Quotes About Bread

The guy appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Zere is no more bread," he confessed tragically, like someone admitting witchcraft to the Inquisition.

Det bästa målet är en nattlång rast, där elden tänds och brödet bryts i hast. På ställen, där man sover blott en gång, blir sömnen trygg och drömmen full av sång.

Do you bake bread at home? Try to make a loaf of Wonder Bread. Just try. Believe me, you can't do it. No home baker can. You'd need a laboratory and millions of dollars of equipment to achieve such a remarkably bland creation. American mass-market beer is exactly the same thing. It's undead.

Hope is the poor man's bread.

Eating chestnuts is a sign of poverty. Because wheat bread is eaten in the city, chestnut bread is associated with the poor country table.

Writing is] a trade [or]...a means of livelihood. You pass your imagination through the ink bottle, and it comes out in the shape of bread and meat, coats and shoes. [Julian Hawthorne]

And the looks on the faces of my countrymenpassive heads bent arms at their trousers everyone guilty of not being their best of not earning their daily bread the kind of docility I had never expected from Americans even after so many years of our decline. Here was the tiredness of failure imposed on a country that believed only in its opposite. Here was the end product of our deep moral exhaustion.

The saddest part of the story to me is that no one talked about the duplicity. The missing bread was never mentioned. The people were silent. ———

emotional memories: A song can elicit a feeling, an association with an experience that took place years ago. The smell of roasted turkey or freshly baked bread may elicit a warm sense of belonging, or a melancholy sense of a lost past.

The days hardened with cold and boredom like last year's loaves of bread. One began to cut them with blunt knives without appetite, with a lazy indifference.

Life is made up of an innumerable number of small acts, not considered worth doing by those who are guided by selfish considerations. Of the countless millions of kind and generous acts done, but few would have been done had it been necessary to reason out just in what way the bread "cast upon the waters" would return.

My father was a schoolteacher once before he became an engineer and breac is a word, he explains, that the Irish people brought with them when they were crossing over into the English language. It means speckled, dappled, flecked, spotted, coloured. A trout is brack and so is a speckled horse. A barm brack is a loaf of bread with raisins in it and was borrowed from the Irish words bairín breac. So we are the speckled-Irish, the brack-Irish. Brack home-made Irish bread with German raisins.

complete standstill in all literary and artistic progress of any kind since Hitler because of the absence of Jews, the former leaven in the heavy German bread

He was talking – exploding – about something else. What a relief it was, he said as he began to cool down, to see a representation of a bourgeois interior, of a loaf of bread on a board beside a knife, of a couple skating on a frozen canal hand in hand, trying to seize a moment of fun 'while the fucking priest wasn't looking. Thank God for the Dutch!

What nature wants, commodious gold bestows; 'Tis thus we cut the bread another sows.

Work is about a search 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. Studs Terkel

Work is about a search for daily meaning as well as daily bread.

Parents of well-behaved children were surprised to notice an improvement in schoolwork when switching to unpreserved bread.

For my last meal, I'd want an Irish breakfast with soda bread and one of my dad's omelettes with three or four eggs.

I make a mean Irish soda bread every Christmas and give it out to friends and family.

The telephone voice is but a seduction, a bread crumb to an appetite.

On the first day of his holiday Laurence Manders woke to hear his grandmother's voice below. 'I'll have a large wholemeal. I've got my grandson stopping for a week, who's on the BBC. That's my daughter's boy, Lady Manders. He won't eat white bread, one of his fads.' Laurence shouted from the window, 'Grandmother, I adore white bread and I have no fads.

Even the air of this country has a story to tell about warfare. It is possible here to lift a piece of bread from a plate and, following it back to its origins, collect a dozen stories concerning war – how it affected the hand that pulled it out of the oven, the hand that kneaded the dough, how war impinged upon the field where the wheat was grown.

These are the components of marriage, the wholemeal bread of life, rough, ordinary, but sustaining; Linda had been feeding upon honey-dew, and that is an incomparable diet