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1 " Miss Parkinson lived alone in a big bay-windowed house of Edwardian brick with a vast garden of decaying fruit trees and untidy hedges of gigantic size. She was great at making elderberry wine and bottling fruit and preserves and lemon curd and drying flowers for winter. She felt, like Halibut, that things were not as they used to be. The synthetic curse of modern times lay thick on everything. There was everywhere a sad drift from Nature. "
― H.E. Bates
2 " Jo dimaag ki dahi banaaye, uski lassi kardo, aur chill maro. (If someone makes curd of your brain then churn them to buttermilk and chill). "
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma , You By You
3 " There's curd, but is it alright to eat curd after eating meat?" asked Weligama Hamine, placing the dish of vegetables in her hands on the table. " Our parents never allowed us to eat curd after meat." " There's no harm in eating curd, Amma," Aravinda said. " It may be a little harmful to eat curd after too much meat. Meats contains essential elements that take time to digest. This is also true of milk. That's why this belief would have grown. If we eat a large quantity of meat without rice, and follow with curd, there is a possibility of indigestion." Weligama Hamine accepted the professional knowledge of her son who had qualified in England. She however, did not abandon her own view completely. "
4 " She forks up a little nibble and wedges it in her mouth. " Yum," she croaks.Mrs. Wong looks pleased. " It's made with tofu." I can't resist. " Free-range tofu?" My mother looks over at me sharply. Mrs. Wong takes the bait. " Now, Cassidy, tofu isn't an animal," she chides. " It's soy bean curd. Soy bean curd doesn't need to roam free." On the floor below me, Emma lets out a little snort. I nudge her again with my foot. We're both grinning at the thought of a corral somewhere with little cubes of tofu wandering around. " Home, home on the range," I sing to her under my breath. " Where the deer and the tofu roam free... "
5 " Let Sporus tremble — " What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings; Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys,Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys, "
