“
Thanksgiving dinner's sad and thankless. Christmas dinner's dark and blue. When you stop and try to see it From the turkey's point of view.
Sunday dinner isn't sunny. Easter feasts are just bad luck. When you see it from the viewpoint of a chicken or a duck. Oh how I once loved tuna salad Pork and lobsters, lamb chops too Till I stopped and looked at dinner From the dinner's point of view.
”
”
Shel Silverstein
“
Otter! Otter! Otter!
Don’t lead cows to slaughter!
I love you, and I know
I should’ve told you soon-a
But you didn’t buy the dolphin-safe tuna!
”
”
T.J. Klune (Bear, Otter, and the Kid (Bear, Otter, and the Kid, #1))
“
Kau membunuh setiap pucuk perasaan itu. Tumbuh satu langsung kau pangkas. Bersemi satu langsung kau injak? Menyeruak satu langsung kau cabut tanpa ampun? Kau tak pernah memberi kesempatan. Karena itu tak mungkin bagimu? Kau malu mengakuinya walau sedang sendiri..Kau lupa, aku tumbuh menjadi dewasa seperti yang kau harapkan. Dan tunas-tunas perasaanmu tak bisa kaupangkas lagi. Semakin kau tikam, dia tumbuh dua kali lipatnya. Semakin kau injak, helai daun barunya semakin banyak.
”
”
Tere Liye (Daun Yang Jatuh Tak Pernah Membenci Angin)
“
I closed my eyes and curled my fists around the things I knew for sure:
That a scallop has thirty-five eyes, all blue.
That a tuna will suffocate if it ever stops swimming.
That I was loved.
That this time, it was not me who broke
”
”
Jodi Picoult (Handle with Care)
“
Otter. Otter. Otter,” I mutter. “Yes, Bear?” he says beautifully. “Don’t lead cows to slaughter,” I say. He arches an eyebrow. “Come again?” I take a deep breath. “I… love you and I know I should’ve told ya soon-a.” His eyes widen slightly. “Wait, what? You… me?” I shake my head. “But you didn’t buy the dolphin-safe tuna.” “Bear, what the hell? Did you just… rhyme?
”
”
T.J. Klune (Bear, Otter, and the Kid (Bear, Otter, and the Kid, #1))
“
REAL LIFE vs THE MOVIES
Breaking Up in the Movies:
Boy #1: This isn’t working out, is it?
Boy #2: Sort of not, huh?
Boy #1: You can’t say we didn’t try.
Boy #2: We sure did. Besides, we’re still best friends.
Boy #1: Forever.
Boy #2: This is terrific pasta.
Breaking Up for Real:
Boy #1: Are you asleep?
Boy #2: Does it sound like it?
Boy #1: I’m sorry about the tuna fish.
Boy #2: It isn’t the tuna fish! It’s the last six months!
Boy #1: You’re an asshole.
Boy #2: Let go of my cock.
”
”
Steve Kluger (Almost Like Being in Love)
“
Better to be happy with the cod fish in your plate now, than to linger for the taste of a tuna that is still swimming in the sea.
”
”
Dennis E. Adonis
“
Oh how I once loved tuna salad / Pork and lobsters, lamp chops too / Till I stopped and looked at dinner / From the dinner's point of view.
”
”
Shel Silverstein
“
I wish I were stronger and more secure in myself so that I could really spend my life with a guy like Lenny. Because he has a different kind of strength than Joshie. He has the strength of his sweet tuna arms. He has the strength of putting his nose in my hair and calling it home. He has the strength to cry when I go down on him. Who IS Lenny? Who DOES that? Who will ever open up to me like that again? No one. Because it's too dangerous. Lenny is a dangerous man. Joshie is more powerful, but Lenny is much more dangerous.
”
”
Gary Shteyngart (Super Sad True Love Story)
“
Today 5:14 p.m.
"Mrrrrrowl. Mrrrrrowl."
"Ow! Ow, stupid cat! Ahem. You told me, 'stop calling, Isabelle,' but I'm not the one calling you. Church is calling you. Mine are merely the fingers that work the phone.
"See, here's something you may not have known before you committed your recent rash acts. Our cat, Church, and your cat, Chairman Meow? They're in love. I've never seen such love before. I never knew such love could exist in the heart of a... cat. Some people say that love between two dude cats is wrong, but I think it's beautiful. Love makes Church happier than I've ever seen him. Nothing makes him happy like Chairman Meow. Not tuna. Not shredding centuries-old tapestries. Nothing. Please don't keep these cats apart. Please don't take the joy of love away from Church.
"Look, this is really just a warning for your own good. If you keep Church and Chairman Meow apart, Church will start to get angry.
"You wouldn't like Church when he's angry."
Beep
”
”
Cassandra Clare (The Bane Chronicles)
“
I don't know what it is about the food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.
”
”
Mitch Albom (For One More Day)
“
I closed my eyes and I thought of the lash of her skirt snapping around her as she danced one evening in a bar on the South Side to a jukebox that was playing “Barefootin’,” of the downy slope of her neck and the declivity in her nightgown as she bent to wash her face in the bathroom sink, of a tuna salad sandwich she’d handed me one windy afternoon as we sat at a picnic table in Lucia, California, and looked out for the passage of whales, and I felt that I loved Emily insofar as I loved those things – beyond reason, and with a longing that made me want to hang my head – but it was a love that felt an awful lot like nostalgia.
”
”
Michael Chabon (Wonder Boys)
“
I love salmon. Of all my fishy friends, I love salmon the best. Or trout. Or tuna. Or smelts. Oh heck. I love them ALL! But I have such fond memories of salmon. See, my dad was a fisherman. I mean a fanatic fisherman. Fishing was probably what he liked to do most (along with gardening and riding horses and camping in the Sierra and bowling and… ) But honestly, folks, fishing was probably the winner for leisure-time activities.
”
”
Mallory M. O'Connor (The Kitchen and the Studio: A Memoir of Food and Art)
“
We got passes, till midnight after the parade. I met Muriel at the Biltmore at seven. Two drinks, two drugstore tuna-fish sandwiches, then a movie she wanted to see, something with Greer Garson in it. I looked at her several times in the dark when Greer Garson’s son’s plane was missing in action. Her mouth was opened. Absorbed, worried. The identification with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer tragedy complete. I felt awe and happiness. How I love and need her undiscriminating heart. She looked over at me when the children in the picture brought in the kitten to show to their mother. M. loved the kitten and wanted me to love it. Even in the dark, I could sense that she felt the usual estrangement from me when I don’t automatically love what she loves. Later, when we were having a drink at the station, she asked me if I didn’t think that kitten was ‘rather nice.’ She doesn’t use the word ‘cute’ any more. When did I ever frighten her out of her normal vocabulary? Bore that I am, I mentioned R. H. Blyth’s definition of sentimentality: that we are being sentimental when we give to a thing more tenderness than God gives to it. I said (sententiously?) that God undoubtedly loves kittens, but not, in all probability, with Technicolor bootees on their paws. He leaves that creative touch to script writers. M. thought this over, seemed to agree with me, but the ‘knowledge’ wasn’t too very welcome. She sat stirring her drink and feeling unclose to me. She worries over the way her love for me comes and goes, appears and disappears. She doubts its reality simply because it isn’t as steadily pleasurable as a kitten. God knows it is sad. The human voice conspires to desecrate everything on earth.
”
”
J.D. Salinger (Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction)
“
A blanket could be used to trap and contain love. I’ve tried other stuff, like a Ziploc bag, a can of tuna, and even a dead cat’s stomach, but nothing seems to be able to hold it for very long.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (Brick and Blanket Test in Brick City (Ocala) Florida)
“
Heart as collapsed time, as a dug-up grave, as simple machine. Heart as big black bugs bleed blue blood. Heart as MI frozen as seen from airplane, everything still and white and beautiful. Heart as the Day the Music Died. Heart as love being made, as fucking, as a pleasantly haunted house. Heart as a dim memory of a dark room in which you’re molded wetasscracked into a beanbag chair, fumbling for wetness. Come hither. Heart as a cunt’s supposed to smell like tuna. Heart as the star of the sea. Heart as a pussy in permanent bloom. Heart as doxycycline. Heart as waxwings, as a fudge round, as the phone rings once and then stops. Heart as throw your hands in the air, throw your art at the stars, stutter and stare. Heart as a Stratocaster. Heart as Twin Reverb. Heart as I heart you so much. Heart as all that we thought we knew in the world disappears into vapor. Heart as the rest of your life times the weight of the world squared.
”
”
Bryan Charles (Grab On To Me Tightly As If I Knew The Way)
“
So while I drove my little and planned his fantasy night of how I was going to give Otter the key to my soul (his words, not mine), I silently panicked and wrote lines of bad poetry. Normally, I am quite adept at writing poems and lyrics to songs I'l never sing, but this stuff was just atrocious. For example:
I love you
You love me
Thank God for that
I'm so happy
And Ty's personal favorite (which he helped me on):
Otter! Otter! Otter!
Don't lead cows to slaughter
I love you and I know
I should've told you soon-a
But you didn't buy the dolphin-safe tuna!
TY asked me if I got the hidden message in his poem. I told him it was loud and clear.
”
”
T.J. Klune (Bear, Otter, and the Kid (Bear, Otter, and the Kid, #1))
“
But part of love is a record playing, a needle that drops over and over, repeat and repeat, until the voices are scratched and the song is tired. But that's all right, all the scratches and skips, the knowing what line comes next. Sometimes a song just gets you You know?
”
”
Esm�aji Codell
“
Because he’s in love with my sister which makes him about as appealing to me as a three day old tuna sandwich – no offence,” I tossed at Darius and he smirked. “You’re an old tuna sandwich to me too, Gwen,” he agreed and I punched him over the name, but couldn’t fight a smirk.
”
”
Caroline Peckham (Fated Throne (Zodiac Academy, #6))
“
For every ten tuna, sharks, and other large predatory fish that were in our oceans fifty to a hundred years ago, only one is left.
”
”
Jonathan Safran Foer (Eating Animals)
“
The clear liquid in our eyes is seawater and therefore there are fish in our eyes, seawater being the natural medium of fish. Since blue and green are the colours of the richest seawater, blue and green eyes are the fishiest. Dark eyes are somewhat less fecund and albino eyes are nearly fishless, sadly so. But the quantity of fish in an eye means nothing. A single tigerfish can be as beautiful, as powerful, as an entire school of seafaring tuna. That science has never observed ocular fish does nothing to refute my theory; on the contrary, it emphasizes the key hypothesis, which is: love is the food of eye fish and only love will bring them out. So to look closely into someone's eyes with cold, empirical interest is like the rude tap-tap of a finder on an aquarium, which only makes the fish flee. In a similar vein, when I took to looking at myself closely in mirrors during the turmoil of adolescence, the fact that I saw nothing in my eyes, not even the smallest guppy or tadpole, said something about my unhappiness and lack of faith in myself at the time.
...I no longer believe in eye fish in [i]fact[/i], but still do in metaphor. In the passion of an embrace, when breath, the win, is at its loudest and skin at its saltiest, I still nearly think that I could stop things and hear, feel, the rolling of the sea. I am still nearly convinced that, when my love and I kiss, we will be blessed with the sight of angelfish and sea-horses rising to the surface of our eyes, these fish being the surest proof of our love. In spite of everything, I sill profoundly believe that love is something oceanic.
”
”
Yann Martel (Self)
“
I don't know what love is, but I know what love isn't. Love isn't a peanut butter and tuna sandwich, because no young man should spend his time searching for his "once in a lifetime." Take it from me, a love like that doesn't exist. And if it did, I'd have already eaten it.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (This Book is Not for Sale)
“
But in the end we found it impossible to ignore the impassioned pleas of the Lost City of White Male Privilege, a controversial municipality whose very existence is often denied by many (mostly privileged white males). Others state categorically that the walls of the locale have been irreparably breached by hip-hop and Roberto Bolaño’s prose. That the popularity of the spicy tuna roll and a black American president were to white male domination what the smallpox blankets were to Native American existence. Those inclined to believe in free will and the free market argue that the Lost City of White Male Privilege was responsible for its own demise, that the constant stream of contradictory religious and secular edicts from on high confused the highly impressionable white male. Reduced him to a state of such severe social and psychic anxiety that he stopped fucking. Stopped voting. Stopped reading. And, most important, stopped thinking that he was the end-all, be-all, or at least knew enough to pretend not to be so in public. But in any case, it became impossible to walk the streets of the Lost City of White Male Privilege, feeding your ego by reciting mythological truisms like “We built this country!” when all around you brown men were constantly hammering and nailing, cooking world-class French meals, and repairing your cars. You couldn’t shout “America, love it or leave it!” when deep down inside you longed to live in Toronto.
”
”
Paul Beatty (The Sellout)
“
And everywhere, just as there were animals on land, were the animals of the sea.
The tiniest fish made the largest schools- herring, anchovies, and baby mackerel sparkling and cavorting in the light like a million diamonds. They twirled into whirlpools and flowed over the sandy floor like one large, unlikely animal.
Slightly larger fish came in a rainbow, red and yellow and blue and orange and purple and green and particolored like clowns: dragonets and blennies and gobies and combers.
Hake, shad, char, whiting, cod, flounder, and mullet made the solid middle class.
The biggest loners, groupers and oarfish and dogfish and the major sharks and tuna that all grew to a large, ripe old age did so because they had figured out how to avoid human boats, nets, lines, and bait. The black-eyed predators were well aware they were top of the food chain only down deep, and somewhere beyond the surface there were things even more hungry and frightening than they.
Rounding out the population were the famous un-fish of the ocean: the octopus, flexing and swirling the ends of her tentacles; delicate jellyfish like fairies; lobsters and sea stars; urchins and nudibranchs... the funny, caterpillar-like creatures that flowed over the ocean floor wearing all kinds of colors and appendages.
All of these creatures woke, slept, played, swam about, and lived their whole lives under the sea, unconcerned with what went on above them.
But there were other animals in this land, strange ones, who spoke both sky and sea. Seals and dolphins and turtles and the rare fin whale would come down to hunt or talk for a bit and then vanish to that strange membrane that separated the ocean from everything else. Of course they were loved- but perhaps not quite entirely trusted.
”
”
Liz Braswell (Part of Your World)
“
...but in 1917 we had no cares except the mundane ones of starvation and occupation and civil war, and for those of us in our armored trains traveling up and down the front waging brilliant campaigns, or for our young Natashas and Alyoshas experiencing the education and class steeling of the Komsomol for the first time, learning to ask in every historical situation: How many workers are there? how many peasants, intellectuals? how do they stand on this issue? it was a very exciting and romantic period; what I am getting at is that probably no one felt alone as Bug had felt alone; for everyone worked together and loved each other- oh, I hope that that was true. For if life is worth living at all you can have your cake and eat it, too (съесть ее тунцом as the Russians say, и ее мудак- literally to eat out her tuna and her asshole); when you fight together you feel together; love and politics go hand in hand, and I can demonstrate this feasibly with another linguistic point. A girl's cherry is her tsélka. Raskobót cya kak tsélochka, to pop like a little cherry, means in fact to crack under interrogation. I want to draw your attention, comrades, to that highly significant trope.
”
”
William T. Vollmann (You Bright and Risen Angels (Contemporary American Fiction))
“
This,bellissima," Nonna began, "is true love story...
"The Costas, we were born to the sea and proud, very proud. Son after father after son build their boats and follow the fish.My bisnonno, father of my nonno, is proudest of all. He is the only son of a widowed mother-king of the sea.But he is...ppffftt..." Nonna blew out a breath and fluttered her fingers maybe an inch or two above her own head. "Basso. Piccolo. When he was young, his uncles and cousins at first fear to take him on board.They think the smallest of waves or biggest of tono...tono...What is it?"
"Tuna," I said.
"Si. Silly word. A tuna would flip him from the boat. But no one looks down on him. Ah, you laugh, you. Go on, laugh. They are not much bigger than he. So he is little, but he is proud, because his boat sails highest on the waves and soon brings in the most fish. Like gold, it makes him rich. And when a man becomes rich, he must think of marriage, or the village mamas will think of it for him. Capisci?"
I smiled. "Yeah, I get it. 'It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."
"Ah,si!" Nonna nodded, delighted. "Austen.So smart."
"You know Pride and Prejudice?" I asked. She flicked my ear. "Ow!
”
”
Melissa Jensen (The Fine Art of Truth or Dare)
“
WHEN YOU CROW UP IN KANSAS WEARING VERY LARGE SHORTS, thinking not very much of yourself, thinking mainly of your knees, looking mainly at your knees, your face a frisbee that cant fly, your teeth buck, your eyebrows rectangles, your forehead more than half of your face, your shirts shapeless, your shape shapeless, your Kansas shapeless, your lust absent, your legs bowed, your arches flat, your chest flat, your ears your only curves, your ears never pierced, your denim never dazzled, your sneakers white, your socks white, your teeth turquoise with rubber bands, your cheese orange, your milk whole, your bread wonder, your luxury a tuna casserole, your pale a neon pale, your fantasy to race a Mario Kart over the desert and into the final oasis, your earthly oasis a salted pretzel, your solitude total, your urges not even visible to you on the clearest days at the farthest horizons, your blank magnificent, your inertia wild and authentic, your nothing your preference, and then into it somebody walks, a Joan, this sudden hero can really take control.
You’re susceptible first to idolatry, then to study, to apprenticeship, and finally to a kind of patient love that makes fun of itself and believes in itself without limit. Imagine being a pudding cup of a person and encountering a confident, elegant, powerful scholar who knows what to do with her shoulders. Imagine encountering you.
”
”
Rebecca Dinerstein Knight (Hex)
“
In the half darkness, piles of fish rose on either side of him, and the pungent stink of fish guts assaulted his nostrils. On his left hung a whole tuna, its side notched to the spine to show the quality of the flesh. On his right a pile of huge pesce spada, swordfish, lay tumbled together in a crate, their swords protruding lethally to catch the legs of unwary passersby. And on a long marble slab in front of him, on a heap of crushed ice dotted here and there with bright yellow lemons, where the shellfish and smaller fry. There were ricco di mare---sea urchins---in abundance, and oysters, too, but there were also more exotic delicacies---polpi, octopus; aragosti, clawless crayfish; datteri di mare, sea dates; and grancevole, soft-shelled spider crabs, still alive and kept in a bucket to prevent them from making their escape. Bruno also recognized tartufo di mare, the so-called sea truffle, and, right at the back, an even greater prize: a heap of gleaming cicale.
Cicale are a cross between a large prawn and a small lobster, with long, slender front claws. Traditionally, they are eaten on the harbor front, fresh from the boat. First their backs are split open. Then they are marinated for an hour or so in olive oil, bread crumbs, salt, and plenty of black pepper, before being grilled over very hot embers. When you have pulled them from the embers with your fingers, you spread the charred, butterfly-shaped shell open and guzzle the meat col bacio----"with a kiss," leaving you with a glistening mustache of smoky olive oil, greasy fingers, and a tingling tongue from licking the last peppery crevices of the shell.
Bruno asked politely if he could handle some of the produce. The old man in charge of the display waved him on. He would have expected nothing less. Bruno raised a cicala to his nose and sniffed. It smelled of ozone, seaweed, saltwater, and that indefinable reek of ocean coldness that flavors all the freshest seafood. He nodded. It was perfect.
”
”
Anthony Capella (The Food of Love)
“
As the umbrellas went up in a sudden flowering, the sun came out, and we were glad. The pigeons flapped and scratched and cooed; there were shiny puddles on the sidewalk; dogs sniffed the freshly washed scents. Pink powder puffs hung from the trees; wind blew.
Poor bedraggled Rosa. The umbrella always seemed blow itself inside out. It was difficult to carry the packages from the market and the umbrella at the same time. I kept juggling. I wouldn't allow myself to drop the fresh eggs, no. Or the green cauliflower, ripe yet firm. The delicate rose-colored tuna wrapped in paper; silky skin, so tender to the touch.
It was essential to get to market early, before work, while everything was fresh, before it had been picked over and pawed by housewives. I loved my daily visits to the market, seeing all of nature's bounty beautifully arranged for me to choose from. The aroma of the fresh peas, mint, and basil mingled with the smell of raw meat hanging at the butcher's and reminded me of my early life on the farm.
”
”
Lily Prior (La Cucina)
“
Half an avocado, stuffed. One of my new faves! Here are some tantalizing combinations to try on top of half an avocado: 1 scoop of egg, tuna, or salmon salad; 2 tablespoons of your favorite hummus; 1 baked egg.
”
”
Kelly LeVeque (Body Love)
“
My lips twitched as I tried to decide if I wanted to burst into laughter or tears.
"That's OK," Jim said, leaning against me, leaving a little puddle of drool on the top of my shoe. "We won't think bad of you just because no one's ever parked the pink Plymouth in your garage of love."
"Jim!" Aisling said, whapping it on the butt with the magazine.
"What? I said it politely! Would you have preferred 'ride the skin bus to Tuna Town '?"
"No!"
I wondered if it would be possible to strangle a demon to death.
"Windsurfing on Mount Baldy?"
"That's it!" Aisling bellowed, pointing a finger at the demon. "One more euphemism, and you're spending a week in the Akasha.
”
”
Katie MacAlister (Playing With Fire (Silver Dragons, #1))
“
Laid out on the rustic farm table that sits to the side of Maria's enormous kitchen island is a lovely spread of fresh-looking salads. Wheat-berry salad, what looks like a Greek salad, asparagus, a platter of beautifully arranged fruit, and some cooked tuna steaks. "This looks amazing!" I've been mired in fall comfort foods for work, all braised and hearty, and it is very exciting to see such fresh and light fare for a change.
”
”
Stacey Ballis (Off the Menu)
“
Cut down on dairy. While dairy products have become increasingly popular in Japan, particularly in the latter half of the 20th century, the Japanese dairy intake is still considerably lower than that of other countries, particularly the UK and USA. Dairy has been known to cause sinus issues, as well as heightened cholesterol. Instead of drinking milk, I often drink soya milk. It took a while to get used to the difference in taste, but I now love it and have it with everything – from a cup of tea to my morning cereal! Eat smaller portions. One thing I noticed since coming back from Japan was the humungous size of meals in the UK. In Japanese culture, it's common to be presented with a variety of smaller dishes which you can help yourself to. That way, you can eat just the right amount for you without stuffing yourself silly – something we have a habit of doing in the Western world. Several studies have suggested that by eating smaller portions, you avoid bloating and give your digestive system a break – it can certainly help you lose a bit of weight as well! Eat a lot of fish! I know that several of you are allergic to fish or simply do not like the taste. That's fine – there are certainly alternatives, but numerous studies have shown the correlation between eating fish and one's mental health. In particular, oily fish such as mackerel, sardines, fresh (not canned) tuna and even salmon have a high reputation for being excellent ‘brain-boosters’. I
”
”
Darren Sims (Conquering Health Anxiety: How To Break Free From The Hypochondria Trap)
“
On my day off, I rarely want to eat restaurant food unless I'm looking for new ideas or recipes to steal. What I want to eat is home cooking, somebody's anybody's - mother's or grandmother's food. A simple pasta pomodoro made with love, a clumsily thrown-together tuna casserole, roast beef with Yorkshire
”
”
Anthony Bourdain (Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly)
“
I am the egg salad sandwich of love. The only problem is, I’m in the mood for a tuna fish sandwich—hold the mercury.
”
”
Jarod Kintz (99 Cents For Some Nonsense)
“
Wriggling out of his grasp she braced herself on his shoulders and tried to stand. Next thing she knew, he had her around the legs and took her down to the mattress in some sort of super-fast ninja move. She screamed and laughed, and he was laughing every bit as hard as he came down on top of her. And, oh God, his laughter was a sweet and sexy rumble that lit her up inside.
“You fight dirty, Easy,” she said around her chuckles.
“I haven’t had this much fun in so long.”
She caressed his face with her fingers. “Me neither. Between overloading on classes and my epilepsy, I often feel like a little old lady trapped in the body of a twenty-year-old. All I need is some cats.”
“Cats are awesome,” he said. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak stray cats into the house, just for a night or two. I’d keep them in my room and bring up bowls of milk and cans of tuna for them.”
“Aw, you were a sweet little boy, weren’t you?” she asked, loving how he was opening up to her. The closeness, the sharing, the way his big body was lying on her legs and hips, leading him to prop his head up on her lower stomach—both her heart and her body reacted.
“Maybe for about five minutes.” He winked. “Mostly, I was a hell-raiser. Growing up, we didn’t live in the best neighborhood. Drug dealers on the corner, gang activity trying to pull in even the younger kids, crack house one block over. All that. Trouble wasn’t hard to find.” He shrugged. “Army straightened me out, though.”
“Well, we lived in a nice neighborhood growing up and here my father was the freaking drug dealer on the corner. Or close enough, anyway.” Jenna stared at the ceiling and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get serious.”
His thumb stroked along her side, sliding the cotton of her borrowed shirt against her skin in a way that almost tickled. “Don’t apologize. Our histories are what they are, you know?”
She nodded and gave him a little smile. “Yeah.”
Shifting off her, Easy stretched out alongside her and propped his head up on his arm. “I’m thirty, Jenna,” he said out of nowhere.
And he was telling her this because? He thought their age difference was too great? He thought she was too young? He was worried she would think he was too old? Probably D) all of the above. Thing was, all she saw when she looked at Easy was a guy she really freaking liked. One who’d saved her life, helped make her sister safe, and gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in years. He was hot as hell, easy to talk to, and one of the kindest guys she’d ever known. Maybe some of that was because he was older. Who knew?
“And I need to know this because?” she asked, resting her head on her arm.
The muscles of his shoulders lifted into a shrug, but his face was contemplative. “Because there’s clearly something going on between us.”
Heat rushed across her body. She held up a hand, and he laced his fingers between hers. “When I look at you, I don’t see a bunch of differences, Easy.”
“What do you see then?”
Warmth flooded into Jenna’s cheeks, and she chuckled. He’d said that she was beautiful, after all, so why couldn’t she give him a compliment in return? “A really hot guy I’d like to get to know more.”
A smug smile slipped onto his face, and she might’ve rolled her eyes if it weren’t so damn sexy. “Really hot, huh?”
“Well, kinda hot, anyway.”
“Nuh-uh,” he said, tugging her hand to his chest. “Can’t take it back now.”
Cheeks burning and big smile threatening, she rolled onto her side to face him.
They lay there, side by side, her chest almost touching his, looking at each other. Tension and desire and anticipation crackled in the space between them, making it hard to breathe.
“What do you see when you look at me?” she whispered, half-afraid to ask but even more curious to hear what he’d say. Did he mostly see someone who was too young for him? Or a needy girl he had to save and babysit?
”
”
Laura Kaye (Hard to Hold on To (Hard Ink, #2.5))
“
LEDERHOSEN BACK IN THE SUITCASE – THEY WEREN’T MUCH HELP – I’M READY to leave. I started my journey in the most gorgeous of architectures in Jerusalem, and I end it in the most ravished of places, in Jenin. I started with Kings, David and Herod, and I end with Haifa Refugees. When I started the journey I was awed, when I end it I’m dismayed; when I started my journey laughter was my companion, when I end it a tear joins me; when I started this journey hope was my neighbor, when I end it despair stares me in the face. Witnessing the tremendous investments and endless attempts of the Europeans, not to mention the Germans, all geared to undermine the Jews in this land, in Israel, was an extremely unsettling experience. Being showered with love by the Arabs, just because they thought I was an Aryan, a German, was very discomforting. Watching the Jews and seeing how powerless they are, even now that they have their own state, was distressing. If logic is any guide, Israel will not survive. Besieged by hate from without and from within, no land can survive for very long. Miraculously, the Jews have built one of the most sophisticated, intense, beautiful countries of our time, but what are they doing to keep it? They hate themselves, they belie themselves, they are full of fears and many of them rush to get another passport; they want to go back to Poland, to Austria, to Germany – lands where their forefathers were hunted down and killed. And what am I doing? Just the same: I am going back to Germany. Am I a Jew just like them? Am I not Tobi the German? Am I not Abu Ali? My name is, sorry, Tuvia. Goodness of God. What a joke. A joke, I fear, only the Chosen People will truly comprehend. Adios, my sweet cats. You, of all creatures of this land, have a clear and sensible direction: milk and tuna. I am thankful that we met, for you have provided me with companionship in a land I felt so alone in. I am leaving this land, and I am leaving you. You will fare better here. You are Jewish cats, stay with your kind. Enjoy this land, my stray cats, as long as it lasts. I’ll miss you terribly. Shalom.
”
”
Tuvia Tenenbom (Catch The Jew!: Eye-opening education - You will never look at Israel the same way again)
“
I guess since he keeps on kissing me I'm not a total failure at it; he's never pulled away in horror or gagged or anything. But then, aren't guys so perpetually sex-starved that making out with a slab of tuna would still be better than getting no action at all?
”
”
Jody Gehrman (Triple Shot Bettys in Love (Triple Shot Bettys, #2))
“
I’m also not a vegetarian. Even as a sheltered suburbanite, I knew that meat wasn’t something that started life wrapped in plastic. I knew the cows didn’t jump off a cliff, despondent over a lost love. I knew the chickens didn’t wring their own necks. And I was pretty sure the fish didn’t commit suicide by jumping out of the ocean into waiting nets for the privilege of appearing in my tuna sandwich. Even now, the free-rangiest chicken ends up dead on my plate, despite the momentary illusion that he was out there running wild and living the good life. Not like those sorry bastards stuck in the coop.
”
”
Ian Gurvitz (WELCOME TO DUMBFUCKISTAN: The Dumbed-Down, Disinformed, Dysfunctional, Disunited States of America)
“
Between 1945 and 1982 alone, the world’s whaling fleets harvested some two million great whales, while fishing vessels in the eastern Pacific knowingly killed more than six million dolphins in the process of catching yellowfin tuna—a method called “fishing on porpoise.” During these same years, the whaling nations regularly targeted orcas, with Norway killing more than 2,000 and Japan another 1,500.
”
”
Jason M. Colby (Orca: How We Came to Know and Love the Ocean's Greatest Predator)
“
Nights, they barbecue on the strips of lawn between the cottages, usually pooling their resources, grill hamburgs and hot dogs. Or maybe during the day one of the guys walks over to the docks to see what’s fresh and that night they grill tuna or bluefish or boil some lobsters. Other nights they walk down to Dave’s Dock, sit at a table out on the big deck that overlooks Gilead, across the narrow bay. Dave’s doesn’t have a liquor license, so they bring their own bottles of wine and beer, and Danny loves sitting out there watching the fishing boats, the lobstermen, or the Block Island Ferry come in as he eats chowder and fish-and-chips and greasy clam cakes. It’s pretty and peaceful out there as the sun softens and the water glows in the dusk. Some nights they just walk home after dinner, gather in each other’s cottages for more cards and conversations; other times maybe they drive over to Mashanuck Point, where there’s a bar, the Spindrift. Sit and have a few drinks and listen to some local bar band, maybe dance a little, maybe not. But usually the whole gang ends up there and it’s always a lot of laughs until closing time.
”
”
Don Winslow (City on Fire (Danny Ryan, #1))
“
Think of your product as a fishing net. You have a theory that your net is good for catching grouper, but you haven’t fished with it yet so you aren’t certain what you might catch. At first, you’ll want to go where there are lots of different fish and see what you pull up. If you notice over time you’re pulling in a lot of tuna, not grouper, you can move to the tuna spot and do the same amount of work to get a lot more fish. If you had positioned your tuna net as a grouper net in the beginning, you might never have figured out your best positioning. Positioning your net broadly as a “fish net” when you have little market experience is the best way to keep your options open until you have enough customer experience to start seeing patterns.
”
”
April Dunford (Obviously Awesome: How to Nail Product Positioning so Customers Get It, Buy It, Love It)
“
Honey and Hickory meant the world to her, but she’d put everything on the line for those she cared about. Misjudged her? Oh yeah. He may as well have compared canned tuna to an ahi steak. She fought for what she wanted, yes. And fought just as hard for others.
”
”
Chandra Blumberg (Stirring Up Love (Taste of Love, #2))
“
Evangeline,” Lisa said. “I like you better like this.” “You would,” Daphne scoffed. “Where is Uncle Jack tonight?” “He's got a date,” Evangeline said. “He asked me to watch Ruby till y'all came home. I was about to start supper, but I’m going to have to rethink what we are going to eat. I've only got six pork chops.” “Don't worry, Evangeline. There's plenty to eat. We just need to adjust a little,” Jen said. She walked down a short hallway that led to the laundry room and disappeared into a closet that had been turned into a pantry. She emerged a moment later carrying an arm full of ingredients. She put two bags of noodles on the counter, along with four cans of tuna and two cans of cream of mushroom soup. Then went back to get a box of breadcrumbs. “Tuna noodle casserole?” Charlie asked. “Yep,” Jen said. “Quick, easy, and a crowd pleaser.” “Yeah, my thighs are going to be real pleased,” Lisa quipped. “Oh hush,” Jen said. “You can run it off tomorrow.” “I love tuna noodle casserole,” Daphne smiled. “Honestly though, I can't remember the last time I had it.” “That's because you eat too much take out, sweetie,” Evangeline said. “So, anything I can do to help?” “Could you check the fridge for sour cream and Parmesan cheese, please? And there should be a bag of frozen peas in the freezer,” Jen said, inclining her head in that direction. Charlie handed one of the three journals from Edwina’s box to Lisa and the other one to Daphne. “Come on, let's start looking through these while they’re making dinner.” Charlie sat at the end of the table with Lisa and Daphne flanking her, and they each began to flip through the pages of Edwina’s most private thoughts. Ruby walked into the kitchen and placed herself between Charlie and Lisa. Ruby glanced up at the clock. “Aunt Lisa, will you come upstairs and read me a story?” Jen ripped open the packages of noodles and poured them into a pot of hot water. “Ruby Ellen, you've already had a story. Why are you out of bed?” “I can't sleep, Mama,” Ruby said. Lisa
”
”
Wendy Wang (Shadow Child (Witches of Palmetto Point #6))
“
i need some food i have to think about this i want everybody to love each other so where is my coke it is a nice day i am sitting at the restaurant i just got a tuna melt earlier my brother got me some gas and cigarettes i am feeling quite good about myself this warning i am not sure i understand it i want to do something good i don't see how it can be prevented so i forget the warning now...
”
”
wi fi (quote code yes)
“
Listen. You better stop treating me like I’m Jessica Simpson and I don’t know the difference between tuna and chicken…of the sea… Circa 2003.
”
”
Trilina Pucci (Knot So Lucky (Destination Love, #1))
“
O paradise, to lie in the hammock with one’s book and drink,
not hearing the murmur of consternation as it moves progressively
up the decibel scale. Yet I see you are uncertain where to locate me:
here I am. And I’ve done more thinking about you than you perhaps realize,
yes, a sight more than you’ve done about me. Which reminds me:
when are we going to get together? I mean really—not just for a
drink and a smoke, but really
invade each other’s privacy in a significant way that will make sense
and later amends to both of us for having done so, for I am
short of the mark despite my bluster and my swaggering,
have no real home and no one to inhabit it except you
whom I am in danger of losing permanently as a bluefish slips off
the deck of a ship, as a tuna flounders, but say, you know all that.
What kind of a chump do you think I am, anyway? I would like your
attention, not just your eyes and face. I would like to tell you
how much I love you. I’m a sap for trying, but down deep
in the bowels of the ship we hear something, don’t you agree, that
tells us where we went off course and what we must do to
get back on it only now it’s too late
”
”
John Ashbery (Flow Chart)
“
We have pretzels and mustard. We have doughnuts. And if we really, really like you, we have chips and dip. This is fun food. It isn't stuffy. It isn't going to make anyone nervous. The days of the waiter as a snob, the days of the menu as an exam/ the guest has to pass are over. But at the same time, we're not talking about cellophane bags here, are we? These are hand-cut potato chips with crème fraîche and a dollop of beluga caviar. This is the gift we send out. It's better than Christmas."
He offered the plate to Adrienne and she helped herself to a long, golden chip. She scooped up a tiny amount of the glistening black caviar. Just tasting it made her feel like a person of distinction.
Adrienne hoped the menu meeting might continue in this vein- with the staff tasting each ambrosial dish. But there wasn't time; service started in thirty minutes. Thatcher wanted to get through the menu.
"The corn chowder and the shrimp bisque are cream soups, but neither of these soups is heavy. The Caesar is served with pumpernickel croutons and white anchovies. The chèvre salad is your basic mixed baby greens with a round of breaded goat cheese, and the candy-striped beets are grown locally at Bartlett Farm. Ditto the rest of the vegetables, except for the portobello mushrooms that go into the ravioli- those are flown in from Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. So when you're talking about vegetables, you're talking about produce that's grown in Nantucket soil, okay? It's not sitting for thirty-six hours on the back of a truck. Fee selects them herself before any of you people are even awake in the morning. It's all very Alice Waters, what we do here with our vegetables." Thatcher clapped his hands. He was revving up, getting ready for the big game. In the article in Bon Appétit, Thatcher had mentioned that the only thing he loved more than his restaurant was college football.
"Okay, okay!" he shouted. It wasn't a menu meeting; it was a pep rally! "The most popular item on the menu is the steak frites. It is twelve ounces of aged New York strip grilled to order- and please note you need a temperature on that- served with a mound of garlic fries. The duck, the sword, the lamb lollipops- see, we're having fun here- are all served at the chef's temperature. If you have a guest who wants the lamb killed- by which I mean well done- you're going to have to take it up with Fiona. The sushi plate is spelled out for you- it's bluefin tuna caught forty miles off the shore, and the sword is harpooned in case you get a guest who has just seen a Nova special about how the Canadian coast is being overfished.
”
”
Elin Hilderbrand (The Blue Bistro)
“
He sold smoked bluefish pâté and cocktail sauce, lemons, asparagus, corn on the cob, sun-dried tomato pesto, and fresh pasta. He sold Ben & Jerry's, Nantucket Nectars, frozen loaves of French bread. It was a veritable grocery store; before, it had just been fish. Marguerite inspected the specimens in the refrigerated display case; even the fish had changed. There were soft-shell crabs and swordfish chunks ("great for kebabs"); there was unshelled lobster meat selling for $35.99 a pound; there were large shrimp, extra-large shrimp, and jumbo shrimp available with shell or without, cooked or uncooked. But then there were the Dusty staples- the plump, white, day-boat scallops, the fillets of red-purple tuna cut as thick as a paperback novel, the Arctic char and halibut and a whole striped bass that, if Marguerite had to guess, Dusty had caught himself off of Great Point that very morning.
”
”
Elin Hilderbrand (The Love Season)
“
We Called Him Monsieur R. Dovid Aaron Neuman currently lives with his family in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. He was interviewed in November, 2013, and shared the following remarkable story which happened during the war. “...In the midst of all this chaos and upheaval, my family was forced to split up.... I was sent to an orphanage in Marseilles. The orphanage housed some forty or maybe fifty children, many of them as young as three and four years old. Some of them knew that their parents had been killed; others didn’t know what became of them. Often, you would hear children crying, calling out for their parents who were not there to answer. As the days wore on, the situation grew more and more desperate, and food became more and more scarce. Many a day we went hungry. “And then, in the beginning of the summer of 1941, a man came to the rescue. We did not know his name; we just called him “Monsieur,” which is French for “Mister.” Every day, Monsieur would arrive with bags of bread—the long French baguettes—and tuna or sardines, sometimes potatoes as well. He would stay until every child had eaten. Some of the kids were so despondent that they didn’t want to eat. He used to put those children on his lap, tell them a story, sing to them, and feed them by hand. He made sure everyone was fed. With some of the kids, he’d sit next to them on the floor and cajole them to eat, even feeding them with a spoon, if need be. He was like a father to these sad little children. He knew every child by name, even though we didn’t know his. We loved him and looked forward to his coming. Monsieur came back day after day for several weeks. And I would say that many of the children who lived in the orphanage at that time owe their lives to him. If not for him, I, for one, wouldn’t be here. Eventually the war ended, and I was reunited with my family. We left Europe and began our lives anew. In 1957, I came to live in New York, and that’s when my uncle suggested that I meet the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Of course I agreed and scheduled a time for an audience with the Rebbe’s secretary. At the appointed date, I came to the Chabad Headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway and sat down to wait. I read some Psalms and watched the parade of men and women from all walks of life who had come to see the Rebbe. Finally, I was told it was my turn, and I walked into the Rebbe’s office. He was smiling, and immediately greeted me: “Dos iz Dovidele!—It’s Dovidele!” I thought, “How does he know my name?” And then I nearly fainted. I was looking at Monsieur. The Rebbe was Monsieur! And he had recognized me before I had recognized him.
”
”
Mendel Kalmenson (Positivity Bias)
“
At sea, I was the captain. I was important, and I had a role. I ran the show. At home, I was the swab. I did the shit work, almost always unappreciated. I loved my family, but man did I hate being on land all the time. I tried my best, I honestly did. I really stepped up my game around the house to be the best dad and partner I could be. It just was never good enough. With no offshore fishing and encouragement at home, part of me was dead inside, the part that made me who I am. I missed my boat daily. Flashbacks were a constant. I daydreamed of foaming schools of tuna while washing bubbly dishes. I saw mahi mahi boldly charging baits as I folded brightly colored laundry. When I went jogging and my heart started pumping, I saw huge marlin going wild on the gaffs. Everything reminded me of the boat. I most likely honestly had post-traumatic stress from the whole ordeal
”
”
Kenton Geer (Vicious Cycle: Whiskey, Women, and Water)