Quotes About Tea

To me, tea taste like dried lawn-clippings, diluted leaf mould, watered-down compost mixed with a dash of bovine bodily fluid.

I am the only tea abstainer in my family. I think they regard this as a baffling perversion. To me, tea tastes like dried lawn clippings, diluted leaf mold, watered down compost mixed with a dash of bovine bodily fluid. I have never been able to stomach it.

The Irish are good in a crisis, Michael Francis thinks, as he eases back the clingfilm on a tray of sandwiches his aunt Bridie has left in the kitchen. They know what to do, what traditions must be observed; they bring food, casseroles, pies, they dole out tea. They know how to discuss bad news: in murmurs, with shakes of the head, their accents wrapping themselves around the syllables of misfortune. A

That was sarcasm. I cannot read tea leaves. I mean, not unless someone lines them up in the shapes of letters.)

She poured out Swann's tea, inquired "Lemon or cream?" and, on his answering "Cream, please," said to him with a laugh: "A cloud!" And as he pronounced it excellent, "You see, I know just how you like it." This tea had indeed seemed to Swann, just as it seemed to her; something precious, and love has such a need to find some justification for itself, some guarantee of duration, in pleasures which without it would have no existence and must cease with its passing.

And each time the cowardice that deters us from every difficult task, every important enterprise, has urged me to leave the thing alone, to drink my tea and to think merely of the worries of today and my hopes for tomorrow, which can be brooded over painlessly.

He takes two tea bags in a four-ounce cup and he doesn't mince words: when a pair of earnest British journalists once asked him how he thought the tigers could be saved, his answer, "AIDS," caught them off guard. "But don't you care about people?" one of them asked. "Not really," he replied. "Especially not the Chinese.

What sort of Englishman is forever too busy for tea? The nose-to-the-grindstone sort, to begin with. The sort who gets ahead without connections, who makes something of himself without benefit of small talk or social lubrication or the seeking of personal kindnesses.

Tea is certainly as much of a social drink as coffee, and more domestic, for the reason that the teacup hours are the family hours.

I fear it as little as to drink a cup of tea.

Life is like making tea. Boil your ego, evaporate your thoughts, dilute your sorrows, filter your mistakes and get a taste of happiness.

be making her tea; or, if my aunt were feeling 'upset,' she would ask instead for her 'tisane,' and it would be my duty to shake out of the chemist's little package on to a plate the amount of lime-blossom required for infusion in boiling water.

I'm an afternoon tea type of girl. I come from a Russian background where we love our teas. So between lunch and dinner after training I come home and I love a nice cup of tea with jam in it, as we drink it there. Black English Breakfast with raspberry jam is my favorite.

What a fine weather today! Can't choose whether to drink tea or to hang myself.

Tea should be as bitter as wormwod and as sharp as a two eged swordKit Snicket (a series of unfortunate events)

What did the soup say to the tea plate? "You're too shallow for me. I like deep dish to dip right into!" I still keep my British humour in good taste. No room for egos or rumours.

Every morning I read the obituaries. If it ain't there I make myself a cup of tea and carry on like I have the past century or so.

Liza took her time sipping her tea. "That's what I hear Janet. Of course, living it up can take years off your life and add them to your face.

I view the tea-drinking as a destroyer of health, an enfeebler of the frome, an engender of effeminacy and laziness, a debaucher of youth and maker of misery for old age.

I've never cooked. I can't do much more in the kitchen than make a cup of tea and some toast.

And so it continued all day, wynde after wynde, from a room beyond came the whistle of a teakettle. "Now, you really must join me. I've some marvelous Darjeeling, and some delicious petits fours a friend of mine gave me for Christmas.

how gracious seem the small gifts that may come - a patch of sunlight on a cold floor, an unexpected gesture of friendship, the fragrant steam of hot tea.

Spike (to Giles) : Oh, poor Watcher. Did your life pass before your eyes — 'Cuppa tea, cuppa tea... almost got shagged... cuppa tea'?

I hire tea by the tea bag.