Quotes About Coffee

Bobby sips his coffee. "If there wasn't coffee on this earth, I'd be dead.

The English were luckier in their drugs, too: long habituated to alcohol, they were roused from inebriation in the seventeenth century by American tobacco, Arabic coffee and Chinese tea. They got the stimulation of the coffee house, part café, part stock exchange, part chat-room;47 the Chinese ended up with the lethargy of the opium den, their pipes filled by none other than the British East India Company.

She liked to sit on the front porch in the afternoons and read books she'd checked out from the library. Aside from coffee, reading was her only indulgence.

Aside from coffee, reading was her only indulgence.

When I was a kid, I loved having muffins and cupcakes and I still like them with coffee.

My children know not to shout before Mummy has warmed herself into something human with her coffee.

My husband is a musician, and 'Paste' is one of his favorite places to be interviewed by.

I think one day I can make a book about coffee shops in Hong Kong. I spent almost most of my time in coffee shops, in different coffee shops.

I drink coffee 30 minutes before I want to nap. I think that really helps.

Toast? Multigrain or sourdough?" Deputy Dave poured himself a cup of coffee and sat. "I'd rather have sourdough, but my wife has me on a strict diet of whole grain. I eat so much fiber I could pass wicker furniture.

Coffee. It was decisive. Without their women, their chosen drink would always be what it had been.

She knew it should bother her more, being evil and all, but after she put on a little mascara and some lipstick and poured herself another cup of blood-laced coffee, she found that she was okay with it.

American coffee can be a pale solution served at a temperature of 100 degrees centigrade in plastic thermos cups, usually obligatory in railroad stations for purposes of genocide, whereas coffee made with an American percolator, such as you find in private houses or in humble luncheonettes, served with eggs and bacon, is delicious, fragrant, goes down like pure spring water, and afterwards causes severe palpitations, because one cup contains more caffeine than four espressos.

In America you don't say, "Give me another coffee"; you ask for "More coffee"; you don't say that cigarette A is longer than cigarette B, but that there's "more" of it, more than you're used to having, more than you might want, leaving a surplus to throw away—that's prosperity.

E café con leche para dos,' Berrocal added with a wicked grin at the disappearing back.

Coffee?" Isabelle finger-combed her hair and tied a cotton scarf around her head. "No, merci, it is too precious." The old woman gave her a smile. "No one suspects a woman my age of anything. It makes me good at trading. Here." She offered Isabelle a cracked porcelain mug full of steaming black coffee. Real coffee. Isabelle wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed deeply of the familiar, never-again-to-be-taken-for-granted aroma. Madame

As she passed a café filled with German

That is why I love Starbucks. It doesn't matter how much money you have or what social world you're from, chances are you will still eventually end up at a Starbucks in order to revel in the taste sensation provided by the Frappuccino. It is the great equalizer of our time.

Now, Lovecraft was notoriously fond of sweets. He consumed vast quantities of chocolate and ice cream; he so saturated his coffee with sugar that a sticky mass was left in the cup. If he was hyperinsulinic, such a practice was guaranteed to cause a collapse of the kind he told about.

My kingdom for caffeine," she mumbled, making prayer hands up at the ceiling. When, however, in the next second, Issa entered with tea, Zuzana was not grateful. " Coffee , I meant coffee ," she told the ceiling, as if the universe were a waiter that had gotten her order wrong.

In New York I pretty much live in diners - I order French Fries, Diet Coke floats and lots of coffee.

Alec slid his hand from Jace's arm to his shoulder. Magnus cleared his throat. Alec dropped his hand. Simon grinned into his undrunk coffee.

Just coffee. Black—like my soul.

I brought you some coffee." he held out the cup but she waved it away. "I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know." -Luke and Clary, pg.209-