Chocolate Bombs Quotes

Let's just say that if these scientist had been using their brilliance for good instead of evil, cars would run off water vapor and leave fresh compost behind them; no one would be hungry; no one would be ill; all buildings would be earthquake-, bomb-, and flood-proof; and the world's entire economy would have collapsed and been replaced by one based on the value of chocolate.

Those who hope for purity and righteousness always try and destroy that which disturbs them. They think the disturbance comes from outside themselves. This is a serious problem. Wars, suicide bombings, and all sorts of other nasty things start from the premise that we can destroy "evil" outside ourselves without dealing with the evil within.

Detective Virgil and Barlow [bomb-technician] arranged to meet at the Starbucks. Virgil got a grande hot chocolate, no-fat milk, no foam, no whipped cream, and Barlow got a venti latte with an extra shot. As they took a corner table, Virgil said, “Remind me not to stand next to you if you’re handling a bomb. That much caffeine, you gotta be shakin’ like a hundred-dollar belly dancer.” “At least I’m not drinking like a little girl,” Barlow said.

Beth pulled herself away from Ian and walked forward, sticking out her hand. “I’m very well, thank you so much for inquiring. The journey was tiring but uneventful, no problems on the lines, and no Fenian bombs at any of the stations.” Hart shot Ian a scowl. “She is fond of jokes,” Ian said. “Is she?” Hart answered, his voice cool. “I am also fond of chocolate, and of raspberry fool.” Beth curled her ignored hand at her side. “At the moment I’d be fond of a cool drink of water and a soft bed.” Hart spoke directly to her for a change. “I don’t recall sending for you, Mrs. Ackerley. You’d even now be reclining on a soft bed if you’d gone upstairs with the maid.” Beth’s heart hammered. “The only person I ever allowed to send for me, Your Grace, was Mrs. Barrington, and that was because she paid me wages.” Hart’s brows drew fiercely together, and Ian said, “Leave her be, Hart.

What a gentle, pleasing flavor! It's as if I've taken a bite of powdery snow! Using that special explosion oven, she baked thin sheets of piecrust at a high temperature until they were nice and crispy... layering them together to create a mille-feuille! One bite and they crumble into delicate flakes... which then meld with the elegantly smooth and sweetly rich meringue created by the blades of her chain carving knife! "Excellently done! With every bite I take... ... my mouth fills with flavorful joy. It's so good I can't help but writhe in my seat!" What?! Out of nowhere... my tongue was assaulted with an explosion of thick, full-bodied sweetness? "Ah! There are flakes of chocolate in between the mille-feuille layers?" "I call those my CLUSTER CHOCO CHIPS. I mixed almond powder and mint leaves into chocolate and then chilled it until it was good and hard." Crushing that chocolate with a sledgehammer, I deployed the fragments into the piecrust, set to explode with just enough firepower! Protected by the layers of crust, the chocolate didn't melt during baking and was instead tempered... resulting in chocolate chips that have the crunch and richness of baking chocolate! The more you eat, the more you trip, setting off a chain of explosions... ... as if triggering a cluster bomb! "These are the specs of what I have dubbed... ... my CLUSTER BOMB CAKE!

One thing that you can be sure of in this world, is that nobody's responsible. The starving millions? That's someone else's fault - let them eat cake! The H-bomb? They're blown to smithereens? - God must have dropped it! The chocolate vending machine's out of order? It doesn't belong to the publican or his wife, certainly not! Nobody is who it belongs to, and nobody deals with official complaints! It restocks itself, of its own accord, totally self-perpetuating! But somebody's pocketing the non-returnable two bob bits ; if you want to know their names you can go to the devil!

I've never known anyone with the capacity for sugar that Adeena has. She'd demolished her waffles, which she'd drowned in syrup, and then ordered a slice of triple chocolate tuxedo pie, another sugar bomb. If I ate the way she'd did, I'd have lost a foot to diabetes by now. Martha slid our desserts in front of us, and Adeena and I hummed in appreciation after taking our first bites. The lemon icebox cake was cold and creamy, with a background sweetness and a whole lot of tang. As I often did when sampling delicious desserts, I tried to deconstruct what was in it. Graham crackers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and a ton of lemon curd seemed to be the basis of the recipe. Similar to the ginger calamansi pie I'd made, but simpler and no-bake, if I decided to buy the graham crackers instead of making my own. Definitely worth experimenting with, as I had a jar of calamansi curd tucked away in the fridge just begging to be used. I made a note on my phone later, maybe as a summer offering. As per usual when eating out, Adeena and I swapped plates so we could taste each other's desserts. "What do you think, girls?" I grinned at Martha. "Delicious. I love how the lemon cake is sweet and tangy, but you don't go too far in either direction." Adeena added, "It's the perfect counterpoint to my chocolate pie, which is divine, by the way. Rich, creamy, and so satisfying.

The DUCE diverted funds intended for the Fiume adventure, and used them for His own election campaign. He was arrested for the illegal possession of arms, sent parcel bombs to the Archbishop of Milan and its mayor, and after election was, as is well-known, responsible for the assassination of Di Vagno and Matteoti. Since then He has been responsible for the murders of Don Mizzoni Amendola, the Rosselli brothers, and the journalist Piero Gobetti, quite apart from the hundreds who have been the victims of His squadistri in Ferrara, Ravenna and Trieste, and the thousands who have perished in foreign places whose conquest was useless and pointless. We Italians remain eternally grateful for this, and consider that so much violence has made us a superior race, just as the introduction of revolvers into Parliament and the complete destruction of constitutional democracy have raised our institutions to the greatest possible heights of civilisation. Since the illegal seizure of power, Italy has known an average of five acts of political violence per diem, the DUCE has decreed that 1922 is the new Annus Domini, and He was pretended to be a Catholic in order to dupe the Holy Father into supporting Him against the Communists, even though He really is one Himself. He has completely suborned the press by wrecking the premises of dissident newspapers and journals. In 1923 he invaded Corfu for no apparent reason, and was forced to withdraw by the League of Nations. In 1924 He gerrymandered the elections, and He has oppressed minorities in the Tyrol and the North-East. He sent our soldiers to take part in the rape of Somalia and Libya, drenching their hands in the blood of innocents, He has doubled the number of the bureaucracy in order to tame the bourgeoisie, He has abolished local government, interfered with the judiciary, and purportedly has divinely stopped the flow of lava on Mt Etna by a mere act of will. He has struck Napoleonic attitudes whilst permitting Himself to be used to advertise Perugina chocolates, He has shaved his head because He is ashamed to be seen to be going bald, He has been obliged to hire a tutor to teach Him table manners, He has introduced the Roman salute as a more hygienic alternative to the handshake, He pretends not to need spectacles, He has a repertoire of only two facial expression, He stands on a concealed podium whilst making speeches because He is so short, He pretends to have studied economics with Pareto, and He has assumed infallibility and encouraged the people to carry His image in marches, as though He were a saint. He is a saint, of course. He has (and who are we to disagree?) declared Himself greater than Aristotle, Kant, Aquinas, Dante, Michelangelo, Washington, Lincoln, and Bonaparte, and He has appointed ministers to serve Him who are all sycophants, renegades, racketeers, placemen, and shorter than He is. He is afraid of the Evil Eye and has abolished the second person singular as a form of address. He has caused Toscanini to be beaten up for refusing to play 'Giovinezza', and He has appointed academicians to prove that all great inventions were originally Italian and that Shakespeare was the pseudonym of an Italian poet. He has built a road through the site of the forum, demolishing fifteen ancient churches, and has ordered a statue of Hercules, eighty metres high, which will have His own visage, and which so far consists of a part of the face and one gigantic foot, and which cannot be completed because it has already used up one hundred tons of metal.

Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs

Winston Churchill was known for his love for sweets, so Hitler had planned to create a chocolate with a bomb inside that would explode upon cracking open a row of chocolate bits.

The Owl & Moon would never lack for customers. If a person came in for Chocolate Bomb cookies for her daughter's birthday, while she waited to have them boxed she'd smell the paper-thin rosemary-garlic Cheese Pennies, and pick up two dozen. Then she'd ask for a taste of the gleaming slab of Chocolate Cherry Thunder fudge.