When I Write Of Hunger, I Am

In Spite Of My Conviction That A Group Of Deliberately Assembled Relatives Can Be One Of The Dullest, If Not Most Dangerous, Gatherings In The World, I Am Smugly Foolhardly Enough To Have Invited All My Available Family, More Than Once, To Dine With Me.

At Present, I Myself Do Not Know Of Any Local Witches Or Warlocks, But There Are Several People Who Seem To Have An Uncanny Power Over Food.

If Time, So Fleeting, Must Like Humans Die, Let It Be Filled With Good Food And Good Talk, And Then Embalmed In The Perfumes Of Conviviality.

... Living Out Of Sight Of Any Shore Does Rich And Powerfully Strange Things To Humans.

Probably No Strychnine Has Sent As Many Husbands Into Their Graves As Mealtime Scolding Has, And Nothing Has Driven More Men Into The Arms Of Other Women As The Sound Of A Shrill Whine At Table.