We need to claim lunch back. It is our natural right. It has been stolen from us by our rulers. The fear that keeps you chained to your desk, staring at your screen, does not serve your spirit. Lunch is a time to forget about being sensible, practical, efficient. A proper lunch should be spiritually as well as physically nourishing. Cosy, convivial, a treat; lunch is for loafers.
Well, you won't unless you come to lunch with me," Cal said. "I'm holding it for ransom. There's a gun to its heel right now." "I have lunch at my desk," Min began, and thought,Oh, for crying out loud, could I beany more pathetic ? "Emilio is experimenting with a lunch menu. He needs you. I need you.
Rats! There goes the bell... oh, how I hate lunch hours! I always have to eat alone because nobody likes me... Peanut butter again... I wish that little red haired girl would come over, and sit with me. Wouldn't it be great if she'd walk over here, and say, 'May I eat lunch with you, Charlie Brown?' I'd give anything to talk with her... she'd never like me, though... I'm so blah and so stupid... she'd never like me... I wonder what would happen if I went over and tried to talk to her! Everyone would probably laugh... she'd probably be insulted someone as blah as I am tried to talk to her. I hate lunch hour... all it does is make me lonely... during class it doesn't matter... I can't even eat... Nothing tastes good... Rats! Nobody is ever going to like me... Lunch hour is the loneliest hour of the day!
Charles M. Schulz
Before I ran for district attorney, two Republicans invited my husband and me to lunch. And I know a party switch was exactly what they wanted. So, I told Chuck, we'll be polite, enjoy a free lunch and then say goodbye. But we talked about issues. They never used the words Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal. We talked about many issues, like welfare - is it a way of life or a hand up? And when we left that lunch, we got in the car, and I looked over at Chuck and said, 'I'll be damned, we're Republicans.'
No one guided me through it, but here is how it happened: I was in New York doing a play, and an agent got in touch with me and said he wanted to take me out for lunch. In the theatre, they never want to take you out for lunch, so I thought, 'Yes!' I went, I ordered steak, and he told me he thought I should write for TV.
I followed suit, a little bit nervous, and very unaware of what I was supposed to do. I had that same sensation you get when you were new to a school and had no idea who anyone was in your lunch period. You'd take your lunch tray and sort of stand around for a moment looking for a good spot to take a seat but the entire time you're searching, all you can feel is everyone's eyes on you. That's a shitty feeling.
I hate going out for lunch during a workday because it slows down my pace and ruins my rhythm. I prefer to eat at my desk. Actually, I wander around the design studio with a plate in my hand as I dine on, for example, salmon sashimi and a salad of tomatoes and mozzarella. I often have a bit of dark chocolate after lunch.
My healthiest habit is eating a healthy breakfast every morning. I never miss breakfast. As a busy mom, there will be days when I'm cruisin' along and I'll look at the clock and I haven't eaten lunch. And I'll run downstairs, and I'll start shovelin' stuff down the pie hole, and I'll think, 'That was no lunch at all.'
I had published a co-edited book with Oxford a decade ago, my first book actually. Years later I found myself having lunch with Lori Stone, who was an editor at Oxford at that time. We connected at a conference and over the course of lunch she told me about a wonderful new series she had just developed called Understanding Research.
I started to work at the Colony in March 1958. I remember my first day because the telephone started to ring, and it was Sinatra, three for lunch, his usual table; Onassis, two for lunch, usual table; the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Leland Hayward, Truman Capote, all wanting their usual tables.
I write every day. I don't have a writing schedule. I write when I feel like it. Fortunately, I feel like it all the time. I am writing for hours. I do like to write in the morning. I start after breakfast, like 9 o'clock, and I'll write till lunch, about 1. And after lunch, I just have fun.
You can't take a congressman to lunch for $25 and buy him a hamburger or a steak or something like that. But you can take him to a fund-raising lunch and not only buy him that steak, but give him $25,000 extra and call it a fund-raiser - and have all the same access and all the same interactions with that congressman.
A man's minor actions and arrangements ought to be free, flexible, creative; the things that should be unchangeable are his principles, his ideals. But with us the reverse is true; our views change constantly; but our lunch does not change. Now, I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. Let them argue from the same first principles, but let them do it in a bed, or a boat, or a balloon.
Gilbert K. Chesterton
So I'll see you tomorrow then.' 'Yeah.' His heart rate picked up. She really did make him feel more like a kid than a grown man. Although the desire she made him feel was certainly a man's desire. 'Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?' 'Lunch?' 'Yeah. A picnic. I want to show you this place
Stupid English." "English isn't stupid, " I say. "Well, my English teacher is." He makes a face. "Mr. Franklin assigned an essay about our favorite subject, and I wanted to write about lunch, but he won't let me." "Why not?" "He says lunch isn't a subject." I glance at him. "It isn't." "Well, " Jacob says, "it's not a predicate, either. Shouldn't he know that?
Stupid English." "English isn't stupid," I say. "Well, my English teacher is." He makes a face. "Mr. Franklin assigned an essay about our favorite subject, and I wanted to write about lunch, but he won't let me." "Why not?" "He says lunch isn't a subject." I glance at him. "It isn't." "Well," Jacob says, "it's not a predicate, either. Shouldn't he know that?
If you'd rather skip lunch, that's fine with me. I've got some things to take care of anyway before I can leave the store to Robin for the weekend.' 'I don't want to skip lunch, ' he bit out. 'I'm starving.' Her temper got the better of her. 'Fine, but if you plan on snapping at me the whole time then I'd just as soon you eat alone.' His gaze darkened. 'I'm not snapping.' She poked him in the chest. 'Yes, you are.' Leo started to speak, then paused and let out a huge breath. 'Sorry. Damn, I'm just having one of those days.' Amanda smiled and patted his cheek. 'You can tell me all about it over a bowl of fettuccine.
My father always said 'There's no free lunch.' My father was right. There's no free lunch and there's no free market. The market is rigged, the market is always rigged, and the rigging is in favour of the people who run the market. That's what the market is. It's a bent casino. The house always wins.
I can see how I could write a bold account of myself as a passionate man who rose from humble beginnings to cut a wide swath in the world, whose crimes along the way might be written off to extravagance and love and art, and could even almost believe some of it myself on certain days after the sun went down if I'd had a snort or two and was in Los Angeles and it was February and I was twenty-four, but I find a truer account in the Herald-Star, where it says: 'Mr. Gary Keillor visited at the home of Al and Florence Crandall on Monday and after lunch returned to St. Paul, where he is currently employed in the radio show business... Lunch was fried chicken with gravy and creamed peas'.