Dimare Bakery Quotes

Kings of a bakery? The very suggestion was laughable. How easy it was to assume that elsewhere was infinitely better than where you stood. Sometimes at night, she dreamed of the TEXAS, U.S.A. magazine advertisement, envisioning a land with row upon row of fat loaves laden with jeweled fruits; bread cubes sodden with thick lamb stew; sugar-dusted sweet breads, ginger-spiced cookies, and fat wedges of chocolate cake soaked in Kirschwasser. She'd awake with cold drool down her chin. Regardless of the family's lack of resources, one of Papa's famous Black Forest cakes had miraculously prevailed. Dressed in a layer of bittersweet chocolate shavings ~ Sarah McCoy

But he knew how to kiss a woman until she needed his kisses more than she needed to breathe. Until her bones melted. Until she gave him exactly what he wanted. ~ Jamie Farrell

I went to bed wearing my oldest, most faded flannel shirt, the bra that had looked all right in the catalog but was obviously an escapee from a downmarket nursing home when it arrived, white cotton panties that had had pansies on them about seven hundred washings ago and were now a kind of mottled gray, and the jeans I usually wore for housecleaning or raking Yolande's garden because they were too shabby for work even if I never came out of the bakery. Food inspector arrest-on-sight jeans. Oh, and fuzzy green plaid socks. It was a cool night for summer. Relatively. I lay down on top of the bedspread. And slept through till the alarm at three-forty-five. He hadn't come. T ~ Robin McKinley

Though I'd stayed up the previous night until Billy arrived home, he was irritatingly circumspect with details. I swear, getting information out of him sometimes was harder than getting blood out of a turnip.

I showered quickly, intent on making it to Donner's Bakery for whatever Jenn had cooking, and ask her directly how the date had gone, i.e. did I need to maim Billy? Or had he been a gentleman? Or, even if he'd been a gentleman, did I still need to maim him? ~ Penny Reid

A dismal omen: ... this morning a woman handed me a dollar bill that was translucent from age, as soft and warm as living tissue. ~ Kathleen Maher

He was asking too many questions and he was asking them too quickly. They were stacking up in my head like loaves in the factory where Uncle Terry works. The factory is a bakery and he operates the slicing machines. And sometimes a slicer is not working fast enough but the bread keeps coming and there is a blockage. I sometimes think of my mind as a machine, but not always as a bread-slicing machine. It makes it easier to explain to other people what is going on inside it. ~ Mark Haddon

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

In the third cabinet under the counter, she hit the good stuff. "Oh! You have a KitchenAid."
"If you're planning on caressing my mixer, you should know that might make my testicles explode," he said from behind her.
Her cheeks went hot enough to glow. "That would be awkward. ~ Jamie Farrell

When I started at Puma, you had a restaurant that was a Puma restaurant, an Adidas restaurant, a bakery. The town was literally divided. If you were working for the wrong company, you wouldn't be served any food; you couldn't buy anything. So it was kind of an odd experience. ~ Jochen Zeitz

Elizabeth ran her finger along the windowsill, gathering dust. The view was almost exactly the same as from her own bedroom, only a few degrees shifted. She could still see the Rosens' place, with its red door and folding shutters, and the Martinez house, with its porch swing and the dog bowl. She'd heard once that what made you a real New Yorker was when you could remember back three laters -- the place on the corner that had been a bakery and then a barbershop before it was a cell-phone store, or the restaurant that had been Italian, then Mexican, then Cuban. The city was a palimpsest, a Mod Podged pileup or old signage and other people's failures. Newcomers saw only what was in front of them, but people who had been there long enough were always looking at two or three other places simultaneously. The IRT, Canal Jeans, the Limelight. So much of the city she'd fallen in love with was gone, but then again, that's how it worked. It was your job to remember. At least the bridges were still there. Some things were too heavy to take down. ~ Emma Straub

I'd hoped the language might come on its own, the way it comes to babies, but people don't talk to foreigners the way they talk to babies. They don't hypnotize you with bright objects and repeat the same words over and over, handing out little treats when you finally say "potty" or "wawa." It got to the point where I'd see a baby in the bakery or grocery store and instinctively ball up my fists, jealous over how easy he had it. I wanted to lie in a French crib and start from scratch, learning the language from the ground floor up. I wanted to be a baby, but instead, I was an adult who talked like one, a spooky man-child demanding more than his fair share of attention.
Rather than admit defeat, I decided to change my goals. I told myself that I'd never really cared about learning the language. My main priority was to get the house in shape. The verbs would come in due time, but until then I needed a comfortable place to hide. ~ David Sedaris

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

Echoing streets melt into dark autumn rooms - melt to black plastic bags inflated by the wind and spinning on playground blacktop like free-floating punctuation ... the horizon is just a line and past it there's only black dark ... that rolls toward her as she walks in its direction ... smooth-worn wooden chairs at the bakery where ella sits tea on the table in front of her, it's getting dark but the girl behind the counter hasn't turned on a single light yet ... Ella animal staring into the street: Did I ever touch him? ~ Michael Cisco

Heaven's Bakery help them all. ~ Jamie Farrell

I wanted him to have all these things that Roderick could give him, but I
wanted him to have them with me. I wanted my cake, I wanted to eat it, I
wanted the bakery it was made in, and oh yeah, throw in the fucking baker
because I wanted him too. Hell, you better add in the baker's wife while
you're at it; I like breasts a lot. ~ Seth Kirkcauldy

The clock in the kitchen chimed and Anna looked up. The first batch of cookies would be ready any moment; then it would be time to put it in another tray. After that, there were four different types of bread, krumkaker (she wouldn't fill them with cream in this heat), and at least two spice cakes to make. Her mother hated the idea of her baking cakes that might not sell ("The ingredients cost money"), but Anna knew people would want them, and they made a tidy profit off cakes. It was a win-win. ~ Jen Calonita

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

Was that the girl who went to Manhattan with you?" Asked Marcus. "I think we owe her a cookie" "I think we owe her a whole damn bakery" said Xochi. "If I wasn't hip deep on the mud, I would kiss her on the mouth ~ Dan Wells

She has never been in the presence, before, of two people who are in love with each other. She feels like a stray child, ragged and cold, with her nose pressed to a lighted window. A toy-store window, a bakery window, with fancy cakes and decorated cookies. Poverty prevents her entrance. These things are for other people; nothing for her. ~ Margaret Atwood

I looked up to see the sun struggling behind a gray mass of snow clouds.
I could relate.
And then a beam of sunlight found a way through. A sign? Maybe.
But what was this? I gasped. The bakery esters had refracted into visible bands of flavor.
Red raspberry, orange, and the yellow of lemon and butter.
Pistachio, lime, and mint green.
The deepest indigo of a fresh blueberry
The violet that blooms when crushed blackberries blend into buttercream.
The Roy G. Biv that a baker loves.
And then the darkness: chocolate, spice, coffee, and burnt-sugar caramel. ~ Judith Fertig

I had a lot of things I wanted to do ... I want to be a teacher ... I also want to be an astronaut ... and also make my own cake shop ... I want to go to the sweets bakery and say "I want one of everything", ohhhh I wish I could live life five times over ... Then I'd be born in five different places, and I'd stuff myself with different food from around the world ... I'd live five different lives with five different occupations ... and then, for those five times ... I'd fall in love with the same person ... ~ Tite Kubo

You play beautifully," she told him, although the music was obscurely classical and, because there were no lyrics, unmemorable to her. But the compliment was like a drop of water on the dry wool of his face. His cheeks seemed to soften, color, even swell. "I hope it doesn't disturb you," he said. She held out her hand, the thin string of the bakery box looped around her wrist. "Not at all," she said, although three or four times now she had hung on her husband's arm to keep him from banging the broom handle against the ceiling. "We enjoy it," she said. And then, at a loss for a more substantial compliment, she added, "You must have some beautiful piano. ~ Alice McDermott

I'm not sure about these cookies ... They came from the local 7/11 bakery, or whatever. ~ Mitt Romney

As they made their way from the small marina across the campsite and through the town gate to the bakery, an orc came toward them carrying an armful of baguettes. It was accompanied by an elf dressed up as Legolas, its eyes glued to its iPhone. ~ Nina George

Humans can't fly. The Earth isn't flat. Her mother couldn't lie.
Three facts Aisha Malik would have been willing to bet her life on. Good thing she hadn't, because her mother, in an attempt to secure a marriage proposal for her, had just told a lie.
Aisha was an adequate cook as far as preparing normal, everyday meals was concerned, but making mind-blowing desserts, like the delicious chocolate cake everyone was generously praising? That was far beyond her culinary expertise. Contrary to what her mother had just said to impress their guests, that chocolate cake was not baked by Aisha.
It was made in a bakery. ~ Ramla Zareen Ahmad

Now when it comes to getting bread
I got the keys to the bakery ~ DJ Paul

Here it is. Let's say you're married, you love your wife, but you're attracted by another woman.'
'Excuse me, but I absolutely cannot understand how after eating my fill here I could go past a bakery and steal a roll. ~ Leo Tolstoy

You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta.
"Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal.
"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.
That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.
Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me. ~ Suzanne Collins

The mated males are biased. They want more females here for their own females. Many of the single males will likely have an issue, since it is tradition."
"Well if the single males want more females here, that's the only way to do it. They're only hurting themselves."
His fingers flexed slightly against hers. "Why do you think females would come here, anyway?"
"Why wouldn't they? I knew nothing about this sector and even after my tour I still don't know much about it. Maybe if there was an attraction here - other than the males - it would bring more females."
He straightened and pushed up so that his hands caged her against the headboard. "This facility puts out the best warriors and we do some of the most intense and covert off-world missions. We will not have attractions here like a… carnival."
She blinked, realizing he'd misunderstood her. Unable to stop herself, a giggle escaped.
She cupped the side of his face. Midnight black stubble already covered his jaw. She shivered, remembering the feel of it against her inner thighs not too long ago. "I didn't mean that kind of attraction. I mean, give the females an incentive, like luxury housing or the chance to run a business here. There are so many business opportunities here for women. So far I've only seen one clothing shop and one bakery run by females."
He was silent a long moment as he watched her. "I think I might be biased too."
"How so?"
"Because I want to change ~ Savannah Stuart

There's a woman in the bakery who smiles at me as if everyone I've ever known has just died. ~ Scarlett Thomas

You expect certain things to always be there, like the bakery on the corner, or the boy you grew up with. But when the very ground can eat you alive without warning, what's to say the ocean won't dry up? Or the stars won't suddenly shut off? Nothing is forever. ~ Stacey Lee, Outrun The Moon

As dawn broke over the mountains on the horizon, Iduna rode into the sleepy village. She spotted the sign for Tomally's Baked Goods almost immediately. It was just as her friend had described in her letters. The bakery was attached to a modest house that was clean and bright, with a window box filled with golden crocus. They were Anna's favorite flower. It had to be a sign. ~ Jen Calonita

Why ask for your daily bread when you own the bakery? ~ Randy Alcorn

I'm not very into pastas or heavy foods like meat, but pastries, especially if they come from a really nice French bakery, I go crazy over! I try to allow myself those little treats in the morning for breakfast, then I have a lighter lunch. ~ Barbara Fialho

I simmer in the half-light of a stoop, raising beers under a pompadour on the first brisk night, pressure more potent than any barometer can read. To see your hand to the tramp of feet is a way to measure strangers. To feel your hair on my finger accidentally is common sense, a way of leading you to me as the watch moves. We return to our bed through the bakery smells of daybreak, sky palling, empty of jets. The schedule is suspended, then resumes like gray dead hands in the east, and I want you never to die. ~ John Godfrey

Bakery air is that steaming hot front of thick, buttery fumes waiting for you just inside the door of a bakery. And I am just going to tell you straight up: That is some fine air! ~ Neil Pasricha

Between 10 and 20 percent of people with anorexia die from heart attacks, other complications and suicide; the disease has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Or Kitty could have lost her life in a different way, lost it to the roller coaster of relapse and recovery, inpatient and outpatient, that eats up, on average, five to seven years. Or a lifetime: only half of all anorexics recovery in the end. The other half endure lives of dysfunction and despair. Friends and families give up on them. Doctors dread treating them. They're left to stand in the bakery with the voice ringing in their ears, alone in every way that matters. ~ Harriet Brown

Tomorrow I want to get a New York bagel and see how it stacks up against Bodo's." Bodo's Bagels are legendary in Charlottesville; we're very proud of those bagels.
Putting my head on his shoulder, I yawn and say, "I wish we could go to Levain Bakery so I could try their cookie. It's supposed to be like no chocolate chip cookie you've had before. I want to go to Jacques Torres's chocolate shop too. His chocolate chip cookie is the definitive chocolate chip cookie, you know. It's truly legendary…" My eyes drift closed, and Peter pats my hair. I'm starting to fall asleep when I realize he's unraveling the milkmaid braids Kitty pinned on the crown of my head. My eyes fly back open. "Peter!"
"Shh, go back to sleep. I want to practice something."
"You'll never get it back to how she had it."
"Just let me try," he says, collecting bobby pins in the palm of his hand.
When we get to the hotel in New Jersey, despite his best efforts, my braids are lumpy and loose and won't stay pinned. "I'm sending a picture of this to Kitty so she'll see what a bad student you are," I say as I gather up my things.
"No, don't," Peter quickly says, which makes me smile. ~ Jenny Han

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

At the bakery it's just me. It's a small place. Just me and the raspberry horns and the tourtiere pies and my cigarette going in the ashtray near the black sink. Every once in a while a car passes through the dark street outside the storefont windows, but that's pretty much all I see of people while I'm there, until the end of my shift at eight when Monica shows up to open the store for the day. A solid twelve hours by myself, nothing but the radio to keep me company, and I like it just fine, being alone. It's even better in the winter, during a storm, when the snow piles up outside and no cars come by at all. Inside the bakery it's warm and there's plenty to keep my hands busy. Times like that, for all I can tell I'm the only person left on earth. I could go on making pies and watching the snow pile up until the end of time, so long as there was enough coffee on hand. I don't need company like some people seem to. ~ Ron Currie Jr.