Best 1447 quotes in «coffee quotes» category

I kept waiting for this momentous breakdown, with everything crashing down in some spectacular show. What I didn't recognize, is that all along I had been crumbling slowly and quietly, like unfired clay. It's almost boring how unspectacular it is. Nothing earth shattering happened, in fact that's the problem; day after day nothing happens. You just feel incapable, unfocused, disorganized, and defeated. Make some strong coffee and get to work. You're not alone.

I like my coffee like I like myself....making rustling noises inside a burlap bag

Il est une liqueur, au poëte plus chère, Qui manquait à Virgile, et qu'adorait Voltaire ; C'est toi, divin café, dont l'aimable liqueur Sans altérer la tête épanouit le coeur.

I like to go to Starbucks and watch the intellectuals. I observe them and their intellectualness. They in turn observe me drinking coffee and being a creeper.

I'll know coffee works without cream and sugar when I see people buying unsweetened bakers chocolate for Valentine's Day.

I'll share my life with you. But, not my doughnuts.

I love America for its bourgeois comfort. If I was as heavily in debt as they are, I wouldn't be drinking tea or coffee anywhere. I would be sipping tap water from an old bottle and serving others tea or coffee in a cafe somewhere.

I love coffee. I sometimes get excited at night thinking of the coffee I’ll get to drink in the morning. Coffee is reason to wake up. There are other reasons, of course. But coffee is the incentive, at the very least.

I love that there's such a rivalry. It's like, leaf water versus bean water, ya know? - Charlie

I love the smell of coffee when I wake up in the morning. It gives me the awesome feeling of hope!

I'm a coffee expert. I'm not a medical expert, but I play one on TV. - on Oprah Winfrey interview

I'm going to buy you coffee and you're going to pretend it's truth serum and tell me everything.

I'm not a purist. Coffee drinking minus cream and sugar is an acquired taste. I'm still not sure it isn't like telling chefs to dispense with spices in cooking.

I’m mesmerized by lipstick prints on coffee cups. By the lines of lips against white pottery. By the color chosen by the woman who sat and sipped and lived life. By the mark she leaves behind. Some people read tea leaves and others can tell your future through the lines on your palm. I think I’d like to read lipstick marks on coffee mugs. To learn how to differentiate yearning from satiation. To know the curve of a deep-rooted joy or the line of bottomless grief. To be able to say, this deep blue red you chose and how firmly you planted your lips, this speaks of love on the horizon. But, darling, you must be sure to stand in your own truth. That barely-there nude that circles the entire rim? You are exploding into lightness and possibilities beyond what you currently know. The way the gloss only shows when the light hits it and the coffee has sloshed all over the saucer? people need to take the time to see you whole but my god, you’re glorious and messy and wonderful and free. The deep purple bruise almost etched in a single spot and most of the cup left unconsumed? Oh love. Let me hold the depth of your ache. It is true. He’s not coming back. I know you already know this, but do you also know this is not the end? Love. This is not the end. I imagine that I can know entire stories by these marks on discarded mugs. Imagine that I know something intimate and true of the woman who left them. That I could take those mugs home one day and an entire novel worth of characters would pour out, just like that.

I'm not everyone's cup of tea, because I'm a kick butt cappuccino with extra milk fluff and chocolate sprinkles!

I need coffee to deal with this, and I’m not getting decaf.

I need COFFEE to help me change the things I can... and WINE to help me accept the things I can't!

In a caffeinated state of mind, I talk many languages. A few hours later, I say hello to a known stranger.

I never said I liked coffee better than sex. I said I'd had it more.

I need to espresso love by whatever beans necessary.

Invece eccoci qui insieme, soddisfatti e sereni, ricchi e famosi, con un rapporto col sesso decisamente normale come bere un caffè: infatti ci piaceva forte e caldo, da consumare preferibilmente parecchie volte al giorno

Insomniacs should not be forced to exist in a realm with reflective glass. From the first look I’m boxed in a prism, rainbows charming the other dark-circled self into sharing my prison. One eye turns on the other, each accusing the other of being responsible for an appearance oddly elfin, before exiting head and bouncing like lottery balls through the mirror walls and then drifting up and out the open and unguarded Well of the Wyrd. There, everyone with mirrors and mushrooms is waiting for me, faded and dissolved into giggles.

In this world, there are only a few things more available than gasoline: coffee, soda and beer. Oh, and bad advice.

I sauntered to the kitchen, where the lone pot of afternoon coffee had been reduced to thick black syrup. Glad that no one was around to watch, I filled a Styrofoam cup halfway with the molten matter, swished it, and sniffed. Nose of burning rubber, with light tar accents. I topped it off with Sparklett's, then nuked it. Kills the germs.

I ordered a single espresso because I wanted a drink I could hook up with.

I ordered my favorite drink; vanilla iced blended coffee with whipped cream and caramel sauce on top. The whipped cream and caramel sauce were the best. Usually when no one was watching, I would lick the inside of the lid to get every last drop of the addictive syrup. Once, my dad caught me doing this and started laughing. I'd gotten caramel plastered over my nose. If Colt had ever seen me do this, I would never live it down. Glancing around, I indulged shamelessly and grinned." -Cheyenne

Safety first! Just kidding. Coffee first, Safety's, like , third or fourth. -MEME

I set the coffee aside and got a cup of water instead. I could never see why people drank that stuff. It tasted like soil boiled in mud, wit a topping of dirt.

I should've suspected trouble when the coffee failed to arrive.

I signed over my entire business for the sum of ten pounds and a gorilla-shaped hat. It would have been twenty pounds but I really wanted that hat.

I should never do anything pre-coffee. 'It was only a teeny fire,' I told my uncle over the phone.

I sip my coffee. If you've never had black coffee, here's what it's like: death. Bitter, angry, hot death, crawling inside your mouth and taking off the socks it's been wearing all summer and wiping its gross, sweaty feet on the very back of your tongue, and then pushing you in the backs of your eyeballs. That, plus dirt. That's what black coffee is like.

I stopped thinking and watched in horror as Tex banged the portafilter on top of the espresso machine. Monty hit a button and was drowned out by Tex’s voice shouting, “Fucking steam! Give me some more fucking steam, you monster!” Which was followed by Duke shouting, “It only gives as much steam as it gives, man!” Wonderful.

I snatched up the cardboard cup, plastered my lips to the plastic sippy-lid and sucked down a scalding hot mouthful. It burned, but I didn’t give a damn. I held the cup to my chest as if it were my most special friend while feeling the instant affect the coffee had on my mood and I smiled. “Hello lover.

I stood in your doorway this morning dreaming you’d turn around you’d tilt your head you’d softly whisper ”stay” or that you’d grab my arms to shake me while asking what the hell are we doing we love each other and this is not right so we will make this work now stay! You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal man with your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked on and the streets are so clean here people rushing to work and maybe I should be too by now at this age this stage this town. I will stand in that doorway dreaming for many nights to come.

I surround myself with books when I write, thus surrounding myself with writers... only they don't critique me and then get up for coffee.

I think much of a #writerslife is figuring out how much coffee is needed to fuel madness & creativity while avoiding having to pee.

I thought of the cool, fresh air of the city I'd always dreamed of living in. The art museums and trolleys and the mysterious fog that blanketed it. I could almost smell the cappuccinos I'd planned to drink in bohemian cafes or hear the indie music in the bookstores I would spend my free time in. I pictured the friends I'd make, my kindred art people, and the dorm room I was supposed to move into.

It rather goes without saying that Katherine drank her coffee black. Katherines do, generally. They like their coffee like they like their ex-boyfriends: bitter.

It is you who decides what you have, even if it be nothing.

It's a five pots of liquid sleep kind of morning.

It turned out people truly did cry into their coffee cups.

I'ts not just a cup of coffee !!! “Coffee is lot like people” Coffee is a language in itself. In many ways, It’s Complex, Just like Humans. It’s Dark, Just like our Soul. It’s Black, Just like Grief. It’s Addictive, Just like love. It’s Pure, Just like our heart. It’s Sweet, Just like our Memories. It’s Strong yet Grind, Just like our Determination. It’s Blended, Just like our Feelings. It’s Tantalizing, Just like our Emotions. It’s Rewarding, As it is easy to Confess anything over a Cup of Coffee.

It's early on a beautiful winter morning. The house is quiet. The sun is shining. I'm thankful. I'm happy. My cup runneth over. Now there's coffee everywhere.

It's Hard to order just a black coffee these days. That's the kind of miserable world we live in.

It's mechanical," Leo said. "Maybe a doorway to the dwarfs' secret lair?" "Ooooo!" shrieked a nearby voice. "Secret lair?" "I want a secret lair!" yelled another voice from above. ... "If we had a secret lair," said Red Fur, "I would want a firehouse pole." "And a waterslide!" said Brown Fur, who was pulling random tools out of Leo's belt, tossing aside wrenches, hammers, and staple guns. "Stop that!" Leo tried to grab the dwarf's feet, but he couldn't reach the top of the pedestal. "Too short?" Brown Fur sympathized. "You're calling me short?" Leo looked around for something to throw, but there was nothing but pigeons, and he doubted he could catch one. "Give me my belt, you stupid-" "Now, now!" said Brown Fur. "We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Akmon, and my brother over there-" "-is the handsome one!" The red-furred dwarf lifted his espresso. Judging from his dilated eyes and maniacal grin, he didn't need any more caffeine. "Passolos! Singer of songs! Drinker of coffee! Stealer of shiny stuff!

It's over," Keelie said. Too bad. But I want you to know, I will always love you." She narrowed her eyes and said, "When you look at me and say that, are you thinking of Dolly Parton or Whitney Houston?" Burt Reynolds," he said. She nearly spit out her coffee when she laughed, then she said, "That almost makes me want to try again.

It was a very ordinary day, the day I realised that my becoming is my life and my home and that I don't have to do anything but trust the process, trust my story and enjoy the journey. It doesn't really matter who I've become by the finish line, the important things are the changes from this morning to when I fall asleep again, and how they happened, and who they happened with. An hour watching the stars, a coffee in the morning with someone beautiful, intelligent conversations at 5am while sharing the last cigarette. Taking trains to nowhere, walking hand in hand through foreign cities with someone you love. Oceans and poetry. It was all very ordinary until my identity appeared, until my body and mind became one being. The day I saw the flowers and learned how to turn my daily struggles into the most extraordinary moments. Moments worth writing about. For so long I let my life slip through my fingers, like water. I'm holding on to it now, and I'm not letting go.

It was normal to drink two pots of coffee during an extreme night shift.

It was as if the air was fragranced with potential and the coffee flavoured with facts.