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Quote wrote:Here is one of those rare films that qualify as aromatic. At moments you can actually taste Hoffman's Midsummer Night's Dream. Against its backdrop of gurgling fountains and piazzas, there are baskets of ripe tomatoes and garlic. Pasta dough is rolled flat across a table. Meat roasts slowly on a spit. There are cups of espresso and glasses of wine. Midsummer Night's Dream is more live-action Bon Appetit than Shakespearean comedy, and through it all, the fairies fly through the sky with playful abandon.
Thou art so leaky that we must leave thee to thy sinking.
You talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
If pasta be the food of love, serve on, give me surfeit of it
black bart wrote:You talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
Love's Labour's Lost.
Another obvious reference, here the object of the comment has been eating garlic rich pasta.
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