I think people who are unhappy are always proud of being so, and therefore do not like to be told that there is nothing grand about their unhappiness. A man who is melancholy because lack of exercise has upset his liver always believes that it is the loss of God, or the menace of Bolshevism, or some such dignified cause that makes him sad. When you tell people that happiness is a simple matter, they get annoyed with you.
Australia, Australia, we love you from the heart. The kidneys, the liver & the giblets too. And every other part.
Eating liver out of a cow's body is like eating the filter out of a car.
Love doesn't reside in the heart, anyway. Love resides in the liver along with jaundice.
Strygalldwir is my name. Conjure with it and I will eat your heart and liver. " "Conjure with it? I can't even pronounce it, and my cirrhosis would give you indigestion.
Life loves the liver of it. You must live and life will be good to you.
I drank my liver out.
My life has been long, and believing that life loves the liver of it, I have dared to try many things, sometimes trembling, but daring still.
You beat the liver out of a goose to get a pâté; you pound the muscles of a man's cardia to get a philosopher.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear my liver on my pant leg.
I'm sick of being accused of gold-digging. It just so happens I get turned on by liver spots.
I am a sick man. . . I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts. However, i don't know a fig about my sickness, and am not sure what it is that hurts me. I am not being treated and never have been, though I respect medicine. What's more, I am also superstitious in the extreme; well, at least enough to respect medicine.
Then what are you? An electronic Hannibal Lector? You can't eat my liver with fava beans through a modem, you know.
At a time when Democratic leaders are pushing rationed care in a world of limited resources, Americans might wonder where the call for shared sacrifice is from illegal immigrant patients like those in Los Angeles getting free liver and kidney transplants at UCLA Medical Center. 'I'm just mad,' illegal alien Jose Lopez told the Los Angeles Times last year after receiving two taxpayer-subsidized liver transplants while impatiently awaiting approval for state health insurance.
We all know that small cars are good for us. But so is cod liver oil. And jogging.
Life loves the liver of it.
I am a sick man. . . I am a spiteful man. An unattractive man. I think that my liver hurts.
The mechanical brain does not secrete thought "as the liver does bile," as the earlier materialists claimed, nor does it put it out in the form of energy, as the muscle puts out its activity. Information is information, not matter or energy. No materialism which does not admit this can survive at the present day.
Liver is my number one most hated food. Oh, God, I get sick talking about it!
All right, let's not panic. I'll make the money by selling one of my livers. I can get by with one.