Eclair Quotes

His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.

Valhalla on the right. Paradise regained on the left. Stuck between a Godiva truffle and a chocolate eclair. Between a rock and a very hard place. Two very hard places from the looks of it.

And the closest I've come to an out-of-body experience was when Joe Morelli took his mouth to me fourteen years ago, behind the eclair case.

Yeah,” Fred said and turned to the skinny teenager waiting on him. “Give me two bear crawlers and two chocolate eclairs.” “I thought Mimi made you promise no donuts.” Fred looked surprised. “This is not a donut, it’s a bear crawler. And this is not a donut, it’s an eclair.” I rolled my eyes.

I demand, in the words of Hippocrates, to be fed eclairs and served hot tea, before the day proves all too much.

Mereka adalah kerlip cerah yang sungguh berarti baginya, bersinar, seperti arti dari eclair sendiri, yang berarti cahaya.

You want to know the story? I'd be happy to tell you. I think I have just enough caloric energy stored up to make it through the telling of the tale. It's short. I am monstrously fat. I am a glutton. My wife was disgusted and repulsed. She gave me six months to lose one hundred pounds. I joined Weight Watchers . . . see it there, right across the street, that gaunt storefront? This afternoon was the big six-month weigh-in. So to speak. I had gained almost seventy pounds in the six months. An errant Snickers bar fell out of the cuff of my pants and rolled against my wife's foot as I stepped on the scale. The scale over there across the street is truly an ingenious device. One preprograms the desired new weight into it, and if one has achieved or gone below that new low weight, the scale bursts into recorded whistles and cheers and some lively marching-band tune. Apparently, tiny flags protrude from the top and wave mechanically back and forth. A failure--see for instance mine--results in a flatulent dirge of disappointed and contemptuous tuba. To the strains of the latter my wife left, the establishment, me, on the arm of a svelte yogurt distributor whom I am even now planning to crush, financially speaking, first thing tomorrow morning. Ms. Beadsman, you will find an eclair on the floor to the left of your chair. Could you perhaps manipulate it onto this plate with minimal chocolate loss and pass it to me.

He asked for a knife," she said. "What do you think that means? It's not for eclairs, I can promise you that.

BRET She looked like a Parisian river.. JEMAINE What, dirty? BRET She looked like a chocolate eclair.. JEMAINE That's rare. BRET Her eyes were reflections of eyes.. JEMAINE Ohh, nice. BRET And the rainbows danced in her hair.. JEMAINE Oh yea. BRET She reminded me of a winter's morning.. JEMAINE What, frigid? BRET Her perfume was Eau De Toilette.. JEMAINE What's that mean? BRET She was comparable to Cleopatra.. JEMAINE Quite old? BRET She was like Shakespeare's Juliet.. JEMAINE What? 13?

What was I thinking? I thought him sitting across from me would make it easier. Stupid me! Now I have to stare right at the warrior archangel and try to stay focused. I closed my eyes for a minute. Come on, Kells. Focus. Focus. You can do this! “Okay, Ren, there really is something that we need to discuss.” “Alright. Go ahead.” I blew out a breath. “You see, I can’t…reciprocate your feelings. Or your, umm, affections.” He laughed. “What are you talking about?” “Well, what I mean is, I-“ He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, full of meaning. “Kelsey, I know you reciprocate my feelings. Don’t pretend anymore that you don’t have them.” When did he figure all this out? Maybe when you were kissing him like an idiot, Kells. I’d hoped that I’d fooled him, but he could see right through me. I decided to play dumb and pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about. I waved my hand in the air. “Okay! Yes! I admit that I’m attracted to you.” Who wouldn’t be? “But it won’t work out,” I finished. There, it was out. Ren looked confused. “Why not?” “Because I’m too attracted to you.” “I don’t understand what you’re saying. How can your being attracted to me be a problem? I would think that’s a good thing.” “For normal people…it is,” I stated. “So I’m not normal?” “No. Let me explain it this way. It’s like this…a starving man would gladly eat a radish, right? In fact, a radish would be a feast if that’s all he had. But if he had a buffet in front of him, the radish would never be chosen.” Ren paused a moment. “I don’t get it. What are you saying?” “I’m saying…I’m the radish.” “And what am I? The buffet??” I tried to explain it further. “No…you’re the man. Now…I don’t really want to be the radish. I mean, who does? But I’m grounded enough to know what I am, and I am not a buffet. I mean, you could be having chocolate eclairs, for heaven’s sake.” “But not radishes.” “No.” “What…” Ren paused thoughtfully, “if I like radishes?” “You don’t. You don’t know any better.

Leurs yeux étoiles bestiales Eclairent ma compassion Qu'importe ma sagesse égale Celle des constellations Car c'est moi seul nuit qui t'étoile

Dearest Reece, I know you think it improper, or at the very least imprudent, for us to write to one another, but I don't care.There are too many rules as it is and they would choke me if I let them. Between corsets and lessons and curtsies and etiquette, I am hardly myself, and that is how they want it. They would prefer we all dress and talk and think (or not think) alike, like paper dolls. I do not wish to be a paper doll. Surely you can see that I am stronger than that.I don't give a fig for the scandalbroth or the gossipmongers. Let us remove to Paris, where no one knows us to care and where they dine on scandal with eclairs every morning. You will say again that it is impossible but I refuse to believe it. I know with every touch of your hand on mine, with every stolen kiss, that nothing is impossible. Perhaps love isn't meant to be simple. Perhaps this is merely a test, such as Psyche went through to prove herself to Cupid. Would you have me count lentils, beloved? And as you claim I have the most to lose, I pray you will let me decide for myself what it is I want and need. Which is you. Not silks or lobster soup in crystal bowls or diamonds around my neck. Just you. You say again and again that you love me. Prove it.

Whatever is he saying?" said a voice, very near, distinct and shrill through the warblings of the Super-Wurlitzer. The Savage violently started and, uncovering his face, looked round. Five khaki twins, each with the stump of a long eclair in his right hand, and their identical faces variously smeared with liquid chocolate, were standing in a row, puggily goggling at him. They met his eyes and simultaneously grinned. One of them pointed with his eclair butt. "Is she dead?"he asked.

Makes it feel like they’re not just ahead of you in the race of life, but have actually lapped you.

Helene is obsessed with shoving that thing in my face." I huffed. "I already have enough eyes on me, Ewan. Now please go over there and distract everyone while I grab ahold of Chloe." "This is ridiculous." He tossed his hands up. "I'm a highly trained gardinel whose job is the protection of —" "Two eclairs on the next shipment." "Make it four and you have a deal." Pure extortion. "Fine." Raveling, Emma (2013-09-17). Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (p. 301). Mandorla Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Except for the coconut cake (filled with Meyer lemon curd and glazed with brown sugar), most of the desserts she made for Walter were not her best or most original, but they were exemplars of their kind: portly, solid-citizen desserts, puddings of rice, bread, and noodles-sweets that the Pilgrims and other humble immigrants who had scraped together their prototypes would have bartered in a Mayflower minute for Greenie's blood-orange mousse, pear ice cream, or tiny white-chocolate eclairs. Walter had also commissioned a deep-dish apple pie, a strawberry marble cheesecake, and a layer cake he asked her to create exclusively for him. "Everybody expects one of those, you know, death-by-chocolate things on a menu like mine, but what I want is massacre by chocolate, execution by chocolate- firing squad by chocolate!" he told her. So that very night, after tucking George in bed, Greenie had returned to the kitchen where she made her living, in a basement two blocks from her home, and stayed up till morning to birth a four-layer cake so dense and muscular that even Walter, who could have benched a Shetland pony, dared not lift it with a single hand. It was the sort of dessert that appalled Greenie on principle, but it also embodied a kind of uberprosperity, a transgressive joy, flaunting the potential heft of butter, that Protean substance as wondrous and essential to a pastry chef as fire had been to early man. Walter christened the cake Apocalypse Now; Greenie held her tongue. By itself, this creation doubled the amount of cocoa she ordered from her supplier every month. After it was on his menu for a week, Walter bet her a lobster dinner that before the year was out, Gourmet would request the recipe, putting both of them on a wider culinary map.

Let's imagine... if you glimpsed the future, you were frightened by what you saw, what would you do with that information? You would go to... the politicians, captains of industry? And how would you convince them? Data? Facts? Good luck! The only facts they won't challenge are the ones that keep the wheels greased and the dollars rolling in. But what if... what if there was a way of skipping the middle man and putting the critical news directly into everyone's head? The probability of wide-spread annihilation kept going up. The only way to stop it was to show it. To scare people straight. Because, what reasonable human being wouldn't be galvanized by the potential destruction of everything they've ever known or loved? To save civilization, I would show its collapse. But, how do you think this vision was received? How do you think people responded to the prospect of imminent doom? They gobbled it up like a chocolate eclair! They didn't fear their demise, they re-packaged it. It could be enjoyed as video-games, as TV shows, books, movies, the entire world wholeheartedly embraced the apocalypse and sprinted towards it with gleeful abandon. Meanwhile, your Earth was crumbling all around you. You've got simultaneous epidemics of obesity and starvation. Explain that one! Bees and butterflies start to disappear, the glaciers melt, algae blooms. All around you the coal mine canaries are dropping dead and you won't take the hint! In every moment there's the possibility of a better future, but you people won't believe it. And because you won't believe it you won't do what is necessary to make it a reality. So, you dwell on this terrible future. You resign yourselves to it for one reason, because *that* future does not ask anything of you today. So yes, we saw the iceberg and warned the Titanic. But you all just steered for it anyway, full steam ahead. Why? Because you want to sink! You gave up!

My big butt wasn’t going anywhere until scientists could make zero calorie eclairs and pies.

These rooms are like onions, she thinks, they have layer after layer of memories.

Men typically complained about how complex women were and how impossible they were to figure out, but he knew them well. He knew what they wanted, even when they said they didn’t want it. Most women wanted details. He’d learned that a long time ago. You can’t just tell a woman you ran into her friend Rebecca while you were at the store and leave it at that. You’d better have more information because that just wouldn’t be good enough. And it wouldn’t make sense to her that you didn’t get more information from her friend. Soon the questions would come flying back at you. And if you didn’t have the answers, you would appear to be a fool in her eyes.

I'll bet you are a treat, naked," Eric said, just to boost my spirits. "You know it. I'm just as tasty as a big eclair," I said.

Marie se sentait bien, nue sous les draps a l'abri de l'orage, les sens exacerbes dans le noir, les yeux brillants dans les eclairs, savourant avec volupte la dimension erotique du plaisir qu'il y a de jouir de l'orage dans la chaleur d'un lit, la fenetre ouverte dans la nuit, quand le ciel se dechire et les elements se dechainent. La main et le regard, il n'est jamais question que de cela dans la vie, en amour, en art.

For the past three months, she'd been sticking rigorously to her diet. She ate an apple and a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast, a salad with grilled chicken breast for lunch, and a Lean Cuisine for dinner. At work, she avoided the carb-heavy staff meals. One of the sous-chefs was always happy to roast her some chicken breast or salmon. She'd chew spearmint gum while she cooked, and allow herself just a taste of even her favorite dishes. At bedtime, after her mom had gone to bed, she would sneak into the kitchen to slug down a shot of the vodka that she kept in the freezer, with a squeeze of fresh lime. Without that final step, she faced a night lying in bed, listening to her mom snuffling and sighing and sometimes weeping through the thin bedroom door, tormented by thoughts of everything she wanted to eat, when she started eating again: brownies with caramel swirled on top, and a sprinkling of flaky sea salt on top of that. Spicy chicken wings; garlic with pea shoots; spicy tofu in sesame honey sauce, curried goat- from the Jamaican place she'd discovered- over rice cooked with saffron. Vanilla custard in a cake cone, topped with a shower of rainbow sprinkles; eclairs; sugar cookies dusted with green and red; and hot chocolate drunk in front of a fire.

Barbara made an effort, but then Barbara had sod all else to do apart from think about food and clothes. No wonder the poor cow was so utterly barmy.

those startling mismatched eyes

The more knowledge and information one had, the easier they would obtain great rewards for little risk.

body, mind, perception, and reaction. Body represented a person’s strength and ability to heal. Mind was the person’s memory capabilities and wit. Perception was the degree to which one perceived sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch. Finally, reaction was the individual’s reaction speed. Normally, one started with three points on each, and was allowed to increase the value of one of them with each breakthrough, which also brought to the increase in awakening level.

L'egoisme est necessaire pour accomplir de grandes choses. Les grands destins sont toujours des destins de grands egoistes. Et quand ces destins sont accomplis, ils se changent en phares puissants qui nous eclairent. Alexandra repousse, rejette la mediocrite: Je n'ai que peu de gout pour les choses mediocres, le confort mediocre, les situations mediocres, le succes mediocres. Cette Vagabonde a peu de gout aussi pour ce qu'elle appelle "les destins d'huitre", autrement dit, les sedentaires, ceux qui confondent la vie et l'habitude. Fuis l'ostentation. Ne fais donc pas comme les petits esprits qui n'ont point de repos tant qu'ils n'ont pas parle avec de grands airs de ce qu'ils ont appris la veille. Evite donc de mettre, de toi-meme, la conversation sur des sujets ou ta vanite se complaise. Ne parle point de toi. Attends qu'on te demande ton opinion pour la donner. Sachons renoncer sans lachete a une faiblesse qui cause notre malheur. Une ame elevee se rejouit peu, ne s'afflige jamais et, dans toute chose, ne laisse paraitre aucun signe de joie ou de tristesse. Quand ton ame est triste et accablee, lis une page d'un philosophe, reflechis sur la cause de ta peine, le plus souvent tu trouveras que ce n'est que bagatelle. Ne dis pas: Si je vivais de telle maniere, je pourrai faire ceci ou cela; puisque tu ne fais pas tout ce que ton genre actuel de vie te permet de faire. Si tu ne profites pas du temps que tu as du libre, tu n'en profiterais pas davantage quand ce temps serait dix fois plus considerable. Prends garde de ne pas manger par sensualite mais, seulement, pour reparer tes forces. Le manger alourdit l'esprit et rend incapable de travailler. Tous les cultes degenerent en pitreries ridicules quand les masses y accedent. De beaux symboles, de beaux gestes ne peuvent etre que le privilege d'une elite. Des que la moindre parcelle de sagesse est entree dans l'esprit d'un homme, il aspire a la solitude.

Protecting someone when equipped with millions of subroutines, bots, and enough metal alloys to build a small colony was easy. Having to look over a child whose obedience and self-preservation instinct were questionable, with nothing but a single core, was like flying through a minefield blind.

One heck of a middle C today. Felt like I was gorging on a chocolate eclair. Kaiser none too pleased - after all, I'm a soprano. Sopranos don't sing in chocolate.

him out there, that he could dare to

That’s the trouble with being slightly deaf: you can’t always hear when you’re talking to yourself.

When one is my size, one learns to avoid flimsy furniture. Wicker chairs and ancient deckchairs basically scream public humiliation

poor.

She is still inside me, Edwina decides, thinking of the Russian dolls she once owned. All the Edwinas are still in there, from lonely boarding-school girl to excitable art student, young wife, mother, widow – all her former selves are stacked one inside the other, right down to the tiniest baby-doll Edwina buried deep within her, the size of a monkey nut, she supposes.

Before we finished up, Kellan drank his green concoction that smelled like sadness and lawn clippings, while I ate the two chocolate eclairs, because we all had our roles to play here.