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“As usual, he saves his wife's for last. He leans on the cane and he looks at the headstone and he thinks about many things. Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.”
Mitch Albom“It's pleasant to hear these nice words while I'm still alive. I'd rather have the taffy than the epitaphy.”
Chauncey Depew“There's nothing wrong with stretching the truth. We stretch taffy, and that just makes it more delicious.”
Stephen Colbert“This is what we do. Not so much argue as joust, in jest. We can't stop pushing and pulling the taffy of words and concepts.”
Larry Duberstein, The Twoweeks“The world around me and my past seem far away and distorted, as if time and space were taffy being stretched and looped and twisted out of shape.”
Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon“By now, we're all familiar with the literary post-apocalyptic world's metaphors. The zombies are our anxieties. The vampires are our greed. Our fairies are hope. Our werewolves are … what again? Something”
Taffy Brodesser-Akner“It's strange how memory gets twisted and pulled like taffy in its retelling, how a single event can mean something different to everyone present.”
Lisa Unger, Beautiful Lies“A big lemoncolored cat watched him from the top of a woodstove. He turned his head to see it better and it elongated itself like hot taffy down the side of the stove and vanished headfirst in the earth without a sound.”
Cormac McCarthy“He lived with his mother, father and sister; had a room of his own, with the fourth-floor windows staring on seas of rooftops and the glitter of winter nights when home lights brownly wave beneath the heater whiter blaze of stars--those stars that in the North, in the clear nights, all hang frozen tears by the billions, with January Milky Ways like silver taffy, veils of frost in the stillness, huge blinked, throbbing to the slow beat of time and universal blood.”
Jack Kerouac, Maggie Cassidy“Writers use both their blood and their brains to explore the darkest recesses of their pooling self. Writing allows us to harness the whimsy of the collaborative mind and body, pull our tissue apart like taffy, and expose the composition of our life sustaining organs. Telling our personal story forces us to account for any actions that made us laugh, cry, scream and shout, or hide behind a cloak of mootness. Critical examination of the self allows one to disintegrate the envelope of their present personality and make up a new imaging.”
Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls