Athukorala Bakery Quotes

I think I want a house of my own," I start, the words a discovery as they leave my mouth. "Something small, so I don't have much housework, but enough room for a proper library. I want a lot of books. And I wouldn't mind a good old dog to walk with me. And a bakery I go to every morning where they know my name. ~ Mackenzi Lee

Polly had a gift for baking pies, and she poured her heart and soul into every one she made. ~ Sarah Weeks

When you celebrate, there is sure to be cake."
Florence Ditlow, in "The Bakery Girls. ~ Florence Ditlow

Cities have always offered anonymity, variety, and conjunction, qualities best basked in by walking: one does not have to go into the bakery or the fortune-teller's, only to know that one might. A city always contains more than any inhabitant can know, and a great city always makes the unknown and the possible spurs to the imagination. ~ Rebecca Solnit

Excuse me," someone said, interrupting a lively discussion about whom they'd each buy a drink for in the cantina.

The whole line looked up. There were two women standing on the sidewalk with bakery boxes. One of them cleared her throat. "We heard that people were camping out for Star Wars . . ."

"That's us!" Troy said, only slightly less enthusiastically than he'd said it yesterday.

"Where's everybody else?" she asked. "Are they around the back? Do you do this in shifts?"

"It's just us," Elena said.

"We're the Cupcake Gals," the other woman said. "We thought we'd bring Star Wars cupcakes? For the line?"

"Great!" Troy said.

The Cupcake Gals held on tight to their boxes.

"It's just . . ." the first woman said, "we were going to take a photo of the whole line, and post it on Instagram . . ."

"I can help you there!" Elena said. Those cupcakes were not going to just walk away. Not on Elena's watch.

Elena took a selfie of their line, the Cupcake Gals and a theater employee all holding Star Wars cupcakes - it looked like a snapshot from a crowd - and promised to post it across all her channels. The lighting was perfect. Magic hour, no filter necessary. #CupcakeGals #TheForceACAKEns #SalaciousCrumbs

The Gals were completely satisfied and left both boxes of cupcakes.

"This is the first time I've been happy that there were only three of us," Elena said, h ~ Rainbow Rowell

It's foolish to fight the bond between you. You'd be better off going with it and letting the panties drop where they may. ~ Stacey O'Neale

If baking at Zomick's bakery is any labor at all, it's a labor of love. A love that gets passed from one Zomick's generation to the next one. ~ Zomick's Bakery

Mondays are for baklava, which she learned to make by watching her parents. Her mother said that a baklava-maker should have sensitive, supple hands, so she was in charge of opening and unpeeling the paper-thin layers of dough and placing them in a stack in the tray. Her father was in charge of pastry-brushing each layer of dough with a coat of drawn butter. It was systematic yet graceful: her mother carefully unpeeling each layer and placing them in the tray where Sirine's father painted them. It was important to move quickly so that the unbuttered layers didn't dry out and start to fall apart. This was one of the ways that Sirine learned how her parents loved each other- their concerted movements like a dance; they swam together through the round arcs of her mother's arms and her father's tender strokes. Sirine was proud when they let her paint a layer, prouder when she was able to pick up one of the translucent sheets and transport it to the tray- light as raw silk, fragile as a veil.
On Tuesday morning, however, Sirine has overslept. She's late to work and won't have enough time to finish preparing the baklava before starting breakfast. She could skip a day of the desserts and serve the customers ice cream and figs or coconut cookies and butter cake from the Iranian Shusha Bakery two doors down. But the baklava is important- it cheers the students up. They close their eyes when they bite into its crackling layers, all lightness and scent of orange blossoms.
And ~ Diana Abu-Jaber

What exactly do you think is going to happen to me in Redwood Ridge? A Halloween display falling on me? Blown over by the force of someone waving hello? No, no, I got it. I'll get diabetes after I'm forced to eat a cookie from the free sample display by the bakery. I hear sugar calling to me now. Dangerous stuff. ~ Kelly Moran

Unfortunately, the ten-cent-store Jesus being preached now by many men is not the Jesus that will come to judge the world. This plastic, painted Christ who has no spine and no justice, but is a soft and pliant friend to everybody, if He is the only Christ, then we might as well close our books, bar our doors and make a bakery or garage out of our church buildings. The popular Christ being preached now is not the Christ of God nor the Christ of the Bible nor the Christ we must deal with finally. For the Christ that we deal with has eyes as a flame of fire. And His feet are like burnished brass; and out of His mouth cometh a sharp two-edged sword (see Rev. 1:14-16). He will be the judge of humanity. You can leave your loved ones in His hands knowing that He Himself suffered, knowing that He knows all, no mistakes can be made, there can be no miscarriage of justice, because He knows all that can be known... Jesus Christ our Lord, the judge with the flaming eyes, is the one with whom we must deal. We cannot escape it. ~ A.W. Tozer

In their poor imitation of French fashion, they look like pastries in a bakery window at the end of the day, trying a bit too hard to be beautiful as they wilt. ~ Mackenzi Lee

One warm night four children stood in front of a bakery. No one knew them. No one knew where they had come from. ~ Gertrude Chandler Warner

Pastries are a baker's remedy for all ills. ~ Anthony T. Hincks

For seven years after college, I was a waitress at the Buttercup Bakery in Berkeley, and from there I got a job at Merrill Lynch as an account executive, from where I went to vice president of investments for Prudential-Bache Securities. I started my own firm in 1987. ~ Suze Orman

American business at this point is really about developing an idea, making it profitable, selling it while it's profitable and then getting out or diversifying. It's just about sucking everything up. My idea was: Enjoy baking, sell your bread, people like it, sell more. Keep the bakery going because you're making good food and people are happy. ~ Ian MacKaye

When I got to Zomick's Kosher Bakery I realized I didn't know very much about food at all. I'd never had a real cake. I'd had those cakes from cake mixes or the ones that have a lot of baking powder in them. A really good Zomick's challah doesn't have anything like that in it - it's all egg power. ~ Zomick's Bakery

Mom put dense cheddar bread into a bag for a man who said this was his wife's favorite - he'd driven all the way from New Jersey to buy it because today was their anniversary. Several women in the store jabbed their husbands on hearing this. I hung my head - Peter Terris wouldn't cross the street to buy me a Twinkie. ~ Joan Bauer

See beauty in those unexpected places. (she asked herself how people could let Bach be background noise.) See the opportunity in what looks like inconvenience. (she steered clear of the traffic jam and went to the bakery she's been meaning to stop at.) She embraces the undeclared possibility in what seems like just another ordinary day. (her friend is scheduled for cancer surgery and suddenly everything around her seems so very precious.) ~ Mary Anne Radmacher

We would wake and have smoothies every morning with fresh whole-grain bread from the small bakery in town, then run and climb and take walks together, and catch up on e-mail in the evening before we went to bed and talk about food and music and life and death and meaning and love. We fell asleep to the rushing of the stream and the cool spring breeze wafting through the window. ~ Scott Jurek

Every skilled baker was first an amateur! ~ Chris Geiger

Speaking of cupcakes, Will wants two dozen off your special menu to take on the road after the wedding."
"The, erm, peach kind?"
"The peach kind," Lindsey said.
"I like the peach kind," Josh said.
Mikey had named them Sex on a Peach. And they were Kimmie's second biggest seller, after the Hairy Dicks, which were coconut cake balls strategically placed with Dahlia's chocolate-covered, ice cream-filled bananas.
And Josh's frown had disappeared, and now he was grinning as if he knew it.
All of it. ~ Jamie Farrell

the truth, then I suppose you're right. Did you say something about the bakery order? I glanced in ~ Rachel Hauck

A stew of potatoes, kidney beans, and chopped greens and onions simmered atop the small cast-iron range. The appetizing scent filled the cottage and drifted out the open windows. Remembering the many times she had made the dish for her father, Victoria smiled wistfully. Her father had never been a great lover of food, regarding it solely as a necessity for the body rather than something to be enjoyed. On the rare occasions when Victoria had made plum pudding, or brought currant buns from the bakery, he had nibbled at the treats and quickly lost interest. The only times she had ever seen him eat heartily, and with obvious enjoyment, was when she had made vegetable stew. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Mom has the Touch. She knows what flowers go with what occasions, what hors d'oeuvres work with what people. She believes passionately in the power of food to heal, restore, and stimulate relationships, and she has built a following of loyal customers who really hope she's right. If she's wrong, says Sonia, no one wants to know. ~ Joan Bauer

Funny chap, Jesus. First, it's a little strange to assert that a piece of bread is your body. If you or I tried that we wouldn't be believed. We certainly wouldn't be allowed to run a bakery. Yet, given that Jesus was the son of God (this point has occasionally been disputed by people who will burn for ever in God's loving torment), we'll just have to take him at his word. ~ Mark Forsyth

Here you go, fellas. Piping hot ... right out of the oven!'
'Is
Is that what I think it is?'
'It's your favourite! Custard pie with cheese and bacon!'
'QUICHE!'
'No, comrade!! Be strong! Monsters don't eat flakey bakery products! Get a hold of yourself!'
'But comrade, I'm STARVING! Our army has no food! We haven't eaten since the ghost circles appeared!'
'Oh well! We certainly have a lot of food Here, don't we, Teach? A Lot of Food ... '
'Oh yes, A lot of food!'
'OK! I GIVE UP! YES! YES!! GIVE US THE QUICHE!! WE'RE STARVING
~ Jeff Smith

My dad's an architect and my mom owned a French bakery for twelve years. ~ Alison Lohman

Maybe it was teleportation. The Spirit took you there."
"That might explain my visit to the soccer game, but it doesn't elucidate why I was in two different editions of the bakery."
"Elucidate?"
"Clarify, expound, explicate ... "
"You should have stopped at expound."
"Brandon! I need assistance here. ~ James L. Rubart

Everyone in my story has it's own character, GreenHollyWood cheeky, hypocritical and near to mad guy. A guy who really can't understand you and have very wrong conclusion so far I can say they are full of doubt.
John Barker, wow that's one of my favourite characters, he is the guy who always lies and always somebody is behind him, he works at the bakery, he tries to devastate a lot of stuff.
James Downder, the drunkard who knows probably he takes drugs or not, so far he is full of depression and so far the depression kills people.... ~ Deyth Banger

I did work in a bakery for one day. But the boss went off and when he came back I was lying on the floor eating cakes. ~ Noel Fielding

I just realized I know nothing about you. Do you have a family? Where are you from?" The idea that I just invited a relative stranger, who owns nothing, to live in my apartment gave me a stomachache, but the weird thing was that I felt like I had known him forever.

"I'm from Detroit; my entire family still lives there. My mom works in a bakery at a grocery store and my dad is a retired electrician. I have twelve brothers and sisters."

"Really? I'm an only child. I can't imagine having a huge family like that - it must have been awesome!"

Relaxing his stance, he leaned his tattooed forearm onto the dresser and crossed his feet. Jackson came over and sat next to him. Will unconsciously began petting Jackson's head. It made my heart warm. "Actually, I don't have twelve brothers and sisters. I have one brother and eleven sisters." He paused. "I'm dead serious. My brother Ray is the oldest and I'm the youngest with eleven girls in between. I swear my parents just wanted to give Ray a brother, so they kept having more babies. By the time I was born, Ray was sixteen and didn't give a shit. On top of it, they all have R names except me. It's a f**king joke."

"You're kidding? Name 'em," I demanded.

In a super-fast voice Will recited, "Raymond, Reina, Rachelle, Rae, Riley, Rianna, Reese, Regan, Remy, Regina, Ranielle, Rebecca, and then me, Will."

"Surely they could have figured out another R name?"

"Well my br ~ Renee Carlino

One minute it was Ohio winter, with doors closed, windows locked, the panes blind with frost, icicles fringing every roof, children skiing on slopes, housewives lumbering like great black bears in their furs along the icy streets.
And then a long wave of warmth crossed the small town. A flooding sea of hot air; it seemed as if someone had left a bakery door open. The heat pulsed among the cottages and bushes and children. The icicles dropped, shattering, to melt. The doors flew open. The windows flew up. The children worked off their wool clothes. The housewives shed their bear disguises. The snow dissolved and showed last summer's ancient green lawns.
Rocket summer. The words passed among the people in the open, airing houses. Rocket summer. The warm desert air changing the frost patterns on the windows, erasing the art work. The skis and sleds suddenly useless. The snow, falling from the cold sky upon the town, turned to a hot rain before it touched the ground.
Rocket summer. People leaned from their dripping porches and watched the reddening sky.
The rocket lay on the launching field, blowing out pink clouds of fire and oven heat. The rocket stood in the cold winter morning, making summer with every breath of its mighty exhausts. The rocket made climates, and summer lay for a brief moment upon the land.... ~ Ray Bradbury