“I haven't acquired a taste for green tea, and I don't intend to. I like my coffee black with a little sugar, and it keeps my metabolism up! I don't mind the occasional Gatorade while I'm gymming.” MindLittlesBlackHavensTasteGreenCoffeeTeaSugarOccasionalMetabolismGreen TeaGatorade Author:Arjun Rampal
“I reveled in the smallness, the coziness of an upstairs bedroom in a traditional American Cape Cod house the half-floor that forces you to duck, to feel small and naive again, ready for anything, dying for love, your body a chimney filled with odd, black smoke. These square, squat, awkward rooms are like a fifty-square-foot paean to teenage-hood, to ripeness, to the first and last taste of youth.” FeelsFirstsBodyLastsHouseForceBlackRoomsHalfFeetDyingLove YouYouthReadyTasteFilledYour BodyTraditionalSmokeOddFiftySquaresDucksAwkwardBedroomTeenageNaiveHoodUpstairsCapesChimneysSmallnessSquatFirsts And LastsCape CodRipeness Author:Gary Shteyngart
“Blessed be they whose lives do not taste of evilbut if some god shakes your houseruin arrivesruin does not leaveit comes tolling over the generationsit comes rolling the black night salt up from the ocean floorand all your thrashed coasts groan” IfsDoeNightBlackTasteOceanBlessedShakesSaltRollingCoast Book:Antigonick Source: Antigonick
“I realized that I wasn't naturally born to good taste. I understand what it is, but I am happy to wear bright colors. I do have a few items of black clothing, but I think good taste and doing the same thing over and over again is what the whole art world has become.” ThinkingWorldArtWholeBlackBornColorTasteI RealizedClothingsItemsGood TasteArt WorldBright Colors Author:Jim Shaw
“My musical taste is like a 16-year-old girl's when it comes to working out - Rihanna, Black Eyed Peas, Miley Cyrus. I love it all!” YearsGirlBlackTasteMusicalWork OutPeasMileyMusical TasteBlack Eyed Peas Author:Jessica Capshaw
“I can't eat beans - all beans. I think because I'm half Cuban. So growing up, we were always eating black beans and rice, and I think I just said, 'Enough with it,' and I can't even stand to taste it anymore.” ThinkingSaidI CanEnoughBlackHalfGrowing UpGrowingTasteEatingRiceBeansCubanAlways Eating Author:Ryan Lochte
“Consider the black widow spider. It's a timid little beastie, useful and, for my taste, the prettiest of the arachnids, with its shiny, patent-leather finish and its red hourglass trademark. But the poor thing has the fatal misfortune of possessing enormously too much power for its size. So everybody kills it on sight.” LittlesBlackPoorPowerToo MuchTasteRedSightSizeMisfortunesSpidersLeatherWidowsPossessingPatentsPrettiestTrademarksBlack WidowToo Much PowerHourglass Book:Stranger in a Strange Land Source: Stranger in a Strange Land
“I carried Rudy softly through the broken street...with him I tried a little harder at comforting. I watched the contents of his soul for a moment and saw a black-painted boy calling the name Jesse Owens as he ran through an imaginary tape. I saw him hip-deep in some icy water, chasing a book, and I saw a boy lying in bed, imagining how a kiss would taste from his glorious next-door neighbor. He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.” HeartLittlesDoeBookSoulMomentsLyingNextNamesBlackWaterStepsBoysSawsDoorsStreetsCryBrokenMy HeartCallingTasteBedKissingHarderNeighborHipsRanGloriousTapeImaginaryChasingComfortingIcyRudyNext Door Neighbors Author:Markus Zusak
“A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many. It changes not only in growing light toward zenith and decline again, but in texture and mood, in tone and meaning, warped by a thousand factors of season, of heat or cold, of still or multi winds, torqued by odors, tastes, and the fabrics of ice or grass, of bud or leaf or black-drawn naked limbs. And as a day changes so do its subjects, bugs and birds, cates, dogs, butterflies and people.” PeopleStillsLightBlackGrowingOne ThingSubjectsDogWindColdTasteThousandBirdSeasonsMoodNakedFactorsIceGrassHeatToneDeclineButterflyFabricLeafsBugsLimbsTextureBudOdorZenith Book:The Winter of our Discontent Source: The Winter of our Discontent
“let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: it solidfies into something wlaw. not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. no, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tounge that you realize this is angel in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measyred and spread.” FeelsHappensFormBlackRealizingLossGriefFireRegretLike YouSorrowTasteAngelLet MeFingersSpreadCooksSubstanceThickAshesDipDissolvingSyrup Author:Jodi Picoult