Kitkat Quotes

Because salvation is by grace through faith, I believe that among the countless number of people standing in front of the throne and in front of the Lamb, dressed in white robes and holding palms in their hands (see Revelation 7:9), I shall see the prostitute from the Kit-Kat Ranch in Carson City, Nevada, who tearfully told me that she could find no other employment to support her two-year-old son. I shall see the woman who had an abortion and is haunted by guilt and remorse but did the best she could faced with grueling alternatives; the businessman besieged with debt who sold his integrity in a series of desperate transactions; the insecure clergyman addicted to being liked, who never challenged his people from the pulpit and longed for unconditional love; the sexually abused teen molested by his father and now selling his body on the street, who, as he falls asleep each night after his last 'trick', whispers the name of the unknown God he learned about in Sunday school. 'But how?' we ask. Then the voice says, 'They have washed their robes and have made them white in the blood of the Lamb.' There they are. There *we* are - the multitude who so wanted to be faithful, who at times got defeated, soiled by life, and bested by trials, wearing the bloodied garments of life's tribulations, but through it all clung to faith. My friends, if this is not good news to you, you have never understood the gospel of grace.

Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that's why it's come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It's a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren't indulging in the "luxury" of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn't inconvenience anyone. And that's why it's so often a woman's addiction of choice. All the quietly eating mums. All the KitKats in office drawers. All the unhappy moments, late at night, caught only in the fridge light.

I rented Ghostbusters, my all-time favorite inspirational movie. I picked up some microwave, popcorn, a KitKat, a bag of bite-sized Reese's peanut butter cups, and a box of instant hot chocolate with marshmallows. Do I know how to have a good time, or what?

KitKat 13:18:45: Who would your ideal prince be? Your childhood friend, Prince Charming, or a strong warrior? Gallows Humor 13:19:10: I don’t want to know which Disney Princess I am. I’ve told you before, stop doing online quizzes. Leave it. Gallows Humor 13:22:19: He would love me for myself. KitKat 13:22:57: Tell me about your dress.

« [L]'arbre dont on ferait leur cercueil poussait quelque part dans la forêt mais ils n'en savaient rien, un caillot de sang au cerveau pouvait les envoyer au néant en quelques secondes et ils se réjouissaient d'avoir mis la main sur un lot de petites Kit-Kat. »

LIFE HACK #538: Melt four KitKat Chunkys together with a warm knife for a fun way to forget you are crippled by loneliness.

That by reading, whole worlds could be explored without ever leaving home. My father, on the other hand, warned me to get used to it. “It’s our lot in life, Kit-Kat,” he told me. “People like us toil. The rich bastards running everything make sure of that.

It’s our lot in life, Kit-Kat,” he told me. “People like us toil. The rich bastards running everything make sure of that.

He tightened his arm and tugged me back in. Then he had the nerve to chuckle. “Go to sleep, Kitkat.” “I’m not tired.” “Then lie here and think of me fucking you.” “Ream, that’s ridiculous.” “No, you’re being ridiculous for not shutting your mouth and just enjoying cuddling.” “You’re an ass.” “Never said I wasn’t. Now close that sweet, fuckable mouth before I find another way to shut it.

How is that light still on, Talbot?” BT asked in hushed tones with a note of reverence in his voice. “There’s a machine with Kit-Kats in there, do you have any change, Mr. T?” Tommy asked hopefully. It’s amazing to me that all of us had known Tommy long enough that nobody even looked halfway cross-eyed at him at his pronouncement. If Tommy had said that a convention of clowns respite with balloon animals was in there singing Billy Joel songs, we would all have believed him. Of course I wouldn’t have gone in, clowns are evil, but I still would have believed him.

And I dreamed of a home long ago in New England, my little kitkats trying to go a thousand miles following me on the road across America, and my mother with a pack on her back, and my father running after the ephemeral uncatchable train, and I dreamed and woke up to a gray dawn, saw it, sniffed (because I had seen all the horizon shift as if a sceneshifter had hurried to put it back in place and make me believe in its reality), and went back to sleep, turning over. "It's all the same thing," I heard my voice say in the void that's highly embraceable during sleep.

You've been a naughty kit-kat. Silly bad thing. Dirty raggedy scamp. You'll go straight to hell,' said Rose. 'Yes. You've been bad and whiny. You don't get milk. No milk at all. No milk one bit. No milk for you.,' insisted Pierrot. ''If you cry, I'm going to poke you in the nose.' 'Owww! Owww! Owww! I don't want to hear it.' You smell bad. You have to scrub your paws. Bath time. Stinky creep.' 'Naughty sinner, naught, naughty, naughty. With mud for paws.' 'Soooo shameful. Look at me. Mister Shameful.' They had never been taught words of affection. Although the two had only known harsh terms and words of discipline, they had managed to transform them into words of love.

Amogus

It is perhaps dangerous to conclude too much about the character and intentions of a nation based on the snacks menu in a railway carriage, but I couldn't help wonder if Scottish nationalism hasn't gone a little too far now. I mean, these poor people are denying themselves simple comforts like KitKats and Cornish pasties and instead are eating neeps and foot medication on grounds of patriotism. Seems a bit unnecessary to me.

Dan’s features showcased a mixture of intense confusion and frustration, and a small little voice in my head wondered if it was too late. If our chance had passed. I glared at that voice and shut a door in its face. What a stupid voice. You can’t sit here, voice. NEVER COME BACK! While I was berating my doubt, the cloud of confusion hovering over Dan’s features abruptly cleared and his stare cut to mine. It startled me because—lo and behold—the sexy eyes were back. Boy oh boy, were they back. Dan was legit bringing sexy back. Whoa. In the next moment, his mouth hooked upward and he pushed away from the wall, sauntering toward me. Instinctively, I took two steps back. “Kit-Kat.” He wagged a finger at me, like I’d been naughty. “You liked me.” “You liked me, you just said so,” I volleyed back, the words sounding like an accusation. “I did.” His grin grew and his voice deepened. “And I do.” Oh. Okay. Here we go.

Finally, let's talk about those Kit Kat bars. There is no flavor that can be embodied in Kit Kat form and sold in Japanese stores. Green tea. Black tea. Miso. Cherry blossom. Soy sauce. Toasted soybean powder (kinako). Chile. Orange. Melon. Only a few are available at any given time, and right now, evil geniuses at Nestlé are coming up with new flavors. I'd like to suggest okonomiyaki flavor, which would consist of a bag of assorted flavors (ginger, squid, mountain yam, egg) that could be combined in the proportions of your choice, just like a real okonomiyaki. Sauce and Kewpie mayo optional. We bought a SkyTree orange Kit Kat, was a regular orange Kit Kat in a preposterously long box, and the Yubari melon Kit Kat, which tasted exactly like melon, was sold in a fancy gift box, and cost $200. Two-thirds of that is true.

Chris wanted to pretend he shopped and ate like a grown man. Slip the Kit-Kats under the spinach and no one’s any the wiser.

Signposts on the Gay Rapture Millions of unstylish people disappear, leaving their unfashionable clothes here on earth, and Eucharist wafers fall from the heavens like KITKAT bars.

You’re a taint-shaver? How have I never known?” Jacoby chokes on the water he just sipped from the bottle in his hand. “Wait, what? Are we really talking about KitKat’s taint?

Comer compulsivamente es la adicción que eligen las personas que tienen que cuidar de otros, y ése es el motivo de que se considere la adicción de menor rango. Es una manera de joderte a ti misma mientras te mantienes completamente operativa, porque no te queda más remedio. La gente gorda no se permite el «lujo» de que su adicción les convierta en alguien inútil, caótico, o en una carga. En vez de eso, se autodestruyen poco a poco sin molestar a nadie. Y esto explica que sea con tanta frecuencia una adicción elegida por las mujeres. Todas las mamás que comen sin hacer ruido. Todos los KitKats en el cajón de la oficina. Todos los momentos de infelicidad, a altas horas de la noche, captados sólo por la luz de la nevera.

is tall and rangy, with muscled thighs that start three inches apart. She looks like she probably runs up a mountain every day and doesn’t even know what a KitKat is.

Iain Pirie, Associate Professor in Politics and International Studies at Warwick University, argues that it’s not just the way women are represented in the media that’s helping to fuel this rise (a well-documented problem), but capitalism itself, which has corrupted our relationship with our own bodies and the food that sustains them. Pirie argues that the cycle of bingeing and purging that characterizes bulimia nervosa is similar to the accelerated and chaotic consumption that underpins modern culture and is vital for economic growth.18 The conflicting expectations placed on our bodies by advertisers – bombarding us with messages that food is a reward and a compensation (Have a break, have a KitKat), while at the same time telling us that not eating puts us higher on the moral and social hierarchy – are actually deadly.† Eating so much it hurts and then throwing it up in a fit of utter self-loathing is the perfect metaphor for consumerism.

FREYA: Snorri, darling. It’s been too long. [Air-kisses SS.] Mwah. Mwah. Miles, be a love and take—what was your name again, dear? WOMAN: Ag-Agnes. F: Hmm. [Taps finger on lips.] Are you quite certain Ag-Agnes is the name you want for the rest of your death? AG-AGNES: What do you mean the rest of my death? F: Maybe something a little perkier. Let’s see. [Strokes cats.] I think Kitty will do nicely. That’s what we’ll call you, my dear. KITTY: Who are you people? F: Miles, explain everything to Kitty, will you? M: I’m on it. [Fires a finger gun at SS.] Catch ya later, Athane. Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty! K: Seriously. What is going on? F: Oh, darling, don’t you see? You’re dead. K: I’m dead? M [grabbing Kitty in a headlock and giving her knuckle noogies]: Come on, Kit-Kat, it’s not so bad! K: I’m dead? [Miles and Kitty depart.]

KitKats

You’re a good girl, Kit-Kat,” he says before kissing me on the cheek. “You always have been. I should have told you that more. I regret that now. I regret a lot of things. But you? You’ve always been my pride and joy.

Abrió una barra de KitKat

A habzsolás a szociális segítők által preferált függőség, és ezért tartják minden függőség között a legalacsonyabb rendűnek. Ezzel úgy cseszheti szét magát az ember, hogy közben teljesen működőképes marad, mert muszáj. A kövérek nem engedhetik meg maguknak azt a „luxust”, hogy szenvedélyük hasznavehetetlenné, kaotikussá vagy kolonccá tegye őket. Ehelyett lassan úgy pusztítják el magukat, hogy azzal másnak nem okoznak kellemetlenséget. És ezért választják oly sokan a nők közül ezt a függőséget. Azok a titokban habzsoló anyukák. Az a sok KitKat az irodai fiókokban. Azok a boldogtalan, késő éjjeli pillanatok a hűtőszekrény fényében.