A. J. Liebling

If there is any way you can get colder than you do when you sleep in a bedding roll on the ground in a tent in southern Tunisia two hours before dawn, I don't know about it.

Freedom of the press is guaranteed only to those who own one.

An Englishman teaching an American about food is like the blind leading the one-eyed.

If the first requisite for writing well about food is a good appetite, the second is to put in your apprenticeship as a feeder when you have enough money to pay the check but not enough to produce indifference of the total.

No sane man can afford to dispense with debilitating pleasures. No ascetic can be considered reliably sane.

If you just try long enough and hard enough, you can always manage to boot yourself in the posterior.

Southern political personalities, like sweet corn, travel badly. They lose flavor with every hundred yards away from the patch. By the time they reach New York, they are like Golden Bantam that has been trucked up from Texas — stale and unprofitable. The consumer forgets that the corn tastes different where it grows.

There is no concept more generally cherished by publishers than that of the Undeserving Poor.

People everywhere confuse what they read in newspapers with news.

The primary requisite for writing well about food is a good appetite. Without this, it is impossible to accumulate, within the allotted span, enough experience of eating to have anything worth setting down.

I can write better than anybody who can write faster, and I can write faster than anybody who can write better.