Quotes About Bread

I hunger for the bread of God, the flesh of Jesus Christ ...; I long to drink of his blood, the gift of unending love.

I love sandwiches. Let's face it, life is better between two pieces of bread.

I basically love anything that comes in a hot dog bun... except hot dogs.

Ask for work. If they don't give you work, ask for bread. If they do not give you work or bread, then take bread.

An early New Thought writer said: "Knead love into the bread you bake; wrap strength and courage in the parcel you tie for the woman with the weary face; hand trust and candor with the coin you pay to the man with the suspicious eyes." This is beautifully said, and it sums up the Practice of the Presence of God.

Science is analytical, descriptive, informative. Man does not live by bread alone, but by science he attempts to do so. Hence the deadliness of all that is purely scientific.

The religion of Christ is not a tidbit after one's bread; on the contrary, it is the bread or it is nothing.

A world of possibilities is revealed in this gallery of bread.

Joy is more divine than sorrow; for joy is bread, and sorrow is medicine.

For breakfast, I always have eggs - whole eggs. I think the fats are really important. I also like turkey bacon and really hearty whole-grain bread. I'm very picky about it. You need bread that's high in fiber and low in carbs. It's hard to find, but it's worth it.

The difference between a bland tomato and great one is immense, much like the difference between a standard, sliced white bread and a crusty, aromatic sourdough.

I make gazpacho with a little bit of bread, so it's thicker, and I like it to be more tomato- and green pepper-based. Everyone has their own preferences, of course. But I think my gazpacho is the best.

I'm always down to try a new burger, but Shake Shack is still my top. What makes them so special is for the bread they use Martin's potato rolls which is just the best hamburger buns ever.

This, said Mother, as she handed him a piece of dry, tasteless matzoh, is the bread of our affliction. Where, young Kugel wondered, is the seven-layer cake of our salvation? Where is the muffin of our mirth? Where is our no-longer-reduced-to-jelly doughnut?

Once there was a queen in a palace of bread. Sing blue, sing white, stay up all night. She nibbled on the walls and gobbled up her bed. Sing white, sing blue, sing ballyhoo. The people begged a crumb from their robust queen. Sing blue, sing white, she ate all night. She would not share a thing until it turned green. So white, so blue, the mold it grew.

We long to feel good about our work. In his brilliant way of writing, Studs Terkel explained over 40 years ago what people wanted from their work efforts: "It is about a search, too, for daily meaning as well as daily bread, for recognition as well as cash, for astonishment rather than torpor; in short for a sort of life rather than a Monday through Friday sort of dying. . . . To be remembered was the wish, spoken and unspoken, of the heroes and heroines of this book."2

Nobody I ever broke bread with, and I see players all the time, talked about using their head running the football.

Plain fresh bread, its crust shatteringly crisp. Sweet cold butter. There is magic in the way they come together in your mouth to make a single perfect bite.

Give bread to a stranger, in the name of the universal brotherhood which binds together all men under the common father of nature.

Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry. Yes indeed.

For poems are not words after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry. Mary Oliver (1935-2019). This quote from 'A Poetry Handbook' (1994)

You have forgotten the doctrine of your own church, is it not so? The cross…the bread and wine…the confessional…only symbols. Without faith, the cross is only wood, the bread baked wheat, the wine sour grapes.

Common tools go on top. The commonest of all, the bread of writing, is vocabulary.

Norberg, drawing on Braudel, offers vignettes of this era of misery, when the definition of poverty was simple: "if you could afford to buy bread to survive another day, you were not poor.