The road to hell is paved with leeks and potatoes Julie Powell More Quotes by Julie Powell More Quotes From Julie Powell I love that after a day when nothing is sure, and when I say 'nothing' I mean nothing, you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. It's such a comfort. Julie Powell eggs home mean People want to care about people. People look after each other, given the chance. ... I believe just believing in goodness generates a tiny bit of the stuff, so that being so foolish as to believe in our better natures, if just for a day, we actually contribute to the sum total of generosity in the universe. Julie Powell generosity believe people Physically it's exhausting to cook every night. Existentially speaking, I have so much more energy having that time to myself in this project, this gift to myself at the end of the day. Even if it didn't go smoothly, it was still a gift. Julie Powell the-end-of-the-day energy night Maybe I needed to make like a potato, winnow myself down, be part of something that was not easy, just simple. Julie Powell potatoes simple easy Doors are going to open-doors you can't even imagine exist. Julie Powell imagine doors The nice thing about having a friend who is crazier than you are is that she bolsters your belief in your own sanity. Julie Powell sanity nice belief So the end may be a long time coming, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have a way of sneaking up on you. Julie Powell may long mean It's sad, but a relief as well, to know that two things so closely bound together can separate with so little violence. Julie Powell broken-heart together two There are times with your friends when you just have to put their whole mess out of your mind for a while. Julie Powell mess whole mind I got my undergrad in Creative Writing, and then I didn't get my Masters in obsession, because I figured I already had that covered. Julie Powell obsession creative writing You can never have too much, butter. Julie Powell garlic too-much beach The blog is certainly another tool for writers out there to break their way in. But being a blogger does not make you a great writer. Julie Powell tools doe way There, I was just a secretary-shaped confederation of atoms, fighting the inevitability of mediocrity and decay. But here, in the Juliaverse... energy was never lost, merely converted from one form to another. Here, I took butter and cream and meat and eggs and I made delicious sustenance. Julie Powell atoms eggs fighting Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've got to run away to Bath and marry a punk rocker. Sometimes you've got to dye your hair cobalt blue, or wander remote islands in Sicily, or cook your way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year, for no very good reason. Julie Powell hair running art Metz's Perfection chronicles with lapidary precision one woman's climb back to happiness after not just a spouse's death, but also the shocking recognition that her life before that death was not what she had thought it was. The journey is a painful one, but Ms. Metz is much the stronger for having survived to recount it. Julie Powell stronger journey perfection But hard bitten cynicism leaves one feeling peevish, and too much of it can do lasting damage to your heart. Julie Powell too-much feelings heart Two years ago, I was a twenty-nine year old secretary. Now I am a thirty-one year old writer. I get paid very well to sit around in my pajamas and type on my ridiculously fancy iMac, unless I'd rather take a nap. Feel free to hate me -- I certainly would. Julie Powell hate naps years Cooking saved my life! Sure, there were some miserable moments, but that was sort of the point, to find something challenging and consuming enough to take a place in the center of my life into which was creeping a horrible feeling of stasis and the doom of mediocrity. Julie Powell cooking challenges food Nowadays anyone with a crap laptop and an Internet connection can sound their barbaric yawp, whatever it may be. Julie Powell laptops sound may If there's a sexier sound on this planet than the person you're in love with cooing over the crepes you made for him, I don't know what it is. Julie Powell made sound food
