Packet Of Chips Quotes

Grateful for whatever you have, whether it’s a new car or a new packet of chips.

A bottle of wine. A family-sized packet of Nacho Cheese Flavoured Tortilla Chips and a jar of hot salsa dip. A packet of cigarettes on the side (I know, I know). The rain hammering against the windows. And a book. What could have been lovelier?

Whether we are trying to buy a packet of chips or getting to know a person for a potentially important relationship, its nice to have an overview of what it/he/she contains. - Of A Sense of Self

You know what? Who cares what normal is, Simone. Let's protest. From now on we're the anti-normal, anti-average, anti-standard. You can eat when you want to, I'll wear what I want, and we'll die with a packet of chips in our hand and a tablecloth on our head.

In cigarettes, we have pictures of blackened lungs on the packs. But packets of potato chips don’t bear the picture of an obese heart patient, right?

How do you expect me to provide you with a demon tear if I don’t have a body? I can’t cry you a goddamn river while stuck in a bronze reproduction of an ugly-ass alchemist. A dead one, at that.” “You can move your eyes,” Navin ventured. “And you’re a demon. Can’t you do some kind of demon magic and produce tears?” “Demon magic? Have you been eating Ironwood mushrooms? Demons don’t do magic. Demons curse. We tear apart reality and feed on the blood of innocents.” Navin shivered. “Stop being so dramatic. You’re hardly in the position to tear apart reality. You’d have trouble tearing open a packet of potato chips right now.” Newton made a horrific snorting sound that might have been laughter. “Ah, dear boy. And you said you weren’t interested in comedy. If only I could cry tears of laughter right now, we’d be peachy.” “Shut up a minute. I’m trying to think.” “I know. I can hear your two brain cells rubbing together.

A wretched and miserable job does not appal the middle classes so much as the behaviour exhibited by a person who does such a job – never mind that it is the dismal work that has often driven them to such behavior in the first place. From the perspective of a middle-class professional cocooned in a London office, the belief that workers gorge themselves on stooge, grease and sugar because they are feckless and irresolute makes sense. After all, a middle class person only indulges like this in a moment of weakness or as part of a rational cost/benefit calculation. He or she will 'treat themselves' to a chocolate bar or a slice of cake because they feel that they deserve it. It is the cherry placed on top of life itself: a rational decision representing a sugary part in the back. A working-class person, on the other hand, will buy a greasy packet of chips as an emotional escape from the present.

The vending machine lacked the willpower of the Western elevator, and it dutifully spat out several chocolate bars and a packet of salt and vinegar chips. I gave you more money than that, thought William, and the vending machine gave him some more.

I’ve given you money, he thought at the wonderful machine, now give me chocolate. The vending machine lacked the willpower of the Western elevator, and it dutifully spat out several chocolate bars and a packet of salt and vinegar chips. I gave you more money than that, thought William, and the vending machine gave him some more.

From an electrical engineering perspective, the messy stuff in between one and zero does travel down wires, through chips, and in packets. Computer switches are actually not either on or off. Both physically and electrically, computer switches, transistors, or logic circuits just have different levels of voltage to which engineers have assigned the values one or zero. Further up the chain of abstraction to software, one then starts to mean “true” and zero means “false.” But without human beings writing and interpreting software code, the computer itself is merely moving electrically charged ions around. The computer programs that are encoded as ones and zeros and “interpreted” by the circuits and logic gates on the chips do not actually mean anything to the computer. These machine instructions control how electricity moves on the circuits. On the other hand, machine instructions would mean nothing to a human because these are typically what has been termed “machine-readable.” The key is that the compilers, operating systems, memory, and fundamental circuitry of computers can translate human-readable words, software code, and numbers into machine instructions.

Ah, those picnics! They seem to be a thing of the past, now that you can drive almost anywhere and find a line of dhabas awaiting you. Few people today bother to prepare those delicate sandwiches or delicious parathas when packets of potato chips and other fast foods are to be found at every bend of the road.

Christstollen. I can shake away thoughts of favorite gifts and trips to Oma's house and building snowmen with Santa hats every Christmas Eve, as long as enough snow covered the ground. But my mother's stollen won't fall off as easily. She made it for my father; he ate the first piece with cream cheese at breakfast while I had bacon and chocolate chip pancakes and my mother drank her special amaretto tea. The recipe is there, tucked in her recipe box, the index card translucent in places from butter stains. I hold it in my hand, considering, reading the ingredients and pawing through the cupboards and pantry. We have raisins and a bag of dried cranberries from last year's Christmas baking. There's a wrinkled orange in the fruit bin, a couple plastic packets of lemon juice that came with one of my father's fish and chips take-out orders. No marzipan, almonds, candied fruit, or mace. I'll be up all night. It's too much effort. But the card won't seem to leave my hand. So I start, soaking the fruit and preparing the sponge.

As he listened his knew those beautiful notes would hit the classroom windows and fall unheard on the paving below, to be trodden into crisp packets and the sticky stuff from Wagon Wheels, the chocolate chipped from Curly Wurlys, and get blown into the concrete corner drain with that gutted tennis ball that lived there.

That’s perfectly all right. It doesn’t bother me at all to see Jerome. In fact, I have decided that the entire experience of dating him, even though it turned out to be a waste of time on one level, has actually, on another level, taught me a very valuable lesson.” “The importance of knowing five ways to kill a person without being caught?” Annie suggested. “It taught me,” Kate replied, “that romance is merely an illusion. On one level, it seems real, but on a higher, more evolved level, it is nothing but a projection of our own imaginations.” “Kate, you know that you only start going on about levels when you’re upset,” Sarah said. “And no one even understands what you’re talking about either.” “I,” Kate said, enunciating as clearly as possible, “am never going to fall in love again.” “Don’t be silly, Kate, you’re just upset right now.” Sarah patted Kate’s arm, then unwrapped another packet from her lunch. “Oh yay, chocolate chip. Want some?