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But if I must be alone, I refuse to be alone as if it were something weak and distasteful, like convalescence.
M. F. K. Fisher
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M. F. K. Fisher
Age: 83 †
Born: 1908
Born: July 3
Died: 1992
Died: June 22
Author
Diarist
Memoirist
Screenwriter
Writer
Albion
Michigan
M.F.K. Fisher
Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher
Weak
Alone
Must
Something
Like
Convalescence
Distasteful
Refuse
More quotes by M. F. K. Fisher
It is all a question of weeding out what you yourself like best to do, so that you can live most agreeably in a world full of an increasing number of disagreeable surprises.
M. F. K. Fisher
A pleasant aperitif, as well as a good chaser for a short quick whiskey, as well again for a fine supper drink, is beer.
M. F. K. Fisher
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.
M. F. K. Fisher
Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.
M. F. K. Fisher
A writing cook and a cooking writer must be bold at the desk as well as the stove.
M. F. K. Fisher
Too few of us, perhaps, feel that breaking of bread, the sharing of salt, the common dipping into one bowl, mean more than satisfaction of a need. We make such primal things as casual as tunes heard over a radio, forgetting the mystery and strength in both.
M. F. K. Fisher
Probably one of the most private things in the world is an egg until it is broken.
M. F. K. Fisher
Cooks must feed their egos as well as their customers.
M. F. K. Fisher
death ... so seldom happens nowadays in the awesome quiet of a familiar chamber. Most of us die violently, thanks to the advance of science and warfare. If by chance we are meant to end life in our beds, we are whisked like pox victims to the nearest hospital, where we are kept as alone and unaware as possible of the approach of disintegration.
M. F. K. Fisher
Salad is roughage and a French idea.
M. F. K. Fisher
... most bereaved souls crave nourishment more tangible than prayers: they want a steak. What is more, they need a steak. Preferably they need it rare, grilled, heavily salted, for that way it is most easily digested, and most quickly turned into the glandular whip their tired adrenals cry for.
M. F. K. Fisher
The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight
M. F. K. Fisher
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.
M. F. K. Fisher
The oyster leads a dreadful but exciting life. Indeed, his chance to live at all is slim, and if he should survive the arrows of his own outrageous fortune and in the two weeks of his carefree youth find a clean smooth place to fix on, the years afterwards are full of stress, passion, and danger.
M. F. K. Fisher
When shall we live if not now?
M. F. K. Fisher
. . . gastronomical perfection can be reached in these combinations: one person dining alone, usually upon a couch or a hill side two people, of no matter what sex or age, dining in a good restaurant six people . . . dining in a good home.
M. F. K. Fisher
The things men come to eat when they are alone are, I suppose, not much stranger than the men themselves.... A writer years ago told me of living for five months on hen mash.
M. F. K. Fisher
Or you can broil the meat, fry the onions, stew the garlic in the red wine...and ask me to supper. I'll not care, really, even if your nose is a little shiny, so long as you are self-possessed and sure that wolf or no wolf, your mind is your own and your heart is another's and therefore in the right place.
M. F. K. Fisher
I think that when two people are able to weave that kind of invisible thread of understanding and sympathy between each other, that delicate web, they should not risk tearing it. It is too rare, and it lasts too short a time at best.
M. F. K. Fisher
When we exist without thought or thanksgiving we are not men, but beasts.
M. F. K. Fisher
