Quotes About Coffee

I used to think of that line in Allen Ginsberg's 'Howl', about the 'sad cup of coffee'.. ..I have had cold coffee and hot coffee and lousy coffee, But I've never had a sad cup of coffee.

Of all the unchristian beverages that ever passed my lips, Turkish coffee is the worst. The cup is small, it is smeared with grounds; the coffee is black, thick, unsavory of smell, and execrable in taste. The bottom of the cup has a muddy sediment in it half an inch deep. This goes down your throat, and portions of it lodge by the way, and produce a tickling aggravation that keeps you barking and coughing for an hour.

Diane Coffee is just the part of me that has always been a performer. It's something that's always been there and Diane Coffee is just the name I've given her for this project. But I was always the one who would raid mom's closet and get all dressed up and put on crazy weird shows in the living room or film little movies.

Talon glanced wistfully at his drink as he debated what should take priority. 'Coffee... Daimons... Coffee... Daimons...

Many people claim coffee inspires them, but, as everybody knows, coffee only makes boring people even more boring.

Coffee is the highlight of my day. After coffee everything is downhill.

I'm also lonely. I'll admit it. I go to Twitter because I'm lonely. I get my coffee in the morning, and I live alone. I get on Twitter, and I sit and have my coffee. Sometimes I'll look at it for 30 minutes. I will waste a lot of time on Twitter. I do! But it's my guilty pleasure. And I'll look for some happy stories to retweet, and I'll say some uplifting things to people. I try not to get caught into - I used to get tangled up into some crazy stuff. But I try not to do that anymore.

How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.

Want coffee?" I asked, as I headed that way. "It's three thirty in the morning." "Okay. Want coffee?

Where is the coffee emoji where is the coffee emoji aaaah yes in the bell section of course

Dali blinked at me. "Would you mind making coffee while you're dancing? I smell it on the bottom shelf, either first or second jar on the left." I opened the first jar and looked inside. Coffee. The label said BORAX. "What's up with the labels?" Dali shrugged. "You're in the house of a cat whose job is to spy. He thinks he's clever. I'd be careful with the silverware drawer. There might be a bomb in it.

As soon as coffee is in your stomach, there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move…similes arise, the paper is covered. Coffee is your ally and writing ceases to be a struggle.

And this is how it started. Just with coffee and the exchange of their long stories. Love can be incremental. Predicaments, too. Coffee can start a life just as it can start a day. This was the meeting of two people who were destined to love from before they were born, from before they made choices that would complicate their lives. This love just rolled toward my mother as though she were standing at the bottom of a steep hill. Mother had no hand in this, only heart.

For sheer sensory enjoyment, few everyday experiences can compete with a good cup of coffee.

No coffee can be good in the mouth that does not first send a sweet offering of odor to the nostrils.

For I have known them all already, known them all— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

When I went home, my family became a little lonely family because it was just me and my mom. Part of my longing to go back to work was wanting to be surrounded by these people who were teaching me things and drinking bad coffee at three in the morning while we were lying around in a bikini in the winter. Somehow it just felt like real life. It felt more like real life than my life.

I'm kind of feeling like I don't mind being open with the random details of my life, like I'm at a coffee shop or my toe hurts or something, but obviously other more personal areas of life where I will just never really go there.

The influence of coffee in stimulating the genital organs is notorious.

This is a funny story. We'd asked the guards every day for cappuccino. You know, just as a joke. And they'd come in with their cups of coffee and stuff. And so I get here and I have a spot for a cappuccino machine, and it didn't work. So I don't have any cappuccino ... I didn't miss the cappuccino, I missed the idea of cappuccino.

English grammar is so complex and confusing for the one very simple reason that its rules and terminology are based on Latin - a language with which it has precious little in common. In Latin, to take one example, it is not possible to split an infinitive. So in English, the early authorities decided, it should not be possible to split an infinitive either. But there is no reason why we shouldn't, any more than we should forsake instant coffee and air travel because they weren't available to the Romans.

Don't buy preground coffee.

Mona knocked at the wrong time. “Uh…yeah…wait a minute, Mona -- ” Mona shouted through the door. “Room service, gentlemen. Just pull the covers up.” Michael grinned at Jon. “My roommate. Brace yourself.” Seconds later, Mona burst through the doorway with a tray of coffee and croissants. “Hi! I’m Nancy Drew! You must be the Hardy Boys!

Oh, me? I'm not 80% water. I'm 80% coffee, and a little bit of sass.

It's perfect. It's awesome. Every day is just filled with just wins. All we do is put wins in the record books. We win so radically in our underwear before our first cup of coffee, it's scary. People say it's lonely at the top, but I sure like the view.

I don't know where my ideas come from. I will admit, however, that one key ingredient is caffeine. I get a couple cups of coffee into me and weird things just start to happen.

Working from home meant we could vary snack and coffee breaks, change our desks or view, goof off, drink on the job, even spend the day in pajamas, and often meet to gossip or share ideas. On the other hand, we bossed ourselves around, set impossible goals, and demanded longer hours than office jobs usually entail. It was the ultimate "flextime," in that it depended on how flexible we felt each day, given deadlines, distractions, and workaholic crescendos.

Half-drunk on well-creamed gas station coffee and the exhilarating loneliness of a freeway in nighttime.

We shall prepare the coffee of reconciliation through the filter of justice. Through reconciliation, streams of tears will come to our eyes.

I hope some day to make you all a cup of coffee. Alright, peace.

I'm kind of a creature of the alt-weekly universe - my real education into higher culture was acquired in coffee shops, reading those papers, digging into that lively mishmash of opinion for drift, a sense of what to see, what to hear, what to read, etc. - and I'd like to think that scene's still vital, although I understand there's been a fair amount of conglomerating, which would seem to undercut its radical roots, its funky local flavor. I'd encourage any writer with an eye for life and an ear for prose to give it a try. You can work out your chops just fine in newsprint.

Some friends of mine work in an office. They were getting really nervous from their coffee breaks, so they started to have wig breaks. They tried on wigs for 15 minutes. They found this relaxing. So that's Wig Therapy.

My wife thinks a B&B is a romantic getaway. I think it's creepy, sharing coffee with strangers who were eavesdropping on you the night before.

American coffee can be a pale solution served at a temperature of 100oC

You know, just sometimes, in between the first cigarette with coffee in the morning to that four hundredth glass of cornershop piss at 3am, you do sometimes look at yourself and think...This is fantastic. I'm in heaven.

There is no fountain of youth, What you put into your body is what you get out of it. You would not feed your dog a coffee and doughnut for breakfast followed by a cigarette. You will kill the damn dog.

We talked about politics constantly in my family growing up in North Carolina. There were always debates. Being of Greek background, it's in our blood to drink coffee and talk politics.

I served seven years as the chair of the Princeton economics department where I had responsibility for major policy decisions, such as whether to serve bagels or doughnuts at the department coffee hour.

I go to coffee shops for my outlet. Which is just not healthy at all.

Politics now is rather like going into Starbucks for a coffee.

It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity.

When it's all over and the on the air signs go off there isn't a more lost feeling in the world. The wonderful, exciting, even glamorous, studio is now just a room dirty with coffee cartons and cigarette butts.

Coffee which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes.

For me, the beauty of the blank page, or empty screen,staring up at nine thirty after two cups of coffee and a deep breath remains unique. The blankness invites scribbling on, mental drawing , and the best feeling I know - apart from the more obvious sensual ones - is the feeling of putting down the first thought and seeing it turn into symbols. Making an idea into an emotion.

I don't like soccer. I think it makes you soft. And by the way, you telling me it's the biggest whatever in the World, look, they drink tea everywhere too; they're pussies, you understand? I want some coffee.

If I were running a campaign, I'd urge taking the mountain of money reportedly squandered on pizza, coffee and bagels and spending it more wisely - on a talented young comedy writer.

I looked up to find a slim blond figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. For a frozen second, I looked at him and he looked at me, and then I screamed and threw my coffee, which hit him square in the groin.

I go "I just want a cup of black coffee." She goes "Do you want to try a biscotti? They're from Italy and they're considered a delicacy." Have you ever eaten one of these things? It tastes like a burned cookie. Where I'm from, that's considered a mistake.