Best 491 quotes in «tea quotes» category

The art of tea, whichever way you drink it, or whichever country you are from, has one underlining thread for all of us. It is the cultivation of yourself as you follow the ceremony of preparing your tea, the way in which you make your tea, how and where you drink it, and with whom. Making a cup of tea creates a space for just being.

The Baroness found it amusing to go to tea; she dressed as if for dinner. The tea-table offered an anomalous and picturesque repast; and on leaving it they all sat and talked in the large piazza, or wandered about the garden in the starlight.

The best thing about being a writer is that 'work' is always something you love, plus usually accompanied by tea, coffee and cakes of some sort.

The British claim that this tea has a negligible amount of caffeine. Don't you believe it. A couple of months after moving to London, convinced I was having panic attacks, I realized it was simply overcaffeination at the hands of generous friends and colleagues. Every cup of tea I was offered, I took–it seemed rude not to–to the tune of five of seven per day. The cumulative effects were heart-pounding, hand-sweating jitters that abated as soon as I learned my limits.

The cold seemed less relentless now. The small circle of white light from my bedside lamp and its hint of the dawn to come seemed to drive the worst of the chill away and the hot tea did the rest, as I lay and read further into the life of the young woman in the bravado coat.

The dried yellow petals of St. John's wort, which Old Marie called 'chase-devil' for the way it could drive the megrims away. Gaudy calendula, bright as the sun. Sweet-smelling lemon balm, guaranteed to lift the spirits with its aroma alone.

The effect of tea is cooling and as a beverage it is most suitable. It is especially fitting for persons of self-restraint and inner worth.

The fanciest grade of green tea in Japan goes by the name of gyokuro, meaning "jade dew." It consists of the newest leaves of a tea plantation's oldest tea bushes that bud in May and have been carefully protected from the sun under a double canopy of black nylon mesh. The leaves are then either steeped in boiled water or ground into a powder to make matcha (literally, "grind tea"), the thick tea served at a tea ceremony. (The powder used to make the thin tea served at a tea ceremony comes from grinding the older leaves of young tea plants, resulting in a more bitter-tasting tea.) The middle grade of green tea is called sencha, or "brew tea," and is made from the unprotected young tea leaves that unfurl in May or June. The leaves are usually steeped in hot water to yield a fragrant grassy brew to enjoy on special occasions or in fancy restaurants. For everyday tea, the Japanese buy bancha. Often containing tiny tea twigs, it consists of the large, coarse, unprotected leaves that remain on the tea bush until August. When these leaves are roasted, they become a popular tea called hojicha. When hojicha combines with popped roasted brown rice, a tea called genmaicha results.

The key to healthy weight loss isn't so much about WHAT you EAT, but WHAT you DRINK.

The hour [...] can be anywhere between three and six o'clock in the afternoon. The general rule is that the earlier tea is served, the lighter the refreshments. At three, tea is usually a snack -- dainty finger sandwiches, petits fours, fresh strawberrries; at six, it can be a meal -- or "high" tea -- with sausage rolls, salads, and trifle.

The leaves that remain are only a very small part of the tea. The tea that goes into me is a much bigger part of the tea. It is the richest part. We are the same; our essence has gone into our children, our friends, and the entire universe. We have to find ourselves in those directions and not in the spent tea leaves.

There should be medals struck for men who produce tea at exactly the moment it's needed.

The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.

The only good thing about that decision, Gatt, is that I'll get tea before you.

The passion of steeped leaves and stewed broth is a philter that triumphs in our veins. It is our heritage, it is our religion, it is the glory of our being. It is our honour to show the rest of the uncivilized world how a refined and educated society operates. Nothing can be done without tea. For a thing to be done right and to be done well, a hand must be furnished with a cup filled to the brim with the finest vintage of dried and simmered vegetation. There is no other way, I tell you. For a Marridon-born man not to like tea is immoral. It makes him low, shows him to be wholly vulgar and unable to appreciate and welter in all the rapture that such scandal-broth can supply. A sniveling guttersnipe might not like tea, but a knight, a member of the highest order, a banner of Marridonian heraldry, cannot dislike it. It is folly to think so, absolute humbuggery. You are one of the high boughs of Marridon’s ancient tree, sir knight. You are practically born with leaves to steep, to stew, to swelter, to sip. It is almost treasonous not to like tea. I am considered a recluse amongst Marridon’s high society, and even I understand why I must like tea. It is the drink of the thinking man, to be deliberated over and deliciated, to be relished and reveled in, that all its secrets of higher cogitation might be extricated and beloved. One must immerse himself in the distillation if he is to properly understand it. To drink tea ponderously is all the learned Marridonian should ever aspire to.

There are few nicer things than sitting up in bed, drinking strong tea, and reading.

There is no problem on earth that can't be ameliorated by a hot bath and a cup of tea.

There is nothing so capital as a cup of tea for settling the Disheveled Nerves of Fair Ladies.

There's a reason we English are ruled more by tea than by Buckingham Palace or His Majesty's Government: Apart from the soul, the brewing of tea is the only thing that sets us apart from the great apes - or so the Vicar had remarked to Father.

There's always time for tea.

There was not one straight floor from the foundation to the roof; the ceilings were so fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old woman might have told fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea;

There was no way she was staying trapped with tea at a time like this.

There were ceramic teapots in aubergine, mustard, and midnight blue (good for one, sweeter still when shared between two drinkers); and forty small, thin glasses with curved handles, set in gold- and silver-plated holders etched with arabesque swirls. Bahar gingerly lined the tea glasses up on the counter where the cappuccino machine had been stationed. She tucked the teapots into the counter's glass-paneled belly, where they sat prettily next to twenty glass containers of loose-leaf teas, ranging from bergamot and hibiscus to oolong.

The order never varies. Two slices of bread-and-butter each, and China tea. What a hide-bound couple we must seem, clinging to custom because we did so in England. Here, on this clean balcony, white and impersonal with centuries of sun, I think of half-past-four at Manderley, and the table drawn before the library fire. The door flung open, punctual to the minute, and the performance, never-varying, of the laying of the tea, the silver tray, the kettle, the snowy cloth.

There seemed to be so many things that I needed, but I held myself in check and purchased only essentials - with the exception of one extravagance. I had determined that I would drink my tea like a lady, even in a log house; so I purchased a teapot and two cups and saucers of fine china. I felt somehow Mama's mind would be much more at ease about me if she knew that I was having my tea in the proper fashion. After all, civilization could not be too far away from Pine Springs if I had such amenities!

There was currant toast squishy with butter, caramel-marshmallow squares, strawberry boats oozing custard, chocolate exclairs that exploded with cream when the cats bit into them with their little white teeth and-- a special treat for Pleasant-- a pie made from thick slices of Bramley apple, with just the right amount of tangy in the tangy-sweet.

There was a teapot, in which Mma Ramotswe -- the only lady private detective in Botwana -- brewed tea. And three mugs -- one for herself, one for her secretary, and one for the client. What else does a detective agency really need?

The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.

The smoke rolls along the low ceiling and pours up into the night - a reverse waterfall - like when the kettle boils beneath the plate cupboard.

Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine, Yet let's be merry; we'll have tea and toast; Custards for supper, and an endless host Of syllabubs and jellies and mincepies, And other such ladylike luxuries.

The usual for me." The usual was a strong infusion of different kinds of Oriental teas, which raised her spirits after her siesta.

The waitress brought a fresh pot of tea, and Marty refilled his father’s cup and poured a cup for Samantha. Henry in turn filled Marty’s. It was a tradition Henry cherished—never filling your own cup, always filling that of someone else, who would return the favor.

This is a smashing place, isn't it? But I must say it scares me a bit. Do you suppose one dares to ask for some tea?' 'I expect so, though heavens knows how. Perhaps you blow a peal on a slughorn, or beat on your shield with your sword -- or, I'll tell you what, if you look around you'll find a long embroidered tassel, and if you pull it you'll hear a bell clanging hollowly in some dark corridor a million miles away, and then some bent old servitor will come shuffling in--' 'There's a telephone by the bed,' said Timothy. 'Good heavens, so there is. How disappointing.' - Airs Above the Ground

This will not do,' he said to himself. 'If I go on like this I shall become a crazy fool. This must stop! I promised the doctor I would not take tea. Faith, he was pretty right! My nerves must have been getting in a queer state. Funny I did not notice it. I never felt better in my life. However it is all right now, and I shall not be such a fool again.' Then he mixed himself a good stiff glass of brandy and water and resolutely sat down to his work.

To tea, without which I would likely be dead.

Time is drowning, Hearts are burning, Heads are rolling, Nothing can save you now, Tick tock, tick tock; Creatures talking, Weak are rising, White Queen’s nearing, Nothing can save you now, Tick tock, tick tock; Cards are bleeding, Crowns are sweating, Tea is spilling, Nothing can save you now, Tick tock, tick tock; Red Queen, here’s your warning, Wonderland’s raging, Alice is coming, Highness, time is drowning, And nothing can save you now, Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…

Un jour il y a plus de quatre milles années de cela, l'empereur Chen Nung voyageait avec son escorte dans une contrée éloignée de son vaste pays. Comme la route était longue et harassante, il demanda à prendre un peu de repos à l'ombre d'arbres qui le protégerait du soleil. Le convoi s'arrêta et l'empereur s'assit en tailleur sous un arbuste inconnu. Il réclama aussitôt un bol d'eau bouillante car il avait grand soif et ne connaissait que ce breuvage pour se désaltérer. On s'empressa de lui apporter. C'est alors qu'une feuille tomba dans le bol de l'empereur. Chen Nung but sans s'en rendre compte et un parfum à la fois doux et amer lui emplit la gorge. Intrigué, il inspecta le fond de son bol et y trouva la feuille au parfum si envoûtant. Le thé venait de naître.

Two things consistently bring me pleasure: hot sweet tea and writing. Which is not to say that either are particularly good for me…I use entirely too much sugar and so far don’t find sucralose to be a good alternative. Also, writing is not a practice that engenders confidence. Quite the opposite. It’s about making yourself deliberately insecure so that you can write the next thing and have it be worth reading. And that’s not even taking into consideration the business end of things, which can make you bitter if you’re not careful… But I’ve spent my the bulk of my life to date figuring out the right mix of fat and sugar in my tea and also, how to get incrementally better (I hope…) at the writing, so I’m not giving it/them up!

We are having hot lesbian sex... and by sex we mean tea but it's still hot.

Während die erste Tasse Tee mir die Lippen und Kehle befeuchtet, die zweite meine Trauer vertreibt, die dritte mein Inneres durchforscht, fange ich bei der vierten Tasse an zu schwitzen, so dass alles Schlechte ausgeschieden wird. Bei der fünften Tasse bin ich gereinigt, die sechste Tasse bringt mich der Unsterblichkeit nahe, doch erst die siebente Tasse lässt mich den Hauch des Windes fühlen, der mich zu den Inseln der Unsterblichkeit trägt.

Vol picks up the cup of tea in both hands and takes a long sip. Mm, grass-clippings. Her favourite.

Want some tea?" she said. "What?" "I thought some tea might be nice. A nice cup of oolong. Want some?" "But you just took my clothes off." "Oh. All right, then, sex it is.

We are often given pills or fluids to help remedy illness, yet little has been taught to us about the power of smell to do the exact same thing. It is known that the scent of fresh rosemary increases memory, but this cure for memory loss is not divulged by doctors to help the elderly. I also know that the most effective use of the blue lotus flower is not from its dilution with wine or tea – but from its scent. To really maximize the positive effects of the blue lily (or the pink lotus), it must be sniffed within minutes of plucking. This is why it is frequently shown being sniffed by my ancient ancestors on the walls of temples and on papyrus. Even countries across the Orient share the same imagery. The sacred lotus not only creates a relaxing sensation of euphoria, and increases vibrations of the heart, but also triggers genetic memory - and good memory with an awakened heart ushers wisdom.

We both disliked rude rickshwalas, shepu bhaji in any form, group photographs at weddings, lizards, tea that has gone cold, the habit of taking newspaper to the toilet, kissing a boy who'd just smoked a cigarette et cetra. Another list. The things we loved: strong coffee, Matisse, Rumi, summer rain, bathing together, Tom Hanks, rice pancakes, Cafe Sunrise, black-and-white photographs, the first quiet moments after you wake up in the morning.

What shall we do at our tea party?" Daddy asked. "Do we sing and read poems like you do at Grammy's?" "We can just talk. I can tell you about what's been happening at school. You can tell me about your work or what you did when you were a little boy. You know. Things that matter.

What a nice surprise! Come on up! " "I hope you don't mind—it's urgent." "Of course not! I was just about to make some tea, do you want some?" "Doctor, have you... Looked out the window recently?" "Oh, the fire? Yes, I was wondering about that. I've got earl grey and oolong. Take your pick!" "There is no time for that, Doctor. You need to get out of here—it's not safe." "There's always time for a cup of tea!

What part of confidante has that poor teapot played ever since the kindly plant was introduced among us! Why myriads of women have cried over it, to be sure! [...] Nature meant very kindly by women when she made the tea plant; and with a little thought, what series of pictures and groups of the fancy may conjure up and assemble round the teapot and cup.

When I drink tea I am conscious of peace. The cool breath of heaven rises in my sleeves, and blows my cares away.

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender, of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.

When may did so, he found every cup and saucer, plate, vase, and bowl standing arranged across the floor like pieces in a scaled-up chess game. "The Whitstable family tree," Bryant explained, entering and setting down his tea tray. "It's the only way I could get it sorted out in my head. I had to see them properly laid out, who was descended from whom." He pointed to a milk jug. "Daisy Whitstable is bottom left-hand corner, by the fireguard. Next to her is the egg cup, brother Tarquin... Now, pass me Marion and Alfred Whitstable over there." "What's their significance?" "We need them to drink out of.