Roast Me Quotes & Sayings

Dead Butterfly
By Ellen Bass
For months my daughter carried
a dead monarch in a quart mason jar.
To and from school in her backpack,
to her only friend's house. At the dinner table
it sat like a guest alongside the pot roast.
She took it to bed, propped by her pillow.
Was it the year her brother was born?
Was this her own too-fragile baby
that had lived - so briefly - in its glassed world?
Or the year she refused to go to her father's house?
Was this the holding-her-breath girl she became there?
This plump child in her rolled-down socks
I sometimes wanted to haul back inside me
and carry safe again. What was her fierce
commitment? I never understood.
We just lived with the dead winged thing
as part of her, as part of us,
weightless in its heavy jar. — Ellen Bass

The most appealing thing to me about food is combining and layering flavors, tastes, and textures. So the perfect sandwich has to be toasted. It has to have Emmenthal Swiss cheese and a combination of sweet and savory - some cranberry or fig thing happening - with different kinds of meats like Black Forest ham and roast beef. — Kyle MacLachlan

A growing heat, like a million blazing suns all focused on me, lit my insides. It felt like I was being cooked in the Gabriella Roast Cooker, me spinning around-and-around to heat my flesh evenly. For some reason I was having trouble comprehending the sudden change in my revolving world as I swelled with a horrible, billowing fire. — Laura Kreitzer

My faith does not lead me to think the Lord will provide us with roast pig, bread already buttered, etc. He will provide us with the ability to raise the grain. — Brigham Young

We approach the house and I wave at Jimmy.
"And if he thinks he's eating with us, he's got another thing coming," my dad says.
Jimmy approaches us and takes the shopping bags from me, looking inside them.
"Lamb roast. Am I invited? — Melina Marchetta

What?" I ask, throwing my hands up, and then pointing at the woman. "Don't even look at me like that, lady. You know after having that baby, your vagina probably looks like wrinkled roast beef curtains. So don't kid yourself...because your vagina hates you." ~Vivian — S.L. Romines

My hubby makes a mean salmon steak at the grill, but he leaves all the sides up to me. I love to grill and roast vegetables. I also experiment with baking instead of frying some things, like onion rings. I even make biscuits with coconut oil these days. — Kimberly Schlapman

The sight of all the food stacked in those kitchens made me dizzy. It's not that we hadn't enough to eat at home, it's just that my grandmother always cooked economy joints and economy meat loafs and had the habit of saying, the minute you lifted the first forkful to your mouth, "I hope you enjoy that, it cost forty-one cents a pound," which always made me feel I was somehow eating pennies instead of Sunday roast. — Sylvia Plath

I think that if you can roast a chicken, you can get whatever you want out of a woman. Maybe it's just me but I would suspect that a man trying to impress a woman would be more likely to bring out the steak - "I killed this for you, now I'm grilling it for you." A man that can cook you a proper meal that is like a weekday meal - which I think cannot be better than in the form of a roast chicken - that's the greatest. — Elizabeth Gilbert

You could not save him." Dretta nodded. "But he saved you. And you, Merros Dulver, you are supposed to save us from these Sa'ba Taalor when they attack. That's what I keep hearing. That you are a hero and will keep us safe from the people that killed my husband." Her voice was calm as she looked away from him to layer slices of roast meat and bread on his plate. When she looked up at him again her eyes were dry. "Keep us safe. Keep me safe. And while you are doing that, I want you to find the bitch that murdered my man and I want you to carve her head from her body." Her voice was still calm; as if she were discussing the crops she might plant on the last lands of her villa. "Bring me her head and prove to me that my husband made the right choice in dying for you. — James A. Moore

This is what you have to learn. Don't backtalk. Don't explain. Don't protest. Don't fight it out. Just say, 'All right, honey,' and do whatever the hell you want. For example, just this morning, Mark said, 'Make tacos tonight, babe,' before he kissed me good-bye. No 'please'. No, 'are you feeling like tacos?' Just 'make them.'" She tipped her head to the side. "Now, are we having tacos?" She shook her head. "Hell no. We had tacos two days ago. I get he loves my tacos, but eff that. My friend is coming over and I just had tacos. Furthermore, I have to make the damn things. So we're having a roast. You serve company a good roast. Not freaking tacos. — Kristen Ashley

I will make Maggie safe. If the world burns because of that then so be it. Me and the kid will roast some marshmallows. — Jim Butcher

I get a text from my grandfather informing me that my grandmother is cooking us dinner. His text ended with the word "roast," preceded by a hash tag. — Colleen Hoover

I think I'll get a nut roast. Maybe a nut roast is too lesbian? — Jackie Kay

Valerie was crying, too. She was laughing and sniffling back sobs. "I'm going to marry my snuggy wuggums," she said.
Morelli paused, his fork halfway to the roast chicken platter. He slid his eyes to me and leaned close. "If you ever call me snuggy wuggums in public I'll lock you in the cellar and chain you to the furnace. — Janet Evanovich

Any part of the piggy Is quite all right with me Ham from Westphalia, ham from Parma Ham as lean as the Dalai Lama Ham from Virginia, ham from York, Trotters Sausages, hot roast pork. Crackling crisp for my teeth to grind on Bacon with or without the rind on Though humanitarian I'm not a vegetarian. I'm neither crank nor prude nor prig And though it may sound infra dig Any part of the darling pig Is perfectly fine with me. — Noel Coward

About six in the evening I came out of the moorland to a white ribbon of road which wound up the narrow vale of a lowland stream. As I followed it, fields gave place to bent, the glen became a plateau, and presently I had reached a kind of pass where a solitary house smoked in the twilight. The road swung over a bridge, and leaning on the parapet was a young man. He was smoking a long clay pipe and studying the water with spectacled eyes. In his left hand was a small book with a finger marking the place. Slowly he repeated - As when a Gryphon through the wilderness With winged step, o'er hill and moory dale Pursues the Arimaspian. He jumped round as my step rung on the keystone, and I saw a pleasant sunburnt boyish face. 'Good evening to you,' he said gravely. 'It's a fine night for the road.' The smell of peat smoke and of some savoury roast floated to me from the house. — John Buchan

Which means what?" I demanded. "That I'm nothing? That I'm not a person? That you can do anything you want to me and it's okay? You're so full of it! But you're wrong. I know that I do matter. I am important. And you're a pathetic, cold, pointless wastoid who's going to grow old alone and die, then roast in limbo forever. — James Patterson

Thanksgiving. It proved you had survived another year with its wars, inflation, unemployment, smog, presidents. It was a grand neurotic gathering of clans: loud drunks, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, screaming children, would-be suicides. And don't forget indigestion. I wasn't different from anyone else: There sat the 18-pound bird on my sink, dead, plucked, totally disemboweled. Iris would roast it for me. — Charles Bukowski

How long is this going to take, Finnikin? Ask him if they have food. You promised me roast pork." Finnikin rolled his eyes as Moss swung from side to side, trying to dislodge him from his back. "Woman, I'm trying to fight here! Or has that escaped your attention?" Moss reached over his shoulder, grabbed Finnikin by his jerkin, and swung him over his head. But then he stopped suddenly, sliding Finnikin back onto the ground, staring at him. "Finnikin? Did she say Finnikin?" Finnikin felt dizzy, the world spinning out of control. "Finn?" Moss asked again, and then something else seemed to occur to him. "Did you tell her to go get your . . ." He swung around to where the others stood. "Blessed day," he murmured. "Oh, blessed day. — Melina Marchetta

Or just claim it come from Leviticus since nobody ever read Leviticus. This is how you know. Nobody who get to the end of Leviticus can still take that book seriously. Even in a book full of it, that book is mad as shit. Don't lie with man as with woman, sure I can run with that reasoning. But don't eat crab? Not even with the nice, soft, sweet roast yam? And why kill a man for that? And trust me, the last thing any man who rape my daughter going to get to do is marry her. How, when I slice him up piece by piece, keeping him alive for all of it and have him watch me feed him foot to stray dog? — Marlon James

I wish your sister was here. It seems wrong to have a celebration without her. Not to me, it didn't. Just for once, I was quite enjoying being the focus of attention. It might sound childish, but it was true. I loved having Will and Dad laughing about me. I loved the fact that every element of supper - from roast chicken to chocolate mousse - was my favorite. I liked the fact that I could be who I wanted to be without my sister's voice reminding me — Jojo Moyes

At home in L.A., Sunday is lazy. It's the wife and me lying in bed with coffee, watching 'The Soup' or something funny on TiVo. The kid will occasionally join us. Eventually, breakfast is at a place down the street called Paty's. And we always have some kind of great dinner - my wife makes a great roast beef. — Eric McCormack

It's called "Caliban At Sunset".' 'What at sunset?' 'Caliban.' He cleared his throat, and began: I stood with a man Watching the sun go down. The air was full of murmurous summer scents And a brave breeze sang like a bugle From a sky that smouldered in the west, A sky of crimson, amethyst and gold and sepia And blue as blue as were the eyes of Helen When she sat Gazing from some high tower in Ilium Upon the Grecian tents darkling below. And he, This man who stood beside me, Gaped like some dull, half-witted animal And said, 'I say, Doesn't that sunset remind you Of a slice Of underdone roast beef?' He — P.G. Wodehouse

Annabelle wore a puzzled expression. "How did he break the chair? Does he have a foul temper? Did he throw it?"
"He broke it by sitting on it," Lillian said with a scowl.
"Cousin Eustace is rather l-large boned," Evie admitted.
"Cousin Eustace has more chins than I've got fingers," Lillian said impatiently. "And he was so busy filling his face during the ball that he couldn't be bothered to make conversation."
"When I went to shake his hand," Daisy added, "I came away with a half-eaten wing of roast chicken."
"He forgot that he was holding it," Evie said apologetically. "He did say he was sorry for ruining your glove, as I recall."
Daisy frowned. "That didn't bother me nearly as much as the question of where he was hiding the rest of the chicken. — Lisa Kleypas

When I went on anyway, my body began to grow cold, and I thought I
was dead. Face pale, my dead self sat down on a bench and began to turn
toward my real self, who was watching this hallucination on the screen of the
night. My dead self came nearer, just as if it might want to shake hands with my
real self. That's when I panicked and tried to run. But my dead self pursued me
and finally caught me, entered me and controlled me. I'd felt then just the way I
felt now. I felt as if a hole had opened in my head from which consciousness
and memory leaked out and in their place the rash crowded in, and a cold like
spoiled roast chicken. But that time before, shaking and clinging to the damp
bench, I'd told myself, Hey, take a good look, isn't the world still under your
feet? I'm on this ground, and on this same ground are trees and grass and ants
carrying sand to their nests, little girls chasing rolling balls, and puppies running. — Ryu Murakami

Yee-ouch!" she cried as the pan clattered back onto the stovetop. She was shaking her left hand and staring at the venison, grateful she hadn't dropped their dinner on the floor, when Callahan appeared in the doorway to her kitchen. "What's wrong?" "I'm an idiot. I almost dropped the roast." "You burned yourself," he surmised as his gaze shifted from her to the pot on the stove. Crossing to the kitchen sink, he twisted the cold water faucet. "C'mere." When she moved close, he took her arm by the wrist and studied her hand as he guided it beneath the running water. "You grabbed your pan without a pad? You don't strike me as the careless sort." "I have my moments of ditziness," she replied. Ditziness — Emily March

Cooking certain dishes, like roast pork, reminds me of my mother. — Maya Angelou

But while I'd be their daughter, while I'd eat the roast and come home from dates and wash the dishes, I would also be myself. I would love my mother, but I'd never want to be her again. I would never be what someone else wanted me to be. I would never laugh at a joke I didn't think was funny. I would never tell another lie. I would be the truth-teller, starting today. That would be tough.
But I was tougher. — Judy Blundell

This heat must be hell on your draki. Really blistering it. I'll wait. Check back in on you in about - " He tilts his head back as though calculating just how long I could make it here. "Five weeks," he announces.
Five weeks, huh. I'm almost surprised he would grant me that much time.
"Oh, my mother will just love you popping in. She'll probably cook a pot roast. — Sophie Jordan

Beer drinkers have been duped by mass marketing into the belief that it makes sense to drink only one brand of beer. In truth, brand loyalty in beer makes no more sense than 'vegetable loyalty' in food. Can you imagine it? No thanks, I'll pass on the mashed potatoes, carrots, bread and roast beef. Me, I'm strictly a broccoli man.' — Stephen Beaumont

We played checkers," said Czernobog, hacking himself another lump of pot roast. "The young man and me. He won a game, I won a game. Because he won a game, I have agreed to go with him and Wednesday, and help in their madness. And because I won a game, when this is all done, I get to kill the young man, with a blow of a hammer."
The two Zoryas nodded gravely. "Such a pity," Zorya Vechernyaya told Shadow. "In my fortune for you, I should have said you would have a long life and a happy one, with many children."
"That is why you are a good fortune-teller, said Zorya Utrennyaya. She looked sleepy, as if it were effort for her to be up so late. "You tell the best lies. — Neil Gaiman

My goodness," my mother said, reading the label. "It's a tenderloin." "I just got it in," Randy said. "It's corn-fed, and it's got real good marbling. I know everybody's always talking about grass-fed beef, but if you ask me it's shoe leather. Give me a cow that's been shoved into a pen with a thousand other cows and forced to eat grain, and I'll show you a darn good pot roast. — Janet Evanovich

At some point, I figured that it would be more effective and far funnier to embrace the ugliest, most terrifying things in the world
the Holocaust, racism, rape, et cetera. But for the sake of comedy, and the comedian's personal sanity, this requires a certain emotional distance. It's akin to being a shrink or a social worker. you might think that the most sensitive, empathetic person would make the best social worker, but that person would end up being soup on the floor. It really takes someone strong
someone, dare I say, with a big fat wall up
to work in a pool of heartbreak all day and not want to fucking kill yourself. But adopting a persona at once ignorant and arrogant allowed me to say what I didn't mean, even preach the opposite of what I believed. For me, it was a funny way to be sincere. And like the jokes in a roast, the hope is that the genuine sentiment
maybe even a goodness underneath the joke (however brutal) transcends. — Sarah Silverman

I was the best man at my younger brother's wedding and at the time part of my roast to him was I appreciated that he's done the only profession that makes me look good, running a used car dealership. — David Plouffe

If they think they can stop me, I defy them to bring the best they have and I shall roast them over a pit of their own arrogant stupidity.
Maxis — Sherrilyn Kenyon

As soon as a roast is announced, I get everybody - family, friends, waitresses, cab drivers - giving me jokes about the person getting roasted. I'm the mouthpiece for the masses. — Jeff Ross

Relway mused, "Now that it's happened I'm not so sure I'm happy with the outcome. Spared their racial theories The Call would've been good for TunFaire." He would appreciate their interest in law and order and proper behavior. "Here's a challenge you still need to meet. Glory Mooncalled. He's weak now but he's still out there somewhere. If you don't get him now he'll try to put something back together someday. He can't help himself." "It's still great day for TunFaire, Garrett. One of pure triumph." I don't know if he meant that or was being sarcastic. You never quite know anything with Relway. And he wants it that way. "I liked the way you put it, Garrett. Faded steel heat." I'd mentioned that to him the night he'd discovered the tanks in the old Lamp brewery. "But the war goes on." "The war never ends. Tell you what. Send me a note when you do decide to roast that pigeon. I've got dibs on a drumstick. — Glen Cook

I wasn't gay, had never been fucked up the ass before, but again, the whole being a chuck roast versus having a fucked ass argument made it a no-brainer to me. — Tymber Dalton

It's rude to discuss religion', the Buraq sniffed. 'But I don't hold with Teatimers. I'm of the Midnight Snack school. You have tea because it's three o'clock and that's what's done and yes, yes, it's pleasant to have a nice cup and a sandwich with no crusts on, but pleasant is not enough for me! When you tuck into a Midnight Snack, it's because you're hungry in the dark. You want that bit of roast you couldn't finish at supper and you want it now. Midnight Snackery is primal, like a wolf in the wood, hunkering down over her kill. — Catherynne M Valente

Champagne for my wife," he said without taking his eyes off her. He drew her chair back himself. "Let me introduce you to Natalie and Sam Derrick."
"So this is Eve! I'm just thrilled to meet you." Natalie flashed a mile-wide grin, even as her gaze tracked over Eve's clothes.
"Glad you could join us." Sam held out a hand the size of a rump roast, pumped Eve's twice.
"Roarke's told us it's hard for you to get away from work."
"I just can't think how you investigate murders ."
Eve glanced back at Natalie. "First I need a body." She felt Roarke's hand pat her thigh twice. — J.D. Robb

I hate to interrupt such a touching scene but those hellhounds are not going to wait for you two to play kissey face. So, unless you intend to nail a chunk of roast beef to my butt and have me run around as a distraction, I would suggest we prepare for battle. Pg. 113-114 — Alexandra Ivy

My mother is the sort of woman who not only can raise a chicken and roast it to moist perfection but, as she proved to my openmouthed sister and me on a family holiday to Morocco when we were very young, can barter for one in a market, kill it, pluck it, and then cook it to perfection. — Hamish Bowles

When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine. — Tracy K. Smith