Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Greg Gilbert

Quote by Greg Gilbert

“If you’ve ever stood at the edge of a canyon and seen the birds swooping below you and the clouds stretched out over your head, or if you’ve ever stood in a field and felt a tiny rush of fear as you’ve watched a thunderstorm roll in over the horizon, then you know what this means. There is something about the grandeur of creation that calls out to the human heart, saying, “You are not all there is!”

Quote by Greg Gilbert

Book:What Is the Gospel?
Create image

Work

What Is the Gospel?

This book delves into the fundamental teachings and beliefs that form the basis of the Christian faith. more

Author

Greg Gilbert
Greg Gilbert

Born on January 22, 1962, Greg Gilbert is a renowned ice hockey player. He has demonstrated exceptional skills and leadership on the ice, winning numerous honors for his teams. more

You May Also Like

“My love When I look at you I see the person who has stolen my heart Snatched my soul In a moment I lost myself in you In your eyes I see mystery, oh those eyes I could stare at them all day. I could drown in your arms And melt with your kisses Oh my love I wish I would never part from you. My love my life is nothing without you in it My happiness, my companion, my best friend I couldn't have asked for a better love than yours.”

LoveRomanceLove QuotesLove Quotes And SayingsLove StoryLove QuoteLove QuotationsRomance QuotesRomantic Quotes
Book:A Broken Woman: From a child that was loved dearly into a teen that has lost her strength
Create image

“Kenny. You've got the Moroccan carrot salad done, but where are we with the brussels sprouts?" "Everything is prepped. We just need the sprouts." "Good. Go ahead and start caramelizing the onions for the goat-cheese toasts, and then get the bacon going---just be sure to undercook the bacon. It'll cook the rest of the way in the oven." "Yes, chef." "Clementine, can you take over the grilled crudités? We need to get them chilled by five." She nodded. "Yes, chef." "Excellent. I'll start prepping the butternut-squash fritters," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "And then the mozzarella poppers. Let's get to work." I was elbows deep in fried mozzarella and crispy-edged butternut-squash fritters when my brother and boyfriend finally arrived, wet and bedraggled, at the kitchen door. "I have dates," Nico said, holding the crate aloft. "Dates and brussels sprouts." "It's about time," I shot back. "You've been single far too long." "I'm going to get cleaned up," he said, "and then I can relieve you." "Take your time," I replied honestly. "I've got everything under control." And I did. The fritters were done and in the warming oven with a cake pan full of water in the rack below to keep them from drying out. I'd made up the mozzarella poppers by breading the rounds of buffalo-milk mozzarella with batter and panko crumbs before deep-frying them in batches. It had felt good to work with my hands again, good to do something other than managerial work. I cast a longing eye at Clementine's pavlovas, the baked egg whites topped with quartered figs. There was something soothing about working with egg whites, the frothy pure-white shade they became when whisked.”

BanterFood PreparationMozzarellaDeep FriedBrussels SproutsEgg WhiteFritterCooking And Chef
Book:Together at the Table
Create image

“As soon as he was out of sight, Gui pulled the macaron mixture towards him, and took a deep breath. He whipped it back and forth, beads of sweat springing on his forehead as his arm muscles released and contracted. When it was almost ready, he reached up for the shelf where the spices and colors were kept. Carefully, he brought down the bottle of 'creme de violette,' the jar of delicate, dried violets, their petals sparkling with sugar. In tiny drops, he measured the purple liqueur into the mixture. He was acting on impulse, yet at the same time he felt certain, as though his first teacher, Monsieur Careme, was with him, guiding his steps. The scent reached up as he stirred, heady and sweet as a meadow, deep as lingering perfume in a midnight room. Hands shaking, he piped the mixture onto a tray in tiny rounds, enough to make six, one for each day that he and Jeanne would have to make it through before they could be together for the rest of their lives. Maurice was delayed talking to Josef, and by the time he returned, Gui was putting the finishing touches to his creations, filling them with a vanilla cream from the cold room, balancing one, tiny, sugar-frosted violet flower upon each.”

ScentBakingFlavorsCreating ArtPastry ChefMacaronsVioletsGuillaume Du Frère
Book:The Confectioner's Tale
Create image

“How do you fancy making some dark cherry ganache with me, and we can fill these little yuzu shells with that instead? They can be a temporary special: a macaron de saison." I scrape the offending basil mixture into the bin. "Whatever you want." Her brightening eyes betray her. "That's the enthusiasm I was looking for," I reply, smiling. "What shall we call them then? It has to be French." We surrender to a thoughtful silence. Outside the cicadas are playing their noisy summer symphony. I imagine them boldly serenading one another from old tires, forgotten woodpiles, discarded plastic noodle bowls. "Something about summer..." she mumbles. After conferring with my worn, flour-dusted French-English dictionary, we agree on 'Brise d'Ete.”

FrenchFlavorsCicadasSummer BreezeMacaronsDark CherryYuzu
Book:The Color of Tea
Create image