Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch.
I believe in stopping work and eating lunch.
When people you greatly admire appear to be thinking deep thoughts, they probably are thinking about lunch.
Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?
Destiny may ride with us today, but there is no reason for it to interfere with lunch.
It's nice to just be a kid and hang out with your friends at lunch.
If you had chicken at lunch and chicken at dinner, do you ever wonder if the two chickens knew each other?
Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper.
We must have courage, faith, and lunch together sometime soon.
People who say they're too busy to have lunch have a false impression of their own importance.
There's no such thing as a free lunch.
Energy is food. Most people on earth feed on each other's energy, all of the time, seven days a week. The more energy you have, the more interested parties there will be in having lunch.
If you can’t be happy at the prospect of lunch, you are unlikely to be happy about anything
Recess and lunch are the best.
I'm going to try to pull a Natalie Portman. Natalie went to Harvard while shooting 'Star Wars'. I don't know how she did it. I want to have lunch with her and ask her - that seems like a bunch of stress right there.
I had a hard time with bullying. I ate lunch in the bathroom.
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better. Then it melts. The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They don't know what just happened. They can't remember.
After dinner or lunch or whatever it was -- with my crazy 12-hour night I was no longer sure what was what -- I said, "Look, baby, I'm sorry, but don't you realize that this job is driving me crazy? Look, let's give it up. Let's just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little. Let's go to the zoo. Let's look at animals. Let's drive down and look at the ocean. It's only 45 minutes. Let's play games in the arcades. Let's go to the races, the Art Museum, the boxing matches. Let's have friends. Let's laugh. This kind of life like everybody else's kind of life: it's killing us.
Because that's what you do, you stand up for your best friend. And you eat lunch with him and talk with him and share secrets and laugh a lot and go places and do stuff, and when you wake up in the morning, he's the first person you think of.
But Lunch Isn't That Bad, Really Once I get used to having to eat with two people instead of one. Two people who have known each other for such a long time that they practically speak in code. Two people who are always saying, "Remember the time when this happened?" and "Remember the time when that happened?" (Which, of course, I never do, because I wasn't there.) Well, okay, it is that bad. It sucks, even.
Tibby sat on the outside of a group of kids in the film program. There was a lot of dark clothing and heavy footwear, and quite a few piercings glinting in sunlight. They had invited her to sit with them while they all finished up their lunches before film seminar. Tibby knew that they had invited her largely because she had a ring in her nose. This bugged her almost as much as when people excluded her because she had a ring in her nose.
The bus roared through Indiana cornfields that night; the moon illuminated the ghostly gathered husks; it was almost Halloween. I made the acquaintance of a girl and we necked all the way to Indianapolis. She was nearsighted. When we got off to eat I had to lead her by the hand to the lunch counter. She bought my meals; my sandwiches were all gone. In exchange I told her long stories.
One day I was watching these construction workers go back to work. I was watching them kind of trudging down the street. It was like a revelation to me. I realized these guys don’t want to go back to work after lunch. But they’re going. That’s their job. If they can exhibit that level of dedication for that job I should be able to do the same. Trudge your ass in.
Cultivate a sense of humour. From a humorous point of view this lunch is rather good.
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