The Things Men Come To Eat When

Good Wine, Well Drunk, Can Lend Majesty To The Human Spirit.

Brioches Are A Light, Pale Yellow, Faintly Sweet Kind Of Muffin With A Characteristic Blob On Top, Rather Like A Mushroom Just Pushing Crookedly Through The Ground. Once Eaten In Paris, They Never Taste As Good Anywhere Else.

It Is Hard And Perhaps Impossible For Many People To Recognize The Difference Between Innocence And Naiveté.

For Anyone Addicted To Reading Commonplace Books . . . Finding A Good New One Is Much Like Enduring A Familiar Recurrence Of Malaria, With Fever, Fits Of Shaking, Strange Dreams . . . .

When A Man Is Small, He Loves And Hates Food With A Ferocity Which Soon Dims. At Six Years Old His Very Bowels Will Heave When Such A Dish As Creamed Carrots Or Cold Tapioca Appear Before Him.