#ant

I shall be your poet! I do not want to be a poet for others; make your appearance, and I shall be your poet. I shall eat my own poem, and that will be my food. Or do you find me unworthy? Just as a temple dancer dances to the honor of the god Gudutl, so I have consecrated myself to your service; light, thinly clad, limber, unarmed, I renounce everything. I own nothing; I desire to own nothing; I love nothing; I have nothing to lose-but have I not thereby become more worthy of you, you who long ago must have been tired of depriving people of what they love, tired of their craven sniveling and craven pleading. Surprise me-I am ready ↗

— Søren Kierkegaard

#enchantment #johannes #love #love-letters #passion

Walking out into the night with a water fey was all kinds of stupid. Heck, Kelpies eat people. They may not play with their food as creatively as the Each Uisge, but dead is dead. ↗

— E.J. Stevens

#fantasy #fiction #kelpies #paranormal #psychic-detective

Brick” could be the name of a restaurant. But so could “Blah,” “Gruel,” and “A Taste of the Gulag.”
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— Jarod Kintz

#brick-and-blanket-test #brick-and-blanket-uses #food #gruel #gulag

The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’ The child enjoys his cold meat, otherwise dull to him, by pretending it is buffalo, just killed with his own bow and arrow. And the child is wise. The real meat comes back to him more savory for having been dipped in a story…by putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it. ↗

— C.S. Lewis

#food #myth #value #food

I think this goat must have been fed on old boots,' Stubble complained as he chewed the last scraps of flesh from the bones littering his stew. ↗

— Carl Sargent

#fantasy #food #humour #stubble #zagor

He barely heard the gasp escape her lips, but he did see her brilliant brown eyes, how they danced with alarm at his presence, how her lips trembled slightly with what she had done, yes, and now for the glare in his eyes. He knew she could see the hunger they held, he knew she could see, in that moment, just who he truly was...what he was. Yes, Christian knew she could see all these things, knew she could do nothing but bask in the monster that he was. Which was why he was not surprised when she stepped toward him, her shaking lips moving, allowing the low sound of her voice, her sweet, drawing voice, to enter his terribly haunted ears, the ears that caught every breath, heard every pulse of scared heart: “My Lord...your eyes....” “Yes,” he barely whispered, the word hardly escaping his throat. The hunger was all he could feel, her blood all he could smell, the pulse of lust just there beneath her skin, calling him, drawing him ever closer.... And yes, he felt the skin of her neck, felt the blood just there, her blood...his food. ↗

— S.C. Parris

#fantasy #the-delacroix-series #vampire #vampires #food

I must be pregnant, because I’m craving some strange food. Right now I feel like eating organic, grass-fed cow cud, covered with a sautéed sauce of impoverished baby vomit.
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— Jarod Kintz

#food

She cried. She moaned. She ate heaps of junk food. She wished her perfect partner would soon drop out of the sky so she could get on with her life. ↗

— Kym Petrie

#food

When I used to do musical theatre, my dad refused to come backstage. He never wanted to see the props up close or the sets up close. He didn't want to see the magic. ↗

— Nia Vardalos

#close #come #dad #i #magic

I actually cook and eat real food, too. No roast Hansel, no grilled Gretel…I promise.” --Angela from Angela's Coven #covenbooks ↗

— Bruce Jenvey

#paranormal-series #food