food

Dear Mom and Dad and Bill and Glad: Caught a fish. Camp's a wow! Sleeping out is grand. Swimming's fun. Hiking's fine. Food is full of sand. Fire at night. Moon is bright. I'm all right God's at hand. Have to run. Your son . . . Brad.

Your food stamps will be stopped effective March, 1992, because we received notice that you passed away. May God bless you. You may reapply if there is a change in your circumstances.

Whenever you eliminate the inedible, whatever remains, however unpalatable, must be food.

You know, everyday I get out of bed and drag myself to the next cup of coffee. I take a sip and the caffeine kicks in. I can focus my eyes again. My brain starts to order the day. I'm up, I'm alive. I'm ready to rock. But the time is coming when I wake up and decide that I'm not getting out of bed. Not for coffee, or food, or sex. If it comes to me, fine. If it won't, fine. No more expectations. The longer I live the less I know. I should know more, I should know the coffee's killing me. You're suspicious of your suspicions? I'm jealous. I'm so jealous. You still have the heart to have doubts. Me? I'm going to lock up a 14 year old kid for what could be the rest of his natural life. I got to do this. This is my job. This is the deal. This is the law. This is my day. I have no doubts or suspicions about it. Heart has nothing to do with it anymore. It's all in the coffee.

The food of the future will be fruits and grains. The time will come when meat will no longer be eaten . . . our natural food is that which grows out of the ground.

Once upon a time a cat who prided herself on her wit and wisdom was prowling about the barn in search of food and saw a tail protruding from a hole. "There is the conclusion of a rat," she said. Then she crept stealthily toward it until within striking distance, when she made a jump and reached it with her claws. Alas! it was not the appendage of a rat, but the tail of a snake, who immediately turned and gave her a mortal bite. And if such a story has a moral, it surely must be that it is indeed dangerous to jump at conclusions.

"To what do you attribute your great age?" asked the reporter. "I don't rightly know yet," replied the old-timer. "I'm still dickering with two breakfast food companies."

Words of an Unknown Martin Handcart Company Pioneer. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with him in our extremities. I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there. Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.

Memory is a crazy woman who hoards colored rags and throws away food.

The perpetual struggle for room and food.