell her heart to calm the fuck down as it started to beat fast. — J.R. Ward

Economy is the bone, politics is the flesh,
watch who they beat and who they eat. — Marge Piercy

You can't go over every beat, every second, and worry about how you can do it better - it'll eat you alive. — William Sanderson

She glared down at the pan. And then she kicked it. The first kick sent it tumbling a couple of feet; something black and gooey came out. The second kick got better distance, maybe because it wasn't as heavy now. Evidently unsatisfied, she advanced on one of the pickups and grabbed a hammer from the back. Going down on one knee, she swung the hammer for all she was worth and beat the hell out of that pan, then she got up and kicked it one more time for good measure.
"Damn," Walt muttered. "I'm not ever going to say a single bad thing about her cooking.
"Yeah," Eli muttered in return. "No matter what it is, I'll eat it or die. Even that cake."
"More like, eat it and die," Patrick put in. — Linda Howard

Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears, ... — Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mama," Bubba said as he came out of the back. "I can't beat up everyone in the world for being stupid. Have you seen how many of them are out there? I work retail. Trust me. The world's eat up with it. And aren't you the one that's always saying, 'you can't fix stupid, son so don't try?' Besides, I got better things to do with my time than fight every idiot I come into contat with. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Hope can give you wings, persistence, and energy. If you're out of work, and want to stay upbeat, then
greet the sunrise, go for a walk, count your blessings, listen to beautiful music, drink more water than
usual, eat simpler, exercise more, laugh with your family and friends, watch cartoons, take naps in the
daytime if you can't sleep well at night, but for heaven's sakes, don't obsess about depressing statistics.
Just determine to find alternatives for everything you are doing about your job-hunt and your life. You
want to be the exception to whatever the odds are, about anything. Hold on to Hope, and you can beat
those odds. — Richard N. Bolles

If he killed her I'm going to beat him bloody and eat him piece by piece, slowly, with steak sauce. — Karen Marie Moning

I wake up, eat, make a beat. Play Xbox, make another beat and go to bed. Occasionally do something. I rarely party. — Boi-1da

I have just drunk the waters of Changsha
And come to eat the fish of Wuchang.
Now I am swimming across the great Yangtze,
Looking afar to the open sky of Chu.
Let the wind blow and waves beat,
Better far than idly strolling in a courtyard.
Today I am at ease.
"It was by a stream that the Master said--
'Thus do things flow away!' "
Sails move with the wind.
Tortoise and Snake are still.
Great plans are afoot:
A bridge will fly to span the north and south,
Turning a deep chasm into a thoroughfare;
Walls of stone will stand upstream to the west
To hold back Wushan's clouds and rain
Till a smooth lake rises in the narrow gorges.
The mountain goddess if she is still there
Will marvel at a world so changed. — Mao Zedong

What gives a wriggle
And makes you giggle
When you eat'em?
Whose weensy little feet
Make my heart really beat?
Why, it's those little creepy crawlies
That make me feel so jolly.
For the darling centipede
My favorite buggy feed
I always want some more.
That's the insect I adore
More than beetles, more than crickets,
Which at times gives me the hiccups.
I crave only to feed
On a juicy centipede
And I shall be happy forevermore.
-Soren — Kathryn Lasky

If I knew you were going to die, I'd make your last moment on earth last forever. I'd take you to the Eiffel Tower in Paris and make sure that you have the most romantic dinner your life. I'd fill your room with hundreds of wild sunflowers, so that even in death, you may carry the scent of something beautiful. If you were to die I'd make sure to drag you through an amusement park and ride all the crazy rides with you, eat all that ice cream with you, win all those stuffed animals for you.
If you were to die, I'd beat up every single person in the world who has ever hurt you. I'd protect you with my life. I'll protect you with everything I own, everything I have, everything I can give. If I knew you were going to die, I'd cut out my own heart for you. I'd cut it out so you could have it. So that you could live. Because I sure as hell can't live without you. — Anonymous

Bandaged. The wound is mortal and yet you do not die. That is its own impossible agony. But grief is not simple sadness. Sadness is a feeling that wants nothing more than to be sat with, held, and heard. Grief is a journey. It must be moved through. With a rucksack full of rocks, you hike through a black, pathless forest, brambles about your legs and wolf packs at your heels. The grief that never moves is called complicated grief. It doesn't subside, you do not accept it, and it never - it never - goes to sleep. This is possessive grief. This is delusional grief. This is hysterical grief. Run if you will, this grief is faster. This is the grief that will chase you and beat you. This is the grief that will eat you. — Jill Alexander Essbaum

Having a rough time on the trail is not the same as the irredeemable frustrations of urban life, such as being stuck in traffic or wading through a crowded store. Difficulty on the trail, like this long and rainy day, is usually reflected upon fondly. There is the soothing, rhythmic beat of rainfall, the feeling that the woods are being washed and rejuvenated, the odors of the woods awakened by moisture. There is appreciation for the most simple of things, such as a flat and dry piece of ground and something warm to eat. There is satisfaction in having endured hardship, pride in being able to do for myself in the outdoors. There is strength in knowing I can do it again tomorrow. — David Miller

Heaven and happiness do not exist. That is your parents' way to justify the crime of having brought you into this world. What exists is reality, the tough reality, this slaughterhouse we've come to die in, if not to kill and to eat the animals, our fellow creatures. Therefore, do not reproduce, do not repeat the crimes committed against you, do not give back the same, evil paid with evil, as imposing life is the ultimate crime. Do not disturb the unborn, let them be in the peace of nothingness. Anyway we'll all eventually go back there, so why beat around the bush? — Fernando Vallejo

Once upon a time, Dan had hated that body, smashed it, kicked it, beat it into a bleeding pulp, but now he wanted to crawl into it, or kill it and maim it, to possess it, eat, tear, destroy it and never leave it again. — Aleksandr Voinov

There's a note on the door: "Dear kind person, Please don't look for valuables here. We never had any. Use whatever you want, but don't trash the place. We'll be back." I saw signs on other houses in different colors - "Dear house, forgive us!" People said goodbye to their homes like they were people. Or they'd written: "we're leaving in the morning," or, "we're leaving at night," and they'd put the date and even the time. There were notes written on school notebook paper: "Don't beat the cat. Otherwise the rats will eat everything." And then in a child's handwriting: "Don't kill our Zhulka. She's a good cat." [Closes his eyes.] — Svetlana Alexievich

Be that as it may, we do need you in particular to complete this assignment. (Syd)
What is it with you government assholes that you just can't say anything in plain English? You always have to beat around the bush and use euphemisms or fucked-up acronyms for everything. (Steele)
Fine. We need you to kill an assassin before he executes his target. Either you eat the bear, or the bear eats you, Mr. Steele. Or, to humor you, in plain English- you find and kill the assassin, or we kill you. End of story. (Syd) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Beat him, eat him and get out. — Richard Price

I eat a catfish sandwich
with onions and red sauce
20c. (Havana 1953) — Allen Ginsberg

How in the world can a poor man eat? Pray for the sunshine, 'cause it will rain. Things gettin' worse, drivin' all insane; Built a nice bar, painted it brown; Lightnin' came along and burnt it down: No use talkin', any man's beat, With 'leven cent cotton and forty cent meat. 'Leven cent cotton, a car-load of tax, The load's too heavy for our poor backs — Kurt Vonnegut

At the morgue, people were so desensitized that they would eat lunch in the glass walled room adjacent to the autopsy room. A viewing room. Because it had the best air conditioning in the building. So they would eat in there and maybe somebody would come in who had been found after being dead for three days and they would say: That is the exact purple I want for those drapes in the study. They didn't miss a beat. They could eat through anything. — David Sedaris

Tis true what Hemingway says--if we're lucky enough to live our dreams in youth, as Ernest Hemingway did in 1920's Paris and I did with the Beat poets, then youth's dreams become a moveable feast you take wherever you go--youthful love remains the repast plentiful; exquisite, substantive and good. You can live on happy memories. Eat of them forever. — Alison Winfield Burns

I ordered a coffee and a little something to eat and savored the warmth and dryness. Somewhere in the background Nat King Cole sang a perky tune. I watched the rain beat down on the road outside and told myself that one day this would be twenty years ago. — Bill Bryson

I rolled my eyes as the elevator door opened. 'I was thinking more along the lines of Tick and Tock. You know they won't
'
'Holy shit, boss! Did you beat him up with your mouth?' Tick exclaimed loudly as he stood from his perch near the elevator doors.
'
keep their mouths shut,' I muttered.
'Jesus,' Tock whispered. 'Gay sex is hardcore.' He jumped up and stood next to me, not knowing what personal space meant. 'I think he was trying to eat you,' he told me.
'Or something,' I agreed. — T.J. Klune

she saw all those who were in the pickup truck with her husband. Their clothes were torn. Their hands and faces were covered in blood and dust. They looked as shell-shocked as they felt. What's more, they were hungry and thirsty and exhausted and grieving their families and friends and the town they had left behind. "I heard, on the wireless," Claire said without missing a beat. "It's all anyone is talking about. Thank God you're okay. Come in. All of you, please come in. We will get you something to eat and give you a place to sleep and a hot bath. Come in; don't be shy. You're with friends here. — Joel C. Rosenberg

It took time for the church to come to terms with the ignominy of the cross. Church fathers forbade its depiction in art until the reign of the Roman emperor Constantine ... Now, though, the symbol is everywhere: artists beat gold into the shape of the Roman execution device, baseball players cross themselves before batting, and cancy confectioners even make chocolate crosses for the faithful to eat during Holy Week. Strange as it may seem, Christianity has become a religion of the cross
the gallows, the electric chair, the gas chamber, in modern terms. — Philip Yancey

MC's they retreat cause they know I can beat 'em,
And eat 'em in a battle and the ref won't cheat 'em.
I'm the best takin' out all rookies,
So forget Oreos ... eat Cool J cookies. — LL Cool J

If Christians realized that God Himself in the person of the Holy Spirit really dwells within our bodies, we would be far more careful about what we eat, drink, look at, or read. No wonder Paul said, "I beat my body and make it my slave" [1 Corinthians 9:27 NIV]. This should drive us to our knees in confession. — Billy Graham