Best 1447 quotes in «coffee quotes» category

Cup of Joe There's nothing like a cup of joe, when the morning's grey and grim and slow, when the streets collide with the world outside, when litter lies where lilies grow. Just drink that smoking cup of black and feel your feelings surging back. Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shop will sprout up from a sidewalk crack!

Dari semua macam kopi yang pernah kusesapi, aku paling suka kopi yang ada tanganmu di setiap seduhannya. Kopi yang cangkirnya, tak bercampur dengan penghuni kedua matamu. Apa arti seduhan kopi tanpa sisi yang tak terisi? Sesepi hati perempuan yang penantiannya tak kunjung dilunasi.

Delectable,” Ulysses said. “Of all the drinks that I have drank on all the planets I have visited, the coffee is the best.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, COFFEE and acceptance…The SIX stages of waking up!!

Denn eine Sache ist, daß der Kaffee gut ist, eine andere, daß man sich das nicht ohne weiteres als selbstverständlich anmerken lassen darf.

Dengan memagut secangkir kopi, aku berlindung dari godaan kesepian yang merasuk.

Descendants of de Clieu's original plant were also proliferating in the region, in Haiti, Cuba, Costa Rica, and Venezuela. Ultimately, Brazil became the world's dominant coffee supplier, leaving Arabia far behind.

Di dalam secangkir kopi yang nikmat, terdapat air putih yang sehat.

Did you just do that math in your head?" Farkas asked the admiral. Janeway nodded. "I've already had my coffee.

El café con leche es como el café, pero con leche.

Drinking coffee with your ex is healthy. It's good for the soul.

Either way, he figured a cup of coffee would hit the spot. For what is more versatile? As at home in tin as it is in Limoges, coffee can energize the industrious at dawn, calm the reflective at noon, or raise the spirits of the beleagured in the middle of the night.

Endure for another day, Mister Tannen, and you'll have all the foul black misuse of water you can drink.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that fairy tales aren't real. I drink a potion made from magic beans every day, and it brings me back to life.

Don't stir all the warmth out of your coffee; drink it.

Epitaph. Not next year, not the next one, Not the year after that. But ages From here, Clad in love stained sleeping bags, Dying with feet wrapped in endless Shirts and pillow cases, Crumbling with 99 flakes clutched Between thumb and palm, dripping Yellow cream from twig fingers, Basking our white haired chests on Green grassed parks under purple Skies. Laughing over coffee after Bath tubs of coffee have passed Through our guts. Huddled, lonely, Under heaped clothes, here lay us...

Fucking Hell! I just want a coffee.

Ethiopia is the center of origin and diversity for the majority of coffee we drink. The commodification of coffee pushes farmers to grow as much as possible by whatever means possible. This has contributed to deforestation. The place where coffee was born - the area with the greatest biodiversity of coffee anywhere in the world - could disappear. No forest, no coffee. No coffee, no forest. What we lose isn't specific to Ethiopia; it impacts us all.

Even nihilists put sugar in their coffee to make it more sweet.

For dinner I had 20 ounces of coffee and 5 Kraft singles. Am I going to die?

Follow the ideal doing, grind the beans just before brewing. Use spring water, for softened water, makes a horror. A parley perfect, between the coffee, and the milk, with some, brown sugar thick.” (Poem: An apology of a coffee lunatic, Book: Ginger and Honey)

For more than three decades, coffee has captured my imagination because it is a beverage about individuals as well as community. A Rwandan farmer. Eighty roast masters at six Starbucks plants on two continents. Thousands of baristas in 54 countries. Like a symphony, coffee's power rests in the hands of a few individuals who orchestrate its appeal. So much can go wrong during the journey from soil to cup that when everything goes right, it is nothing short of brilliant! After all, coffee doesn't lie. It can't. Every sip is proof of the artistry -- technical as well as human -- that went into its creation.

Fueled by my inspiration, I ran across the room to steal the cup of coffee the bookshelf had taken prisoner. Lapping the black watery brew like a hyena, I tossed the empty cup aside. I then returned to the chair to continue my divine act of creation. Hot blood swished in my head as my mighty pen stole across the page.

Getting shot was an experience that Elise ranked on the “unpleasantness” scale right around “trying to survive a week without coffee.

…he quit drinking coffee, and naturally, his brain stopped working.

Good. Coffee is good for you. It's the caffeine in it. Caffeine, we are here. Caffeine puts a man on her horse and a woman in his grave.

Having charged your brain with a cup of coffee, you’re ready to face some more challenges of life.

Having charged your heart and brain with a cup of coffee, you’re ready to face the challenges of life.

He eyed her warily. “Did Pearl give you coffee?” “Yes.” “How many cups?” “Just three. It’s quite good with cream and sugar.” “Have you ever had it before?” “No. Why? What does that have to do with anything? I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Why are my knees shaking?” “Pearl!” Pearl peeked around the wall. “Well! She had a headache. I didn’t think she’d act like a squirrel. And I didn’t know she had three cups.” “A headache?” Maximillion murmured. He turned to Isadora, pointing to the nearest chair. “Sit down.” “I don’t want to.” “Sit. Down.

Here I am with my coffee in hand and typing away to Glory My nights are spent talking to the Moon and making love to Poetry!

Her gaze wavered towards one of the books on the sales counter beside the register, a hardcover copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with many of the pages dog-eared and stained with coffee and tea. The store owner caught her looking at it and slid it across the counter towards her. “You ever read Hamlet?” he questioned. “I tried to when I was in high school,” said Mandy, picking up the book and flipping it over to read the back. “I mean, it’s expected that everyone should like Shakespeare’s books and plays, but I just….” her words faltered when she noticed him laughing to himself. “What’s so funny, Sir?” she added, slightly offended. “…Oh, I’m not laughing at you, just with you,” said the store owner. “Most people who say they love Shakespeare only pretend to love his work. You’re honest Ma’am, that’s all. You see, the reason you and so many others are put-off by reading Shakespeare is because reading his words on paper, and seeing his words in action, in a play as they were meant to be seen, are two separate things… and if you can find a way to relate his plays to yourself, you’ll enjoy them so much more because you’ll feel connected to them. Take Hamlet for example – Hamlet himself is grieving over a loss in his life, and everyone is telling him to move on but no matter how hard he tries to, in the end all he can do is to get even with the ones who betrayed him.” “…Wow, when you put it that way… sure, I think I’ll buy a copy just to try reading, why not?” Mandy replied with a smile.

Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his smile quickly disappearing in the face of her murderous glance when she raised her face to look at him. “Shut up and die, morning person. Coffee,” she mumbled. Right. Note to self. Mate was not a morning person. He poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the table near her hand along with the sweetener and cream. He watched as she poured three packets of Equal into the coffee with her forehead still on the table. He looked on in amazement as she felt around and unscrewed the cap to the cream before dousing the dark liquid. She stirred for a second before dragging the cup to her lips. After a few sips she was able to lift her head. By the time she had finished half a cup she was sitting upright. When she finished the cup, her eyes were open and she was looking around. “You need to be a coffee commercial,” Connor said, staring at his mate.

He asked her for coffee, but she wanted tea instead.

He had to find her. But where? Ted deliberated this question while downing three espressos in the hotel lobby, letting the caffeine and vodka greet in his brain like fighting fish. Where to look for Sasha in this sprawling, malodorous city? He reviewed the strategies he'd already failed to execute: approaching dissolute kids at the train station and youth hostels, but no, no. He'd waited too long for any of that." (p. 224)

He looked down at my cup and his little, bony fingers started crawling towards it. I snatched it in front of him, pulling it closer to me. “Never. Touch. My. Coffee.”, my voice sounded colder than meant.

He tasted like coffee and spice, and as his hot mouth caressed hers, all she could do was kiss back, hungrily seeking everything he offered.

He went to make coffee. Because when you have just heard about the possible transformation of the human race into feral monsters you need to be doing something with your hands and creating something hot and comforting for another person.

Hier kömmt eine Nahrung, bei der man eher Grillen machen kann. Der liebe melancholische Kaffee!

I am Calumny Spinks. Between me and the satin blue sky hangs the hempen noose. It has swung there in the faintest of breezes, waiting for me, all my life.

His smile was like a Dylan album and a cup of coffee on a sunny afternoon

Hot coffee and cold winter mornings are two of the best soul mates who ever did find each other.

I alight at Esplanade in a smell of roasting coffee and creosote and walk up Royal Street. The lower Quarter is the best part. The ironwork on the balconies sags like rotten lace. Little French cottages hide behind high walls. Through deep sweating carriageways one catches glimpses of courtyards gone to jungle.

I am fine with coffee in the coldest night; I don't need wine to make the dark more romantic.

How are you feeling?" "Coffee.

Hvis ingen anden Nytte var ved Thee og Café, var dog denne, at Drukkenskab, som tilforn gik saa meget i Svang, derved temmelig er kommen af Brug. Nu kand vore Hustruer og Døttre giøre 10 Visiter en Eftermiddag, og komme gandske ædrue tilbage.

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun? I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without. I want to be someone you can’t live without.

I am not addicted to coffee, it find it's way every morning.

I am rather ashamed to admit that my knowledge of the Ice Age in Canada is very little, mostly because much of it was under ice until about 10,000 years ago. I am very sure we still had beavers. I am also equally sure we still had Tim Horton's, a prehistoric edifice which has a coffee blend that can only be described as fossilized.

I decline the coffee. I don't drink it, because no matter how much sugar I put into it, it still tastes like ass-water to me. Maybe it's because my taste buds are so desensitized to sweet that anything not comprised of at least ninety percent sugar tastes wrong

I can’t deal with angry people until after I’ve had my morning coffee.