Best 1447 quotes in «coffee quotes» category

Never underestimate the power of a good cup of coffee.

New Rule: Gun-control people have to stop pressuring Starbucks to ban guns. I want my gun nuts overcaffeinated, twitchy, and accident-prone. That way, the problem will take care of itself. Plus, if just one gun nut kills just one pseudo-intellectual writing a screenplay-slash-graphic-novel on his iPad, natural selection is doing its job.

Nick drank the coffee, the coffee according to Hopkins. The coffee was bitter. Nick laughed. It made a good ending to the story. His mind was starting to work. He knew he could choke it because he was tired enough. He spilled the coffee out of the pot and shook the grounds loose into the fire. He lit a cigarette and went inside the tent. He took off his shoes and trousers, sitting on the blankets, rolled the shoes up inside the trousers for a pillow and got in between the blankets. Out through the front of the tent he watched the glow of the fire when the night wind blew on it. It was a quiet night. The swamp was perfectly quiet. Nick stretched under the blanket comfortably. A mosquito hummed close to his ear. Nick sat up and lit a match. The mosquito was on the canvas, over his head. Nick moved the match quickly up to it. The mosquito made a satisfactory hiss in the flame. The match went out. Nick lay down again under the blankets. He turned on his side and shut his eyes. He was sleepy. He felt sleep coming. He curled up under the blanket and went to sleep.

No coffee, no way.

No milk. It is black coffee, pure but strong, that fortifies against the powers of darkness with which the world is filled.

Nothing like a hot cup of black filtered coffee, none of that fancy espresso crap. Especially from those new pod machines. What is this, a spaceship?

Nurse!" Gay sat up, still dazed, but slowly awakening, in the lovely unaccustomed luxury of sheets. "I'm not mad, and I'm not ill, but I've been twenty thousand years away. And I haven't come back for gruel. Tell me: is there still some coffee left in the world?

Nu le era foame. Desfăcură un borcan cu dulceață, o cutie cu biscuiți, iar Jeanne făcu cu foarte mare grijă o cafea, din care mai rămăseseră vreo cincizeci de grame, o moca pură, rezervată până atunci marilor ocazii. -Dar ce ocazie mai mare vom găsi? întreabă Maurice. -Nici una de acest fel, sper, răspunse soția lui. Totuși, trebuie să recunoaștem că nu vom mai găsi curând o cafea ca asta, daca mai durează războiul. -Aproape că-i dai savoare păcatului, zise Maurice, inhalând aroma pe care o răspândea cafetiera.

Oh and P.S.? I am in dire need of more coffee. Industrial strength." "But we're going to sleep soon," I say. "I know." Laila shudders. "Addiction is a bitch.

Oh yes! I have couple-goals too. I love to couple myself with- Books, Coffee and Mountains.

Ölüm yaklaştığı zaman, dünya zevkleri çürür.

Ok so cotton is the fabric of our lives. But coffee is the liquid of our lives.

Oscar Wilde may have quipped that one can “never be overdressed or overeducated,” but Wilde did not live in our era of overeducated baristas.

One of the single most important things a writer must do, besides writing, is reading ... ... and drinking coffee.

One of Francie's favorite stores was the one which sold nothing but tea, coffee, and spices. It was an exciting place of rows of lacquered bins and strange, romantic, exotics odors. There were a dozen scarlet coffee bins with adventurous words written across the front in black China ink: Brazil! Argentine! Turkish! Java! Mixed Blend! The tea was in smaller bins: beautiful bins with sloping covers. They read: Oolong! Formosa! Orange Pekoe! Black China! Flowering Almond! Jasmine! Irish Tea! The spices were in miniature bins behind the counter. Their names marches in a row across the shelves: cinnamon-- cloves-- ginger-- all-spice-- ball nutmeg--curry-- peppercorns-- sage-- thyme-- marjoram.

Only two kinds of people drink their coffee black: cops and serial killers.

Our country is a place where hope can be born and great companies, organizations and non-profits can spring up from an idea birthed on the back of a coffee-shop napkin.

Our surroundings fade and we exist in unison, two people who once shared cups of coffee, unprecedentedly ourselves in a changing world.

Our mornings were never "rise and shine." They were "rise and fight." They were loud and ravaging. They were heavy and unnerving, like the after-math of a war, with unresolved territorial disputes. They were never serene, but they were beautiful. More beautiful than the smile you wear when you step out of the shower, more tempting than the sight of you brewing coffee from across the kitchen bar, more promising than a glorious victory, bigger than all our tumultuous past. Bigger than you. Bigger than I.

Outline of your frame My paper witness your silhouette Sipping in coffee My muse, my Juliet. Afternoon spent, In hungry desires Ending with a kiss On your coffee lips.

People like to cry over spilled milk, but I cry every time I spill my coffee.

Pahit kopi maniskan hidupku

People often joke about how they’re unable to make conversation until they’ve had their morning cup of coffee. What if we treated our daily quiet time with the same importance? What if we decided not to speak to anyone until we spend time with our Creator and allow Him to fill us with His Spirit first thing in the morning?

Pause while reading a book only in case of two things: 1. To kiss 2. To sip coffee Too bad both are a luxury.

People assume because I'm a coffee expert I drink lots of coffee. I can't. It takes me half an hour to brew my perfect cup. Do the math. I simply don't have time to drink more.

Percolate Peace

Please don't talk to me like I'm crazy. I've been accused of personality disorders enough this week, thanks. You know I've slept with girls before and didn't get attached.

Please pour me some coffee and sit beside me. I want to have a perfect start to this day.

Prison for me is not taking away my freedom, but taking away my coffee.

Pretty quickly, I stopped seeing the company as an engine of community. Instead, I saw it as a mythmaker offering only an illusion of belonging and meeting its customers' desire for connections in form, maybe, but surely not in substance. Once I came to this conclusion, I started to dig deeper into the company's other promises--great working conditions, musical discovery, fair treatment of farmer, and concern for the environment. Every time I went excavating, the stories turned out to be more complex, more heavily edited, and more ambiguous than I had first thought. Each time, it became clear that Starbucks fulfilled its many promises only in the thinnest, most transitory of ways and that people's desires went largely unfulfilled.

Presently the small of coffee began to fill the room. This was morning’s hallowed moment. In such a fragrance the perversity of the world is forgotten, and the soul is inspired with faith in the future…

Prayer is like coffee for my soul in the morning

Roberto stumbled out of his seat and put his boots on. He thought he would get to enjoy a normal day and some morning coffee, but he was wrong. So much for that idea, he thought.

Quentin didn't bother with the preliminaries. He grabbed a paper cup and trotted over to me, holding it at arm's length. "Here," he said. "Coffee.""And thus am I reminded why I allow you to live.

So instead I stare at the steaming liquid dripping into a coffeepot and start thinking of steaming volcanoes. And dinosaurs standing around drinking coffee, staring up at the giant meteor soaring through the air, commenting on how pretty it is.

Sheriff Hayes looks like he's probably the subject of many explicit fantasies concocted by at least half the population of the county which he serves. Myself included. His dark brown hair and eyes, which remind me of dark roast coffee, complement his tanned skin and make me suddenly crave a shot of espresso.

She was made mostly of coffee and empty spaces.

Sepahit-pahit kopi, tak sepahit berita di koran pagi.

Se preguntó si desde siempre habría preparado café cada mañana no por la bebida en sí, sino para tener algo que hacer.

She is the gin. Cold, intoxicating. Gives you a rush, makes you warm inside, makes you lose your head. Take too much, it makes you sick and shuts you down. He is the coffee, hot, steaming, filtered. You have to add stuff to it to make it taste good. Grinds your stomach, makes you jittery, wired, and tense. Bad trip, keeps you up, burns you out. Coffee and gin don’t mix, never do, everybody keeps trying and trying to make it taste good.

She put her cup down and sighed again with pleasure. "I can't think how the Nonconformists have failed to discover coffee." "Discover it?" "Yes. As a snare. It does far more for one than drink. And yet no one preaches about it, or signs pledges about it. Five mouthfuls and the world looks rosy.

She tasted of coffee and day old poetry.

She was an ocean, confined in a coffee mug. And she had the galaxies, confined in her pretty eyes.

Somehow, the Good Lord don't want to see no man start a cold morning with just black coffee.

Some of the world's most effective thoughts happen over a brew of morning's coffee

Strong Woman Sometimes I think, that I know her, From a distant past, where images are blur, Her smile, coffee and morning walk, Her questions, songs and random talk, She is from a distant land, Where the sun shines bright, Her attitude, love and courage, makes everything right, - To my friend Grozdana

some poems froth and foam and rise... out of my morning cup of mist-sweetened coffee.

Sometimes all I need is a cup of coffee to suppress my sleep and let my dreams come out as words.

Sometimes success is simply being able to drink an entire cup of coffee while it's still hot.

Stencil had called from a Hungarian coffee shop on York Avenue known as Hungarian Coffee Shop