Whatever happened to that old-fashioned Grandpa If he still survives, he must be hiding in the small towns. You sure don't see him very often in the big city. The big-city Grandpa has gone big time. ... He is the life of every party, and out to prove he is just as young as he ever was. A grandchild who makes the mistake of calling him 'Gramps' is lucky if he isn't rewarded by a quick kick in the stomach.
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Treading the soil of the moon, palpating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one's stomach the separation from terra... these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known... this is the only thing I can say about the matter. The utilitarian results do not interest me.
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The healthy stomach is nothing if it is not conservative. Few radicals have good digestions.
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No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
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On occasions, after drinking a pint of beer at luncheon, there would be a flow into my mind with sudden and unaccountable emotion, sometimes a line or two of verse, sometimes a whole stanza, accompanied, not preceded by a vague notion of the poem which they were destined to form a part of.... I say bubble up because, so far as I could make out, the source of the suggestions thus proffered to the brain was the pit of the stomach.
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In the Lords prayer, the first petition is for daily bread; no one can worship God, or love his neighbor on an empty stomach.
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Even in death, his heart was bigger than anyone else's. About seven months ago, when the cancer appeared in his stomach, we were hoping that we could pull another rabbit out of the hat. But it didn't happen and it eventually took its toll.
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Business underlies everything in our national life, including our spiritual life. Witness the fact that in the Lord's Prayer, the first petition is for daily bread. No one can worship God or love his neighbor on an empty stomach.
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Coffee falls into the stomach ... ideas begin to move, things remembered arrive at full gallop ... the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink...
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This coffee plunges into the stomach...the mind is aroused, and ideas pour forth like the battalions of the Grand Army on the field of battle.... Memories charge at full gallop...the light cavalry of comparisons deploys itself magnificently; the artillery of logic hurry in with their train of ammunition; flashes of wit pop up like sharp-shooters.
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Also, there are authors and publicists using the Internet to manipulate opinion, both positively for a work and negatively against the competition. I don't do this and can't stomach it, honestly.
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How long shall we weary heaven with petitions for superfluous luxuries, as though we had not at hand wherewithal to feed ourselves? How long shall we fill our plains with huge cities? How long shall the people slave for us unnecessarily? How long shall countless numbers of ships from every sea bring us provisions for the consumption of a single mouth? An ox is satisfied with the pasture of an acre or two; one wood suffices for several elephants. Man alone supports himself by the pillage of the whole earth and sea. What! Has Nature indeed given us so insatiable a stomach, while she has given us such insignificant bodies? No, it is not the hunger of our stomachs, but insatiable covetousness which costs so much. … In the simpler times there was no need of so large a supernumerary force of medical men, nor of so many surgical instruments or of so many boxes of drugs. Health was simple for a simple reason. Many dishes have induced many diseases. Note how vast a quantity of lives one stomach absorbs ...
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Kissing is a habit, fucking is a game, boys get all the pleasure, girls get all the pain. When he says he loves you, and you believe its true, but when you stomach starts to swell, he says the hell with you!!
16 minutes of pleasure, 9 months of pain, 3 days in a hospital, a baby with no name.
The baby is a bastard, the mother is a whore it never would have happened, if the rubber hadn't tore.
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If you don't like my opinions leave. But just remember, the animals can’t leave the cages that hold them. They are captive and suffering. As you cozy into your bed tonight, try to imagine the pain and the suffering that they endure day after day and night after night. Next time you get some soap in your eyes, try to imagine that pain for 3 or 4 days at a time. Next time you have a stomach ache, try to imagine liquid plumber being poured down your throat till you puke so much blood that you bleed to death. Next time you bump your head, try to imagine being a monkey and getting a steel plate smashed into your skull at 50 miles per hour. Then, only then should you feel compelled to tell me that I’m wrong about my opinions. For all these things have happened in the name of science. They continue in abundance till this day.
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Haggis is a kind of stuff black pudding eaten by the Scots and considered by them to be not only a delicacy but fit for human consumption. The minced heart, liver and lungs of a sheep, calf or other animal's inner organs are mixed with oatmeal, sealed and boiled in maw in the sheep's intestinal stomach-bag and... [Excuse me a minute.]
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And what have you laymen made of hell? A kind of penal servitude for eternity, on the lines of your convict prisons on earth, to which you condemn in advance all the wretched felons your police have hunted from the beginning -- enemies of society, as you call them. You're kind enough to include the blasphemers and the profane. What proud or reasonable man could stomach such a notion of God's justice? And when you find that notion inconvenient it's easy enough for you to put it on one side. Hell is not to love any more, Madame. Not to love any more!
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For the preservation of chastity, an empty and rumbling stomach and fevered lungs are indispensable.
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The creator who could put a cancer in a believer's stomach is above being interfered with by prayers
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I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach.
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He who is a slave to his stomach seldom worships God.
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I have known it for a long time but I have only just experienced it. Now I know it not only with my intellect, but with my eyes, with my heart, with my stomach.
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Chris closed his eyes. How could he convey to someone who'd never even met her the way she always smelled like rain, or how his stomach knotted up every time he saw her shake loose her hair from its braid? How could he describe how it felt when she finished his sentences, turned the mug they were sharing so that her mouth landed where his had been? How did he explain the way they could be in a locker room, or underwater, or in the piney woods of Maine, but as long as Em was with him, he was at home?
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If there's anything unsettling to the stomach, it's watching actors on television talk about their personal lives
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I am a product. . . . I'm a comedian. I'm not curing cancer. In the end, I tell jokes. I make people laugh. I make sense out of ridiculous situations, but in the end, it's all about laughter. It's all about your cheek hurting, your stomach hurting.
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I can no longer stomach the systemic political decay that has weakened our democracy,
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A critic is a reader who ruminates. Thus, he should have more than one stomach.
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An empty stomach is not a good political adviser.
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He must have had a magnificent build before his stomach went in for a career of its own.
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Worldly riches are like nuts; many a tooth is broke in cracking them, but never is the stomach filled with eating them.
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Indigestion is charged by God with enforcing morality on the stomach.
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