Cups Quotes - Page 7

• Unhappy man! Do you share my maddness? Have you drunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me; let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!

  Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

  Men, Drunk, Unhappy

  Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (2015). “Annotated Frankenstein: Or, The Modern Prometheus with English Grammar Exercises: by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (Author), Robert Powell (Editor)”, p.17, Powell Publications, LLC

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• And I can't die easy thinking maybe the menfolks white or black is making a spit cup out of you. Have some sympathy for me. Put me down easy, Janie, I'm a cracked plate.

  Zora Neale Hurston

  Thinking, White, Black

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• One gal drank a can of floor wax and topped it off with a cup of Clorox, trying to separate herself from the same world he was in.

  Fannie Flagg

  Trying, World, Gals

  Fannie Flagg (2013). “Fried Green Tomatoes, Can't Wait to Get to Heaven, and I Still Dream About You: Three Bestselling Novels”, p.257, Random House

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• American coffee can be a pale solution served at a temperature of 100 degrees centigrade in plastic thermos cups, usually obligatory in railroad stations for purposes of genocide, whereas coffee made with an American percolator, such as you find in private houses or in humble luncheonettes, served with eggs and bacon, is delicious, fragrant, goes down like pure spring water, and afterwards causes severe palpitations, because one cup contains more caffeine than four espressos.

  Umberto Eco

  Spring, Coffee, Humble

  Umberto Eco (1995). “How to Travel with a Salmon & Other Essays”, p.51, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• I followed him through the halls of the enormous church until we got to the staff's kitchen. He went to the fridge, opened it, and came out with a bottle of bourbon. He poured some into a coffee cup, drank it down, and poured some more. He offered me the bottle. No, thanks. Aren't you supposed to drink vodka? Aren't you supposed to wear a pointy hat and ride on a flying broomstick? Touche, I said.

  Jim Butcher

  Coffee, Flying, Kitchen

  Jim Butcher (2009). “Small Favor: A Novel of the Dresden Files”, p.387, Penguin

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• The Violins waltzed. The Cellos and Basses provided accompaniment. The Violas mourned their fate, while the Concertmaster showed off. The Flutes did bird imitations…repeatedly, and the reed instruments had the good taste to admire my jacket. The Trumpets held a parade in honor of our great nation, while the French Horns waxed nostalgic about something or other. The Trombones had too much to drink. The Percussion beat the band, and the Tuba stayed home playing cards with his landlady, the Harp, taking sips of warm milk a blue little cup. “But the Composer is still dead.

  Daniel Handler

  Home, Fate, Blue

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• When the friendly jailer gave Socrates the poison cup to drink, the jailer said: "Try to bear lightly what needs must be." Socrates did. He faced death with a calmness and resignation that touched the hem of divinity.

  Dale Carnegie

  Trying, Friendly, Poison

  Dale Carnegie (2016). “How to stop worrying & start living”, p.82, Diamond Pocket Books Pvt Ltd

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• Shamus ordered half a cup of house brew. Then he proceeded to fill the cup up the rest of the way with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. “Sure you got enough milk in your sugar?” I asked as we strolled out of the shop and headed south. He flipped me off. “You drink your coffee your way, and I’ll drink my coffee the right way.

  Devon Monk

  Coffee, House, Half

  Devon Monk (2009). “Magic in the Shadows: An Allie Beckstrom Novel”, p.219, Penguin

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• I’d give him a cup of coffee and a big helping of a knuckle sandwich. Generosity was a virtue and I was in the mood to be extremely virtuous.

  Ilona Andrews

  Coffee, Generosity, Giving

  Ilona Andrews (2010). “Magic Bleeds”, p.146, Penguin

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• She would allow him to comfort her. And perhaps, someday, she would listen patiently if a dark, dreary night found him well in his cups and he drunkenly confessed to still feeling scores of wounds that weren’t his own, but those of men under his command.

  Tessa Dare

  Dark, Night, Men

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• Ever had a woman say no to you, Dmitri?” “Once.” He turned the corner with a smile that made her want to cup his face, trace those beautiful lips with her own. “I married her.

  Nalini Singh

  Beautiful, Want, Faces

  Nalini Singh (2012). “Nalini Singh: Guild Hunters Novels 1-4”, p.1064, Penguin

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• Kevin was a shell game in which all three cups were empty.

  Lionel Shriver

  Games, Three, Shells

  Lionel Shriver (2011). “We Need to Talk about Kevin”, p.234, Counterpoint Press

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• What is the destiny of man, but to fill up the measure of his sufferings, and to drink his allotted cup of bitterness?

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Destiny, Men, Suffering

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (2015). “The Sorrows of Young Werther: Top Classic of German”, p.45, 谷月社

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• It is like the thirsty traveller who at first sincerely sought the water of knowledge, but who later, having found it plain perhaps, proceeded to temper his cup with the salt of doubt so that his thirst now becomes insatiable though he drinks incessantly, and that in thus drinking the water that cannot slake his thirst, he has forgotten the original and true purpose for which the water was sought.

  Syed Muhammad Naquib al-Attas

  Drinking, Water, Doubt

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• So he decided to stay out of it and instead turned back to Lady Bridgerton, who was, as it happened, the closest person to him, anyway. “And how are you this afternoon?” he asked. Lady Bridgerton gave him a very small smile as she handed him his cup of tea. “Smart man,” she murmured. “It’s self-preservation, really,” he said noncommittally. “Don’t say that. They wouldn’t hurt you.” “No, but I’m sure to be injured in the cross fire.

  Julia Quinn

  Hurt, Smart, Men

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• As one, the shapechangers turned and looked at me. I wondered what they'd do if I asked to borrow a cup of sugar.

  Ilona Andrews

  Sugar, Ifs

  Ilona Andrews (2012). “Magic Bites: A Special Edition of the First Kate Daniels Novel”, p.55, Penguin

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• I don’t have the time to devote to circles or covens. I have to fit things in when and where I can, in stolen moments and cups of coffee. Stirring clockwise to conjure. Widdershins to banish. There’s never enough time, and rarely enough caffeine, but I make do with what I have. Besides, cauldrons and pointy hats are overrated. Sometimes I see other customers practicing. Pouring their cream and sugar with studied intent. Stirring with purpose. I add an extra spoonful of sugar to my own coffee for them, to make all of our enchantments sweeter.

  Erin Morgenstern

  Coffee, Circles, Enough Time

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• Sister Mary was a nurse and nurses, whatever their creed, are primarily nurses, which had a lot to do with wearing your watch upside down, keeping calm in emergencies, and dying for a cup of tea.

  Terry Pratchett

  Nurse, Tea, Dying

  Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett (2011). “Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch”, p.30, Harper Collins

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• Don't do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don't do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass. Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl.

  Shirley Jackson

  Girl, Wise, Stars

  Shirley Jackson (2006). “The Haunting of Hill House”, p.30, Penguin

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• Please, Lord Maccon, use one of the cups. My delicate sensibilities.” The earl actually snorted. “My dear Miss Tarabotti, if you possessed any such things, you certainly have never shown them to me.

  Gail Carriger

  Missing, Use, Lord

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• He appeared before me and departed. We were not able to speak to or touch each other. But in that short interval, he transformed many things inside me. He literally stirred my mind and body the way a spoon stirs a cup of cocoa, down to the depths of my internal organs and my womb.

  Haruki Murakami

  Departed, Mind, Depth

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• Wasn't it better if they kept this desire to see each other hidden within them, and never actually got together? That way, there would always be hope in their hearts. That hope would be a small, yet vital flame that warmed them to their core-- a tiny flame to cup one's hands around and protect from the wind, a flame that the violent winds of reality might easily extinguish.

  Haruki Murakami

  Heart, Reality, Flames

  FaceBook post by Haruki Murakami from Sep 22, 2015

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• Eve hugged her, hard. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “What happened to the old frosting?” Shane, sitting at the table, raised his hand. “Took one for the team.” “Jesus, you ate it? All of it?” “Nah.” He held up the bowl that was sitting in front of him. There was still about half a cup left. “Couldn’t finish it all.” Eve blinked and looked at Claire, who shrugged and said, “I always thought he was sweet.

  Rachel Caine

  Beautiful, Sweet, Jesus

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• Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.

  Becca Fitzpatrick

  Boys, Drunk, Pimp

  Becca Fitzpatrick (2013). “The Complete Hush, Hush Saga: includes Hush, Hush; Crescendo; Silence and Finale”, p.414, Simon and Schuster

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• The mountains were his masters. They rimmed in life. They were the cup of reality, beyond growth, beyond struggle and death. They were his absolute unity in the midst of eternal change.

  Thomas Wolfe

  Struggle, Reality, Unity

  Thomas Wolfe (2006). “Look Homeward, Angel”, p.156, Simon and Schuster

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