But If I Must Be Alone, I

It Seems To Me That Our Three Basic Needs, For Food And Security And Love, Are So Mixed And Mingled And Entwined That We Cannot Straightly Think Of One Without The Others. So It Happens That When I Write Of Hunger, I Am Really Writing About Love And The Hunger For It, And Warmth And The Love Of It And The Hunger For It… And Then The Warmth And Richness And Fine Reality Of Hunger Satisfied… And It Is All One.

The Things Men Come To Eat When They Are Alone Are, I Suppose, Not Much Stranger Than The Men Themselves.... A Writer Years Ago Told Me Of Living For Five Months On Hen Mash.

On The Other Hand, A Flaccid, Moping, Debauched Mollusc, Tired From Too Much Love And Loose-nerved From General World Conditions, Can Be A Shameful Thing Served Raw Upon The Shell.

Dictionaries Are Always Fun, But Not Always Reassuring.

For Me, A Plain Baked Potato Is The Most Delicious One....it Is Soothing And Enough.