Cups Quotes - Page 8

• Okay, this is the wisdom. First, time spent on reconnaissanse is never wasted. Second, almost anything can be improved with the addition of bacon. And finally, there is no problem on Earth that can't be ameliorated by a hot bath and a cup of tea.

  Jasper Fforde

  Time, Tea, Firsts

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• When he finished, he drank from the cup. Everyone else did too, so I followed suit. And nearly choked to death. It was like fire in liquid form. It took every ounce of strength I had to swallow it and not spray it on those around me. "Wh...what is this?" I asked, coughing. Viktoria grinned. "Vodka." I peered at the glass. "No, it isn't. I've had vodka before." "Not Russian vodka." Apparently not.

  Richelle Mead

  Fire, Glasses, Suits

  Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.658, Penguin

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• Spring TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Spring, Flower, Men

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2009). “Second April: Easyread Super Large 18pt Edition”, p.1, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• Why did you leave? (Aiden) I took care of the person harassing him. Threat gone. Job eliminated. Anything else you want to know? Dental records, fingerprints? Retinal scan? (Leta) Urine sample would work. (Aiden) What cup you want me to use? (Leta) Does anything faze you? (Aiden) I fight people for a living. Do you honestly think peeing in a cup is going to frighten me? (Leta)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Jobs, Fighting, Thinking

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• 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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• Madame Lefoux accepted a cup of tea and sat on another little settee, next to the relocated calico cat. The cat clearly believed Madame Lefoux was there to provide chin scratches. Madame Lefoux provided.

  Gail Carriger

  Cat, Tea, Scratches

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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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• There was a dull pang of regret because it was not the kiss of love which had inflamed her, because it was not love which had held this cup of life to her lips.

  Kate Chopin

  Regret, Kissing, Dull

  Kate Chopin (1899). “The Awakening”, p.219

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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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• STAY HOME FROM SCHOOL FAUX VOMIT: 1 cup of cooked oatmeal 1.2 cup of sour cream (or buttermilk ranch dressing or anything that smells like rancid, sour milk) 2 chopped cheese sticks (for chunkiness) 1 uncooked egg (for authentic slimy texture) 1 can of split pea soup (for putrid green color) 1/4 cup of raisins (to increase gross-osity) Mix ingredients and simmer over low heat for 2 minutes Let mixture cool to warm vomit temperature Use liberally as needed Makes 4 to 5 cups

  Rachel Renée Russell

  Home, School, Eggs

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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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• She was forever tilted sideways by the notion that pain was inevitable, chance was cruel, and all human ingenuity should go towards the making of a good cup of tea.

  Colum McCann

  Pain, Forever, Tea

  "Zoli". Book by Colum McCann, 2007.

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• …he is unlike the other customers. They sense it too, and look at him with hard eyes, eyes like little metal studs pinned into the white faces of young men [...] In the hush his entrance creates, the excessive courtesy the weary woman behind the counter shows him amplifies his strangeness. He orders coffee quietly and studies the rim of the cup to steady the sliding in his stomach. He had thought, he had read, that from shore to shore all America was the same. He wonders, Is it just these people I’m outside or is it all America?

  John Updike

  Coffee, Eye, Men

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• The world could bring you poison in a jewelled cup, or surprising gifts. Sometimes you didn't know which of them it was.

  Guy Gavriel Kay

  Poison, World, Sometimes

  Guy Gavriel Kay (2010). “Under Heaven”, p.18, Penguin

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• Fall leaves are brilliant with gold and red. You can cup them in your hand and wonder at them, be amazed at their uniqueness and glory. But eventually they are gone, brown, crumbling, scattered on the wind. But the tree remains. The tree is what is important. The tree lives on. That was a difficult knowledge to bear, and an even more difficult life to live. Of course, being the leaf wasn't exactly desirable either.

  Rob Thurman

  Fall, Hands, Wind

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• Love isn't a burst o' trumpets and a flock o' doves descendin' out o' the heavens to roost on yer heads. Tis sharin' a cup o' tea by the hearth on a cold winter's night. 'Tis the look in yer husband's eyes when ye lay yer first child in his arms. Tis the ache in yer heart when ye watch the light in his eyes dim fer the last time, and know a part o' ye has gone out o' this world with him.

  Teresa Medeiros

  Children, Husband, Heart

  Teresa Medeiros (2011). “Charming the Prince”, p.311, Bantam

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• It’s the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It’s the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me that I normally try to hide from any man for as long as possible… and he loves me anyway.

  Sophie Kinsella

  Men, Long, Waiting

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• We two make banquets of the plainest fare In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure... For us life always moves with lilting measure We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure

  Ella Wheeler Wilcox

  Moving, Our World, Two

  Ella Wheeler Wilcox (2012). “Leafs On An Idle Breeze - My Inspirational Poems (Annotated Edition)”, p.711, Jazzybee Verlag

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• I am interested in madness. I believe it is the biggest thing in the human race, and the most constant. How do you take away from a man his madness without also taking away his identity? Are we sure it is desirable for a man's spirit not to be at war with itself, or that it is better to be serene and ready to go to dinner than to be excited and unwilling to stop for a cup of coffee, even?

  William Saroyan

  War, Coffee, Believe

  "Short Drive, Sweet Chariot". Book by William Saroyan, 1966.

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• Everybody's heart is like a cup. They stumble from place to place and person to person, trying to get them filled. They get cracked, those cups, and even broken. Some people throw them away, thinking that it will stop the pain. Poor fools. Nobody can fill a cup but Almighty God Himself. Nobody.

  Linda Lael Miller

  Pain, Heart, Thinking

  Linda Lael Miller (2017). “McKettrick Men Complete Collection: McKettrick's Luck\McKettrick's Pride\McKettrick's Heart”, p.403, HQN Books

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• Frostpine made a face. Lifting the cup, he dumped its contents down his throat. “Auugghh!” he yelled, his voice stronger than it had been since his return from the harbor. "Are you trying to kill me, woman?" "If I mean to kill someone, I do it," Rosethorn told him. "I don't try.

  Tamora Pierce

  Mean, Voice, Stronger

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• Sir, I did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?

  Samuel Johnson

  Wine, Glasses, Numbers

  James Boswell, Samuel Johnson (1799). “Life of Johnson: Including Boswell's Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides and Johnson's Diary of a Journey Into North Wales”, p.363

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• The last laugh, the last cup of coffee, the last sunset, the last time you jump through a sprinkler, or eat an ice-cream cone, or stick your tongue out to catch a snowflake. You just don't know.

  Lauren Oliver

  Coffee, Sunset, Ice Cream

  Lauren Oliver (2010). “Before I Fall”, p.262, Hachette UK

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