“What we eat is a poem.”
“A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail and making you guess what it means.”
“We are not only what we eat, but how we eat, too.”
“We eat the way we eat because we are afraid to feel what we feel.”
“Mother of otherness, Eat me.--from "Poem for a Birthday - Who", written 1960”
“We are indeed much more than what we eat, but what we eat can nevertheless help us to become much more than what we are.”