I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, My morning incense, and my evening meal, The sweets of Hasty-Pudding.Come, dear bowl, Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
You can't fake qualityany more thanyou can fake a good meal.
Salad is not a meal. It is a style.
Their beer was strong; their wine was port; Their meal was large; their grace was short. They gave the poor the remnant meat, Just when it grew not fit to eat.
Breakfast is the one meal at which it is perfectly good manners to read the paper.
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