“Summon up a supper,” he said. “Oh, I could. On golden plates, if you like. But that’s illusion, and when you eat illusions you end up hungrier than before.”

The old man … received the Sabbath with sweet song and chanted the hallowing tunefully over raisin wine; while it was still day he hallowed and the sun came to gaze at his glass. … The table was well spread with all manner of fruit, beans, greenstuffs and good pies, plum water tasting like wine, but of flesh and of fish there was never a sign. … in truth it is in no way obligatory to eat flesh and fish … He and she, meaning the old man and the old woman, had never tasted flesh since growing to maturity.

Luxa and I do not serve food, we are royalty. <br/k> Yeah, well, I'm the warrior and Boots is a princess. And you two are going to get pretty hungry if you're waiting for me to serve you. <br/k> Tell him, boy. Tell him your country fought a war so you wouldn't have to answer to kings and queens.

There is no body but eats and drinks. But they are few who can distinguish flavors.

The company, then, were feasting in silence, as though some one in authority had commanded them to do so, when Philip the buffoon knocked at the door and told the porter to announce who he was and that he desired to be admitted; he added that with regard to food he had come all prepared, in all varieties—to dine on some other person's,—and that his servant was in great distress with the load he carried of—nothing, and with having an empty stomach. Hearing this, Callias said, “Well, gentlemen, we cannot decently begrudge him at the least the shelter of our roof; so let him come in.” With the words he cast a glance at Autolycus, obviously trying to make out what he had thought of the pleasantry. But Philip, standing at the threshold of the men's hall where the banquet was served, announced: “You all know that I am a jester; and so I have come here with a will, thinking it more of a joke to come to your dinner uninvited than to come by invitation.” “Well, then,” said Callias, “take a place; for the guests, though well fed, as you observe, on seriousness, are perhaps rather ill supplied with laughter.”

Wilbur didn't want food, he wanted love.

Such was life in the Golden Gate: Gold dusted all we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, 'We all must eat our peck of gold.'

Instead of seeing that men got enough to eat the Government spent the whole Session in securing that they should have nothing to drink.

Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip.

Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip.

Early on I set out to write the next Great American Novel, and then later on I set out the silverware and enjoyed my dinner in silence.

If the world is replete with blood and wealth, still man of God would not eat anything except licit thing.

so word for word/My master spoke, and I asked him for the food/To fill the appetite these words inspired.

No soup for you