The factory farm is . . . an obvious moral evil so sickening and horrendous. . . All this so we can have our accustomed veal or lamb or fried chicken or pork chop or hot dog.
I have no interest in being a trained ballerina. People should dance how they want to dance. I want to be the funky chicken.
He was transfixed at the sight of the lords and ladies of his realm running about like demented chickens.
Just as the chicken pox virus continues to live quietly in the body after the disease is gone, the god virus may live quietly in the host until something evokes it.
Chicken,' Josie said. 'Have you ever been in love?' Peter looked at Josie, and thought of how they had once tied a note with their addresses to a helium balloon and let it go in her backyard, certain it would reach Mars. Instead, they had received a letter from a widow who lived two blocks away. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I think so.
They wanted to wait, to improve, to get better, when he's already a world champion. And that's a mistake. That's a chicken attitude.
I am a vegetarian because I realized that even little chickens suffer pain and fear, experience a range of feelings and emotions, and are as intelligent as mammals, including dogs, cats, and even some primates.
When I was six I had a chicken that walked backward and was in the Pathe News. I was in it too with the chicken. I was just there to assist the chicken but it was the high point in my life. Everything since has been anticlimax.
Everything I needed was in my car, even the chickens
People don't know how chickens can turn on you, but they can -- just like mad dogs.
There is plenty of Hühnerfleisch in the Kühlschrank. (There is plenty of chicken in the fridge).
I love my squirrel and dumplings, but you can make it with chicken and dumplings. I love making the dumplings. I think I just like to roll out dough.
The snow lay thin and apologetic over the world. That wide grey sweep was the lawn, with the straggling trees of the orchard still dark beyond; the white squares were the roofs of the garage, the old barn, the rabbit hutches, the chicken coops. Further back there were only the flat fields of Dawson's farm, dimly white-striped. All the broad sky was grey, full of more snow that refused to fall. There was no colour anywhere.
Curse away! And let me tell thee, Beausant, a wise proverb The Arabs have,-"Curses are like young chickens, And still come home to roost."
Changing my diet was the big thing. I had to learn correct portion control. . . . I eat an egg-white omelet for breakfast, shrimp and veggies for lunch, and chicken with asparagus for dinner.
If you eat a chicken wing or a chicken tender in some parts of the country, I probably supplied it.
I can't really cook, but the first dish I ever made was for my girlfriend, Eleanor. I made chicken breast wrapped in ham, homemade mashed potatoes, and gravy.
If they invent a four legged chicken," Will said, "Horace will think he's gone to Heaven.
Tether even a roasted chicken.
I get tired of hearing it's a crummy world and that people are no damned good. What kind of talk is that? I know a place in Payette, Idaho, where a cook and a waitress and a manager put everything they've got into laying a chicken-fried steak on you.
Daisy looked up at him with the kind of expression that Jesus might have given someone who had just explained that he was probably allergic to bread and fishes, so could He possibly do him a quick chicken salad.
They weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale---and yet they weren't unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.
call it chicken salad
My biggest faults is that the faults I was born with grow bigger each year. It's like I was raising chickens inside me. The chickens lay eggs and the eggs hatch into other chickens, which then lay eggs. Is this any way to live a life? What with all these faults I've got going, I have to wonder. Sure, I get by. But in the end, that's not the question, is it?
Duende I can't remember her name. It's not as though I've been in bed with that many women. The truth is I can't even remember her face. I kind of know how strong her thighs were, and her beauty. But what I won't forget is the way she tore open the barbecued chicken with her hands, and wiped the grease on her breasts.
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