Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.
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Go not for every grief to the physician, nor for every quarrel to the lawyer, nor for every thirst to the pot.
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Good wine needs no bush, and perhaps products that people really want need no hard-sell or soft-sell TV push. Why not? Look at pot.
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Once the visitor was told rather repetitively that this city was the melting pot; never before in history had so many people of such varied languages, customs, colors and culinary habits lived so amicably together. Although New York remains peaceful by most standards, this self-congratulation is now less often heard, since it was discovered some years ago that racial harmony depended unduly on the willingness of the blacks (and latterly the Puerto Ricans) to do for the other races the meanest jobs at the lowest wages and then to return to live by themselves in the worst slums.
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Fortunately, the time has long passed when people liked to regard the United States as some kind of melting pot, taking men and women from every part of the world and converting them into standardized, homogenized Americans. We are, I think, much more mature and wise today. Just as we welcome a world of diversity, so we glory in an America of diversity -- an America all the richer for the many different and distinctive strands of which it is woven.
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Since the 1960s, we have seen the failure of the melting pot ideology. This ideology suggested that different historical, cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds could be subordinated to a larger ideology or social amalgam which is America. This concept obviously did not work, because paradoxically America encourages a politics of contestation.
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You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here, you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries...
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The people in power will not disappear voluntarily, giving flowers to the cops just isn't going to work. This thinking is fostered by the establishment; they like nothing better than love and nonviolence. The only way I like to see cops given flowers is in a flower pot from a high window.
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Confucious say: - fool man climb tree to get cherries; wise man spread limbs. - man who go to bed with sex problem wake up with solution in hand. - man who live in glass house should bathe in the basement. - man who screws near graveyard is fucking near dead. - man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day. - woman who cooks carrots and pees in same pot very unsanitary. - man who goes to bed with an itchy butt wakes up with a smelly finger
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Fr., I want there to be no peasant in my realm so poor that he will not have a chicken in his pot every Sunday.
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We become not a melting pot but a beautiful mosaic. Different people, different beliefs, different yearnings, different hopes, different dreams.
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You, the Spirit of the Settlement ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming Here, you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries...
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Men's ignorance makes the pot boil for priests.
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As a result of trying to solve the big problems we face in life, many of us end up sacrificing individual relationships by doing things that we may consider as being small or insignificant at the time. This reminds us of the George and Gracie routine where George asks Gracie, How do you cook a pot roast? She replied, I put both a big pot roast and a small pot roast in the oven. When the small one is burnt, the big one is done just right!
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And not an hour ago you hadn't a penny to warm your pocket. Did someone die and leave you a pot of gold?
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Genius will live and thrive without training, but it does not the less reward the watering pot and the pruning knife.
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Carolyn Burnham: I see you're smoking pot now. I suppose you think smoking illegal psychotropic substances is a good example to set for our sixteen year-old daughter?! Lester Burnham: You're one to talk, you bloodless, money-grubbing freak.
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America is a melting pot, the people at the bottom get burned while all the scum floats to the top.
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The idea that (school-children) are happy is of a piece with the idea that the lobster in the pot is happy
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Only the spoon knows what is stirring in the pot.
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Pol Pot will surrender, be captured or commit suicide.
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When fortune empties her chamber pot on your head, smile and say We are going to have a summer shower.
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A little pot boils easily.
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Let this be an example for the acquisition of all knowledge, virtue, and riches. By the fall of drops of water, by degrees, a pot is filled.
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Do not put your spoon into the pot which does not boil for you.
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It is hard to distinguish between Islamism, radicalism and terrorism in one and the same melting pot.
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I'm giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In.
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Je veux que les paysans mettent la poule au pot tous les dimanches.
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I have seen, and heard, much of Cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public's face.
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I want there to be no peasant in my kingdom so poor that he cannot have a chicken in his pot every Sunday.
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