Dining-Room Quotes (displaying: 1 - 14 of 14 quotes )
I had been hungry all the years-My noon had come, to dine-I, trembling, drew the table near. And touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had seen. When turning, hungry, lone, I looked in windows, for the wealth. I could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread,'Twas so unlike the crumb. The birds and I had often shared. In Nature's diningroom. The plenty hurt me, 'twas so new,--Myself felt ill and odd, As berry of a mountain bush. Transplanted to the road. Nor was I hungry; so I found. That hunger was a way. Of persons outside windows, The entering takes away.
The Pension Dressler stood in a side street and had, at first glance, the air rather of a farm than of a hotel. Frau Dressler's pig, tethered by one hind trotter to the jamb of the front door, roamed the yard and disputed the kitchen scraps with the poultry. He was a prodigious beast. Frau Dressler's guests prodded him appreciatively on the way to the dining-room, speculating on how soon he would be ripe for killing. The milch-goat was allowed a narrower radius; those who kept strictly to the causeway were safe, but she never reconciled herself to this limitation and, day in, day out, essayed a series of meteoric onslaughts on the passers-by, ending, at the end of her rope, with a jerk which would have been death to an animal of any other species. One day the rope would break; she knew it, and so did Frau Dressler's guests.
We know one another. This is the present. There is no past and no future. Here I am washing my hands, and the cracked mirror shows me to myself, suspended as it were, in time; this is me, this moment will not pass. And then I open the door and go to the dining-room, where he is sitting waiting for me at a table, and I think how in that moment I have aged, and passed on, how I have advanced one step towards an unknown destiny. We smile, we choose our lunch, we speak of this and that, but - I say to myself-I am not she who left him five minutes ago. She has stayed behind. I am another woman, older, more matur?
When he was dressed, Stepan Arkadyevitch sprinkled some scent on himself, pulled down his shirt-cuffs, distributed into his pockets his cigarettes, pocketbook, matches, and watch with its double chain and seals, and shaking out his handkerchief, feeling himself clean, fragrant, healthy, and physically at ease, in spite of his unhappiness, he walked with a slight swing on each leg into the dining-room, where coffee was already waiting for him, and beside the coffee, letters and papers from the office.
A trickle of blood came out under the door, crossed the living room, went out into the street, continued on in a straight line across the uneven terraces, went down steps and climbed over curbs, passed along the Street of the Turks, turned a corner to the right and another to the left, made a right angle at the Buenda house, went in under the closed door, crossed through the parlor, hugging the walls so as not to stain the rugs, went on to the other living room, made a wide curve to avoid the dining-room table, went along the porch with the begonias, and passed without being seen under Amaranta's chair as she gave an arithmetic lesson to Aureliano Jos, and went through the pantry and came out in the kitchen, where rsula was getting ready to crack thirty-six eggs to make bread."Holy Mother of God!" rsula shouted.
The boys were tumbling about, clinging to his legs, imploring thatnumerous things be brought back to them. Mr. Pontellier was a greatfavorite, and ladies, men, children, even nurses, were always on hand tosay goodby to him. His wife stood smiling and waving, the boys shouting, as he disappeared in the old rockaway down the sandy road. A few days later a box arrived for Mrs. Pontellier from New Orleans. Itwas from her husband. It was filled with friandises, with lusciousand toothsome bits--the finest of fruits, pates, a rare bottle or two, delicious syrups, and bonbons in abundance. Mrs. Pontellier was always very generous with the contents of such abox; she was quite used to receiving them when away from home. Thepates and fruit were brought to the dining-room; the bonbons were passedaround. And the ladies, selecting with dainty and discriminating fingersand a little greedily, all declared that Mr. Pontellier was the besthusband in the world. Mrs. Pontellier was forced to admit that she knewof none better.
This was the first living creature I had ever loved passionately, because he returned my affection. My love for the animal was, no doubt, exaggerated and ridiculous. I has a vague idea that in some way we were brothers, both lost in life, both lonely and defenseless. He never left me, slept at foot of my bed, was fed in the dining-room in spite of my parents' protests and he came with me on my solitary walks.
It was nearly lunch-time before Blackie had finished and went in search of T. Chaos had advanced. The kitchen was a shambles of broken glass and china, the dining-room was stripped of parquet, the skirting was up, the door had been taken off its hinges, and the destroyers had moved up a floor. Streaks of light came in through the closed shutters where they worked with the seriousness of creators - and destruction after all is a form of creation. A kind of imagination had seen this house as it had now become. ("The Destructors")
...so now, Mrs. Ramsay thought, she could return to that dream land, that unreal but fascinating place, the Manning's drawing-room at Marlow twenty years ago; where one moved about without haste or anxiety, for there was no future to worry about. She knew what had happened to them, what to her. It was like reading a good book again, for she knew the end of that story, since it had happened twenty years ago, and life, which shot down even from this dining-room table in cascades, heaven knows where, was sealed up there, and lay, like a lake, placidly between its banks.