“The road to hell is paved with leeks and potatoes”

“... I began to ponder; this life we had for ourselves, Eric and I, it felt like the opposite of Potage Parmentier. It was easy enough to keep on with the soul-sucking jobs; at least it saved having to make a choice. But how much longer could I take such an easy life? Quicksand was easy. Hell, death was easy. Maybe that's why my synapses had started snapping at the sight of potatoes and leeks in the Korean deli. Maybe that was what was plucking deep down in my belly whenever I thought of Julia Child's book. Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be a part of something that was not easy, just simple.”

“Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be part of something that was not easy, just simple.”

“Without the Project I was nothing but a secretary on a road to nowhere, drifting toward frosted hair and menthol addiction.”

“One theory on cannibals, of course, is that they eat parts of their slain enemies to benefit from that person's greatest assets - their strength, their courage. Then there’s that thing they do in Germany. You heard about that, didn’t you? Some man over there agreed to let another man cut off his penis, cook it, then feed it to him – now, what in hell was that all about? What did he think the taste of his stir-fried cock would tell him about himself? Was he seeking to wring one last drop of pleasure out of the thing? (Goodness, that’s an unnecessarily vivid metaphor.) But somehow – I said this over dinner – this steak with beef marrow sauce, it didn’t seem that different. “It’s like eating life. It’s almost like eating my own life, you know?”No, not really. But it’s a hell of a good steak, sis.”

“If I had thought the beef marrow might be a hell of a lot of work for not much difference, I needn’t have worried. The taste of the marrow is rich, meaty, intense in a nearly-too-much way. In my increasingly depraved state, I could think of nothing at first but that it tasted like really good sex. But there was something more than that, even. What it really tastes like is life, well lived. Of course the cow I got marrow from had a fairly crappy life – lots of crowds and overmedication and bland food that might or might not have been a relative. But deep in his or her bones, there was a capacity for feral joy. I could taste it.”

“Bo czasami ma się takie uczucie, kiedy widzi się, jak ktoś się zakochuje - może zwłaszcza w przypadku kogoś smutnego, trudnego lub z jakiegoś innego powodu niedopasowanego do świata. Uczucie ulgi, prawdziwej, jakbyś mogła pozbyć się ciężaru, który niosłaś, nie zdając sobie z tego sprawy. Tak się właśnie czułam, patrząc na ślub Isabel i Martina. "No, przynajmniej ta sprawa z głowy". Dwoje ludzi, którzy mogli się nie odnaleźć. Wydawało się, że to coś cennego i delikatnego.”