Restaurant Name In Quotes & Sayings

I think something must happen to you when you get into eight grade. Like the Doug Swieteck's Brother Gene switches on and you become a jerk.
Which may have been Hamlet, Prince of Denmark's problem, who, besides having a name that makes him sound like a breakfast special at Sunnyside Morning Restaurant
something between a ham slice and a three-egg omelet
didn't have the smarts to figure out that when someone takes the trouble to come back from beyond the grave to tell you that he's been murdered, it's probably behooveful to pay attention
which is the adjectival form. — Gary D. Schmidt

What is Valentines? Is it a restaurant name? — Yoseob

I'd been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I'd even known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven. — Denis Johnson

Connor pockets his cell. "Lily," he says. "If I wanted to date for a last name, I'd have a girl on my arm every single day. I would never be single." He leans forward. "I promise you, that my intentions are pure. And I think it's sweet you're looking out for Rose, but she's more than capable of taking care of herself, which is one of the many reasons why I want to pursue her." "What's another reason?" I test him. He smiles. "I won't have to taxingly explain to her menu items in a real French restaurant." He knows she's fluent? "I won't have to explain financial statements or dividends. I'll be able to discuss anything and everything in the world, and she'll have an answer. — Krista Ritchie

Darn! what a beautiful night!
Heading towards Pandara Road-Gulati Restaurant, with open windows of my baby sedan and this broad chest guy with big brown eyes.
He hums the oldies well and his Issey Miyake is making me lose the grip over my senses.
One more thing is distracting me, he ain't wearing anything inside but a transparent white, V necked, cotton short Kurta.
I can see the hair winking out and his collar bones!!
Not only men get excited by transparent dresses but women as well.
His broad shoulders and chest is my weakness and he knows it.
This man is not doing good to me!
It's a crime to seduce in this way, when you are not touched, when you are distracted by the aroma of his skin, when you know, he is well aware of the intentions..
when you can't do anything except getting seduced by the corner stretching smile of a man with animal instinct..
I certainly am missing myself to be tied up to the bedpost,choked and groaning his name! — Himmilicious

Hello, my name is Lisa Jakub. But most people in a restaurant/dentist's office/yoga studio dressing room, call me 'Hey, you look like that girl from 'Mrs. Doubtfire'/'Independence Day'/'Rambling Rose.' There is a good reason for that. I am that girl. More accurately, I was that girl. — Lisa Jakub

From Woody's Restaurant, Middlebury"


Today, noon, a young macho friendly waiter and three diners,
business types - two males, one female -
are in a quandary about the name of the duck paddling
Otter Creek,
the duck being brown, but too large to be a female mallard.
They really want to know, and I'm the human-watcher behind the nook
of my table,
camouflaged by my stillness and nonchalant plumage.
They really want to know.
This sighting I record in the back of my Field Guide to People. — Greg Delanty

Here," Trey says, fumbling for his cell phone on the bedside table. "You should call me.
Ben turns and looks at him, a small smile still playing around his lips. "Oh, should I? What's your number?"
Trey tells him, and Ben enters it into is phone, and then he takes Trey's and enters his number. "Okay," Ben says a little cautiously, "well, we'd love to have you come for a meeting. Are you seriously considering U of C? Even after what happened?"
"Oh yeah. I totally am. "What's your name again?"
Ben laughs and tells him.
I frown. Trey knows U of C is a private school. Mucho big bucks. But hey ... there's always the power of morphine to make you forget about the minor details of your life, like living above a restaurant that struggles monthly to pay bills, and considering returning to the place where some lunatic outsider came in and fucking shot you because you're gay. — Lisa McMann

one night, they went down to the Village for dinner at an italian restaurant. most of the band had picked up young girls and had them hanging on their arms. janis was feeling lonesome and said, "goddamn, you guys have all these groupies and i don't have anybody."

turning to mark, the youngest person in the crowd, she ordered, "go out on the street there and find the first pretty boy you see and bring him to me."

aw, i dunno," mark said.

go ahead," janis said.

after a while, mark returned with a handsome, long-haired youth with a british accent. he was wearing a floor-length embroidered afghan wool coat. looking him over, janis nodded approvingly and said, "he's cute, mark!" turning to the young man, she said, "well! hi, honey! sit down! my name's janis joplin. have you ever heard of me?"

yeah," he said, "i've heard of you."

oh," she said, "what's your name?"

eric clapton. — Ellis Amburn

You don't like my restaurant, Miss Connor?"
"I couldn't say since the waiting list to get in is six months long."
One side of his mouth curved up. "This is true."
His finger lingered, and I tried to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. "I think you can call me by my first name now, seeing as how you're touching my boob. That puts us a little past formality, don't you think? — Jenny Lyn

We both are a pejorative - liberals. Spartak, I believe an active and powerful government is the only counterbalance against rapacious business interests, unprincipled individuals and groups often all too willing to deceive, poison, and ruin in the name of their own liberty. Without us, the powerful face no limits, no scrutiny, pay no price and never face justice. My life's work is to return integrity and influence to the public sphere. I wear barronial scorn with pride." He shook his head. "Of course most people think I'm a fool."

U.S. Supreme Court Justice William O. Washington
Speaking to his niece and then Spartak Jones in a restaurant named after author Ayn Rand, San Francisco, in the year 2115
The Chronicles of Spartak - Rising Son, a novel — Steven A. Coulter

Do you want me to drive you home? Because I was thinking of taking you somewhere else first, if you're interested."

My curiosity is piqued. "Where?"

His blue eyes twinkle mischievously. "It's a surprise."

"A good surprise?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"Um, yeah. I can think of a hundred bad surprises off the top of my head."

"Name one," he challenges.

"Okay - you're set up on a blind date, and you show up at the restaurant and Ted Bundy is sitting at the table."

Logan grins at me. "Bundy is your go-to answer for everything, huh?"

"It appears so."

"Fine. Well, point taken. And I promise, it's a good surprise. Or in the very least, it's neutral."

"All right. Surprise away then. — Elle Kennedy

When I was writing my column, I would almost always be recognized when I was in a restaurant, even if I was reviewing it and had booked under a fake name, so free stuff would start coming out of the kitchen on a conveyer belt, fantastic wines would be opened at my table. Now I can't even get a reservation on the pizza joint on the corner. — Toby Young

Leander was supposed to go to London with both of the Shockings. In the end, Mrs. Schocking declined but insisted that the men go as planned. Basil chose the restaurant for the evening, but kept its name and location shrouded in secrecy. All Leander knew was to dress for dinner and that Basil promised a good time. — Dean Frech

The Robaccio Restaurant was one of those places that sounded like a nice Italian trattoria--and it was. The funny thing about the place was the name: a blend of two Italian words. The word "robaccia" meant "trash" in Italian and "bacio" was "kiss." Putting the two words together was like naming a British pub the Rubbish Smooch, which someone in London really needs to do. — Michael Darling

I had no idea the Monkey Bar meat loaf was going to have my name on it, but when the restaurant opened, there it was, on the menu, Nora's Meat Loaf. I felt that I had to order it, out of loyalty to myself, and it was exactly as good as it had been at the tasting. I was delighted. What's more, I had the oddest sense of accomplishment. I somehow felt I'd created this meat loaf, even though I'd had nothing to do with it. I'd always envied Nellie Melba for her peach, Princess Margherita for her pizza, and Reuben for his sandwich, and now I was sort of one of them. Nora's Meat Loaf. It was something to remember me by. It wasn't exactly what I was thinking of back in the day when we used to play a game called "If you could have something named after you, what would it be?" In that period, I'd hoped for a dance step, or a pair of pants. But I was older now, and I was willing to settle for a meat loaf. — Nora Ephron

He was a manager, one of the singers, I guess talent coordinator for the local talent in Harlem. His name was Lover Patterson. He was living right across the street from where my dad had his restaurant. I guess he saw a lot of kids come in, a lot of my buddies. — Ben E. King

Have a seat in a liberal restaurant, and you're assaulted with all sorts of rules and information. No substitutions. Everything organic. They'll tell you the name of the farm the lettuce comes from, the variety of tomato in the salad, and probably even the name of the hardworking chicken who donated the eggs. But they won't ask you how you want your steak. They won't ask you anything, actually. At liberal restaurants, they tell you what you're going to have. — Michael Gallagher

One year, I was a patron of a new opera. It was, to put it kindly, unpleasant to the ear. The friends I went with hated it. Keeping quiet about my contribution, I was outed when one of them, reading the program at the restaurant during dinner, saw my name. — Karen DeCrow

The day after I turn pro, Philly gets a call from Nike. They want to meet with me about an endorsement deal. Philly and I meet the Nike man in Newport beach, at a restaurant called the Rusty Pelican. His name is Ian Hamilton.
I call him Mr. Hamilton, but he says I should call him Ian. He smiles in a way that makes me trust him instantly. Philly, however, remains wary.
Boys, Ian says, I think Andre has a very bright future.
Thank you.
I'd like Nike to be a part of that future, to be a partner in that future.
Thank you.
I'd like to offer you a two-year contract.
Thank you.
During which time Nike will provide all your gear, and pay you $20,ooo.
For both years?
For eacvh year.
Ah.
Philly jumps in. What would Andre have to do in exchange for this money?
Ian looks confused. Well, he says, Andre would have to do what Andre has been doing, son. Keep being Andre. And wear Nike stuff. — Andre Agassi

You want me to be your spy in a game of restaurant espionage? Will I need a code name?"
"It's nothing morally reprehensible or anything, " Wes hastened to assure her. "Just curiosity."
"I think your code name should be Tiberius," she said decisively. "I'll be Uhura."
"Tiberius? As in James Tiberius Kirk?" Wes blinked, then grinned. "Oh my God, this is your version of flirting. How do you say 'I fancy you' in Klingon? — Louisa Edwards

He stood and reached for the package, seeing his name in Ava's handwriting - and a note underneath the address. Don't open until the restaurant's grand opening. He grinned as he pulled off the tape. Raegan tsked. "Didn't you see the note?" "Rae, I guarantee you when Ava wrote that she knew I'd ignore it. — Melissa Tagg

I remember watching rioters in Panama, for example, smashing shop windows, allegedly in the name of freedom and democracy, but laughing as they did so, searching for new fields of glass to conquer. Many of the rioters were obviously bourgeois, the scions of privileged families, as have been the leaders of so many destructive movements in modern history. That same evening, I dined in an expensive restaurant and saw there a fellow diner whom I had observed a few hours before joyfully heaving a brick through a window. How much destruction did he think his country could bear before his own life might be affected, his own existence compromised? — Theodore Dalrymple

I still remember going to a smart restaurant in Los Angeles, and the maitre d' knew my name and showed me straight to a table even though we hadn't booked. I get stopped for autographs by people from Sweden on the tops of mountains. — Kevin Whately

You know you're in a college town when there's a restaurant called "Pancakea." The establishment was a pancake/coffee house, and Choo, Molly, Sig, and I were sitting in a booth arguing about the place and its name and their relative merits. I thought the name was a take on panacea, implying that pancakes are a cure for everything. Sig thought the owner wanted the place to become the IKEA of pancakes. Molly thought that given how large the pancakes were, the title might be a riff on Pangea, the first continental landmass. We all agreed that the owner was probably an ex-college student who couldn't get a job with his or her major, but we couldn't agree on whether that major was philosophy, marketing, anthropology, or just heavy drinking. — Elliott James

I was playing golf in Palm Springs and after a round I asked the waitress in a restaurant to bring me a glass of iced tea and lemonade. A lady sitting nearby heard me and asked the waitress to bring her a "Palmer," too. The name caught on and the beverage quickly spread around the country. — Arnold Palmer

But for me, dinner at a fine restaurant was the ultimate luxury. It was the very height of civilization. For what was civilization but the intellect's ascendancy out of the doldrums of necessity (shelter, sustenance and survival) into the ether of the finely superfluous (poetry, handbags and haute cuisine)? So removed from daily life was the whole experience that when all was rotten to the core, a fine dinner could revive the spirits. If and when I had twenty dollars left to my name, I was going to invest it right here in an elegant hour that couldn't be hocked. — Amor Towles