His mind was like a soup dish, wide and shallow; it could hold a small amount of nearly anything, but the slightest… — Irving Stone Copy Share Image
[To waiter who had spilled soup on her:] Never darken my Dior again! — Beatrice Lillie Copy Share Image
“Dr. Philbosian smelled like an old couch, of hair oil and spilled soup, of unscheduled naps.” — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image