Careful Words

food (n.)

food (v.)

Smiles from reason flow,

To brute deny'd, and are of love the food.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 239.

Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,

And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 83.

  Food for powder, food for powder; they 'll fill a pit as well as better.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. 2.

A creature not too bright or good

For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): She was a Phantom of Delight.

Books cannot always please, however good;

Minds are not ever craving for their food.

George Crabbe (1754-1832): The Borough. Letter xxiv. Schools.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 3.

'T is an old maxim in the schools,

That flattery's the food of fools;

Yet now and then your men of wit

Will condescend to take a bit.

Jonathan Swift (1667-1745): Cadenus and Vanessa.

If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again! it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound

That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving odour!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.

  Sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge.

Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586): Defence of Poesy.

Quod ali cibus est aliis fuat acre venenum (What is food to one may be fierce poison to others).—Lucretius: iv. 637.

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,

And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Guilt and Sorrow. Stanza 41.

But mice and rats, and such small deer,

Have been Tom's food for seven long year.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Lear. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,

That creepeth o'er ruins old!

Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,

In his cell so lone and cold.

Creeping where no life is seen,

A rare old plant is the ivy green.

Charles Dickens (1812-1870): Pickwick Papers. Chap. vi.

Blessing on him who invented sleep,—the mantle that covers all human thoughts, the food that appeases hunger, the drink that quenches thirst, the fire that warms cold, the cold that moderates heat, and, lastly, the general coin that purchases all things, the balance and weight that equals the shepherd with the king, and the simple with the wise.—Jarvis's translation.