Quotes About Italian Coffee
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I remembered the taste of good Italian coffee in my London flat, brewed at the expense of time and a good deal of mess, compared to the sort that came out of machines in the office at the press of a button. I remembered walking to art school, through the windy winter, over hills and heaths: how much gladder I was to reach the rich warmth and to toast my hands on a radiator, than if I had gone by car. I remembered the nickels my father gave me as a child for being good: how much more I valued them than I would a dollar bill given all at once for no reason. Of course God as the ultimate parent could give happiness for the asking, just as my father could have given a handful of dollar bills, but at the age of five would I have known its value, or would it have looked to me just like a wad of grubby green paper? ~ Sumangali Morhall
Claudette looks down at the thing in her hand. She turns it one way and the other. It is a packet of Italian coffee, half used, left behind. Innocuous enough in itself but in Claudette's hands, this particular morning, it is as dangerous as cyanide.
She isn't going to sniff it, no, she isn't. She wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt such a thing. Just a whiff of those smoky, dark, aromatic granules – heated up they always were, at length, lovingly, every morning in this kitchen, for all the years he lived here, the way he would stand waiting for them to brew, looking out of that window, that robe of his loose over his pyjamas, a child, usually, on his shoulder or his arm – would be enough to tip her over the edge. She isn't going to do it.
Certainly not.
Then she does, of course. She removes the clip, she places it on the counter, she parts the top of the silver-and-red packet and she brings it to her face and she inhales, she inhales, she inhales. ~ Maggie O'Farrell
As Ruth only knows one priest (one male priest that is) she's not that surprised to find Father Hennessey waiting for her at one of the long tables, a cappucino in front of him. 'Hallo Ruth, sorry to call in on you like this.'
'That's OK.'
'Are you going to get yourself a drink? This coffee's really very good. It's truly terrible, the stuff they serve at the police station.'
'I know.' Ruth has had her own experience of Nelson's coffee. She wonders if it's a way of torturing suspects until they confess. In contrast, the coffee at the university is excellent. Ruth gets herself an espresso. She thinks that she is going to need the energy. She has a feeling that, like the visit from Nelson all those years ago, this conversation is going to complicate her life. ~ Elly Griffiths
Anything worth having is hard to keep,
I love you like my coffee, so hot and so sweet.
So, let's stick it out so we never regret it,
I could forgive the past-but I never forget it. ~ Ghostface Killah
He rated it as a gain in coming to America, that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things. ~ Henry David Thoreau
When did having a life become an event you had to schedule? ~ Karen Marie Moning
our coffee in silence. Either this ~ Anonymous
I've got a surprise." Jase opens the door of the van for me a couple days later. I haven't seen Tim or Nan since the incident at the B&T, and I'm secretly glad for a break from the drama.
I slide into the van, my sneakers crunching into a crumpled pile of magazines, an empty Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup, various Poland Spring and Gatorade bottles, and lots of unidentifiable snack wrappers. Alice and her Bug are evidently still at work.
"A surprise, for me?" I ask, intrigued.
"Well, it's for me, but you too, kind of. I mean, it's something I want you to see."
This sounds a little unnerving. "Is it a body part?" I ask.
Jase rolls his eyes. "No. Jeez. I hope I'd be smoother than that."
I laugh. "Okay. Just checking. ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick
Only one thing is certian about coffee ... Wherever it is grown, sold, brewed, and consumed, there will be lively controversy, strong opinions, and good conversation. ~ Mark Pendergrast
His smile was like a Dylan album and a cup of coffee on a sunny afternoon ~ Jen Archer Wood
In this world, there are only a few things more available than gasoline: coffee, soda and beer. Oh, and bad advice. ~ Foster Kinn
Her voice gave me the impression she was surprised I was capable of good ideas. It was the kind of tone city people used down here when they ordered a large coffee and called it a "Venti Americano." I milled this over, plus her earlier words about backwoods Appalachia, and came to the conclusion she thought I was a hick.
Now, I admit, we have our fair share of hicks in Green Valley, Tennessee. We have hicks, hillbillies, rednecks, bumpkins, and the occasional reclusive yokel. But I was none of these things ~ Penny Reid
That night, while you were asleep, I unbuttoned your pajama jacket and looked at what he'd done to you. Afterward, I drove back to his house and very nearly killed him. If he hadn't started crying and begging me to stop, I…" He let out the angry breath. "That was when I realized how I felt about you," he added, his eyes meeting hers. "A man wants to protect what he considers his own. It started then, that night."
She was surprised by what he was telling her. "You…looked at me?"
He nodded. His eyes narrowed. "You had the most beautiful little breasts," he said roughly. "And they were covered with bruises. I wanted to kiss the bruises, take you into my bed and hold you, just hold you, all night long so that you'd be safe. I didn't dare give in to the impulse, of course," he added with the first touch of amusement he'd shown since her arrival. "My mother would have horsewhipped me."
She felt waves of surprised pleasure lance through her body. "I never knew."
"I was always known for my poker face," he murmured. "But it was sheer agony to be around you. The older you got, the worse it was. It was inevitable that one day I'd go mad and take you." He sighed. "The most hellish part of the whole thing was knowing that all I had to do was touch you and you'd let me do anything I liked to you."
She traced the mouth of her coffee cup. "I loved you," she said quietly.
"I know."
There was a world of pain in the words. She looked up into his black eyes and ~ Diana Palmer
This is the last time we have breakfast together:
our warm coffee mugs on the kitchen table
our cold bare feet on the blue tile ~ Malak El Halabi
In the U.S. there are two types of hipsters: those who know how to program and those who serve coffee. ~ Cesar Hidalgo
My husband is actually Italian-American, and he thought I was Italian when he first met me. ~ Andrea Navedo
I understand that coffee and cigarettes are cool, fashionable and all that. But agree the tea with cookies still taste better. ~ Jared Leto
Instead of Otello being an Italian opera written in the style of Shakespeare, Othello is a play written by Shakespeare in the style of Italian opera. ~ George Bernard Shaw
I had let it all grow. I had supposed
It was all OK. Your life
Was a liner I voyaged in.
Costly education had fitted you out.
Financiers and committees and consultants
Effaced themselves in the gleam of your finish.
You trembled with the new life of those engines.
That first morning,
Before your first class at College, you sat there
Sipping coffee. Now I know, as I did not,
What eyes waited at the back of the class
To check your first professional performance
Against their expectations. What assessors
Waited to see you justify the cost
And redeem their gamble. What a furnace
Of eyes waited to prove your metal. I watched
The strange dummy stiffness, the misery,
Of your blue flannel suit, its straitjacket, ugly
Half-approximation to your idea
Of the properties you hoped to ease into,
And your horror in it. And the tanned
Almost green undertinge of your face
Shrunk to its wick, your scar lumpish, your plaited
Head pathetically tiny.
You waited,
Knowing yourself helpless in the tweezers
Of the life that judges you, and I saw
The flayed nerve, the unhealable face-wound
Which was all you had for courage.
I saw that what you gripped, as you sipped,
Were terrors that killed you once already.
Now I see, I saw, sitting, the lonely
Girl who was going to die.
That blue suit.
A mad, execution uniform,Ted Hughes
Now there was a crack, a kind of canyon, between the Woodrow Call sitting with Teresa on the train and the Woodrow Call who had made the campfire that morning and saddled his horse. The crack was permanent, the canyon deep. He could not get across it, back to himself. His last moments as himself had been spent casually - making a campfire, drinking coffee, saddling a horse. ~ Larry McMurtry
Our eyes met and the soul-light danced between. "Well.." he said, "how about coffee? ~ Rachel Heffington
In what must surely be considered one of the great lost scripts of history (or a Saturday Night Live sketch), Chase brought his usual sensibility to a trial run, having Kevin discover The Catcher in the Rye and start smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and conversing with the shade of Holden Caulfield. ~ Brett Martin
If I feel ragged, my prep team seems in worse condition, knocking back coffee and sharing brightly colored little pills. As far as I can tell, they never get up before noon unless there's some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair. ~ Suzanne Collins
Claire wants to say: Well, I'd say fuck too, if I were me. I'd say it backward and forward and around the block, fuck this and fuck that and fuck it all once, twice, three times. But all she does is smile at Marcia and give her what she hopes is a nod that understands that it's absolutely no problem to say fuck, on Park Avenue, on a Wednesday, at a coffee morning, in fact it's probably the best thing to say, given the circumstances, maybe they should all say it in unison, make a singsong out of it. ~ Colum McCann
Dean Mohamet, a Muslim landowner from Patna who had followed his British patron to Ireland. There he soon eloped with, and later marries, Jean Daly, from a leading Anglo-Irish family ... In 1807 Dean Mohamet moved to London where he opened the country's first Indian owned curry restaurant, Dean Mohamet's Hindoostanee Coffee House : ... He finally decamped to Brighton where he opened what can only be described as Britain's first oriental massage parlour and became "Shampooing Surgeon to Kings George IV and William IV. " ~ William Dalrymple
The problem with trying to be relevant is it makes us copy what culture is already doing. To be relevant, you have to copy what is cool. So we put our mouths on the tailpipe of secular culture in hopes we can recycle some of it and use it for ourselves. The problem with this is that it automatically puts us ten to fifteen years behind culture because rather than setting the precedent, we are copying their systems. This is where we get a huge section of Christian apparel and coffee mugs that simply copy secular logos. My favorite is the shirt with the words "Holy Spirit" printed in the same font and logo as Sprite. Or the one with "A bread crumb and a fish" instead of Abercrombie and Fitch. We call it redeeming, but it's actually stealing. Making bad art is bad in and of itself, but if we are Christians, this takes on a whole other level of weight. Because we are called to mirror and reflect God, everything we do should give people a proper picture of who he is. ~ Jefferson Bethke
Nobody really likes coffee. They just pretend to because drinking coffee makes them feel like a proper adult. ~ Holly Bourne
Coffee should be drunk in equal parts with sugar. ~ Andrea Cremer
He slammed his cup down. Coffee splashed over the rim and puddled around the base. "What on earth gave you the idea I want space? I want you here. With me. All the time. I want to come home and hear the shower running and get excited because I know you're in it. I want to struggle every morning to get up and go to the gym because I hate the idea of leaving your warm body behind in bed. I want to hear a key turn in the lock and feel contented knowing you're home. I don't want fucking space, Harper."
Harper laughed.
"What's funny?"
"I didn't mean space. I meant space, like closet space, a drawer in the bedroom, part of the counter in the bathroom."
Trent's mouth twitched, a slight smile making its way to his lips.
"Like a compromise. A commitment that I want more. I seem to recall you telling me in the car about something being a step in the right direction to a goal we both agreed on. Well, I want all those things you just said, with you, eventually. And if we start to leave things at each other's places, it's a step, right?"
Trent reached up, flexing his delicious tattooed bicep, and scratched the side of his head. Without speaking, he leapt to his feet, grabbing Harper and pulling her into a fireman's lift.
"Trent," she squealed, kicking her feet to get free. "What are you doing?"
He slapped her butt playfully and laughed as he carried her down the hallway.
Reaching the bedroom, Trent threw her onto the bed. "We're doing ~ Scarlett Cole
New Rule: Gun-control people have to stop pressuring Starbucks to ban guns. I want my gun nuts overcaffeinated, twitchy, and accident-prone. That way, the problem will take care of itself. Plus, if just one gun nut kills just one pseudo-intellectual writing a screenplay-slash-graphic-novel on his iPad, natural selection is doing its job. ~ Bill Maher
I had no idea what they were saying in Italian as a child, they spoke too quickly on the radio. But I realized that language was very funny. ~ Dominic Chianese
You can have a coke since you never did learn to be civilized and drink coffee. ~ Nora Roberts
That girl didn't have a moment's peace from the day Adriano Dardano set foot in Galway and started chasing her." Sister Brannigan said, as she led them around the convent garden. "Nice of Francesca to stay still for him to catch her then wasn't it?" Alessandro remarked dryly. "Mmph," the nun responded. "My grandfather loved Francesca," Alessandro insisted. "Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead. But let's call a spade a spade, hmm? Your grandfather was a charmer. Now perhaps he didn't realize just how naïve our Francesca was and how besotted with him she was." "Mmm, very generous of you," Alessandro grumbled. "I will say that on the times he brought some food he had made with Francesca up to the convent, it was clear he had a wonderful talent in the kitchen. Now mind ye, the Italian food was a bit rich for my taste but still, rather good." "I'm sure my grandfather's resting easier in his grave now that the holy sister has complimented his cooking," Alessandro whispered in Bree's ear making, her laugh out loud and Sister Brannigan turn to her in question. ~ E. Jamie
Another revolution around the sun and I was still no closer to getting home. Laying on my lumpy mattress in my blood-stained shirt and dusty jeans with my arm over my eyes, I tried to imagine I was lying on Violet's couch. Clara paced in her cell and I let myself believe it was Violet, padding around the kitchen. My memory kicked up the image of her in tiny cotton shorts and a baggy Beatles t-shirt making coffee. My chest swelled and more than ever I wished I could see her face again, hear her voice. ~ Allison Sipe
I lived with a coffee farmer called Dukale on a trip I made with World Vision to Ethiopia, and realised there's no good reason for the disparity in opportunity around the world. ~ Hugh Jackman
Dr. Ryley. Mrs. Schneider looked a little surprised, then took on the role of hostess, pouring my coffee, offering sugar, cream. She pressed cookies on me, ~ John Connolly
Coffee just makes me happy. ~ Stacey King
Love," he whispered in Italian, "is a single soul inhabiting two bodies". ~ Elizabeth Hunter
I hate to admit this but I don't even know how to make a cup of tea or coffee. I can boil a kettle for a pot noodle and I've been known to warm up some food in the microwave. ~ Michael Owen
I think because both of my parents were essentially salespeople, and Italian-Americans, I always seemed to get along with people; I had a knack of finding something to talk about. ~ Bob Colacello
I sipped the coffee and lit a cigarette. I can't say that I enjoyed the taste of coffee or the feeling of smoke descending into my lungs, I could barely distinguish the two, the point was to do it, it was a routine, and as with all routines, protocol was everything. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard
Pope John Paul II's press secretary, who said, See, if only the Pope were Italian, he woulda shot back! Never got a dinner! ~ Red Buttons
Brown, I say, deep brown. Like coffee without any milk. ~ David Levithan
Coffee is for CLOSERS! ~ Michael Wayne
A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked. ~ Anais Nin
Starbucks goes to a great effort, and pays twice as much for its coffee as its competitors do, and is very careful to help coffee producers in developing countries grow coffee without pesticides and in ways that preserve forest structure. ~ Jared Diamond
Right now, do you want to come up and... uhm... I´ve got movies! Or, uhm, a soda. Or... coffee. I´ve got coffee and biscotti! Or...." "Sex, Zach," Sean said soberly. "I think we can skip the preliminaries. We need to have sex. ~ Amy Lane
I think, reading the Grimm's fairy tales, they all have some sort of moral component to them, teaching you a lesson. ~ Claire Coffee
Soon, things were heating up in the kitchen. The first course was a variation on a French recipe that had been around since Escoffier, Baccala Brandade. Angelina created a silky forcemeat with milk, codfish, olive oil, pepper, and slow-roasted garlic, a drizzle of lemon juice, and a shower of fresh parsley, then served it as a dip with sliced sourdough and warmed pita-bread wedges, paired with glasses of bubbly Prosecco.
The second course had been a favorite of her mother's called Angels on Horseback- freshly shucked oysters, wrapped in thin slices of prosciutto, then broiled on slices of herb-buttered bread. When the oysters cooked, they curled up to resemble tiny angels' wings. Angelina accented the freshness of the oyster with a dab of anchovy paste and wasabi on each hors d'oeuvre. She'd loved the Angels since she was a little girl; they were a heavenly mouthful.
This was followed by a Caesar salad topped with hot, batter-dipped, deep-fried smelts. Angelina's father used to crunch his way through the small, silvery fish like French fries. Tonight, Angelina arranged them artfully around mounds of Caesar salad on each plate and ushered them out the door.
For the fifth course, Angelina had prepared a big pot of her Mediterranean Clam Soup the night before, a lighter version of Manhattan clam chowder. The last two courses were Parmesan-Stuffed Poached Calamari over Linguine in Red Sauce, and the piece de resistance, Broiled Flounder with a Coriander Reduction. ~ Brian O'Reilly
Coffee is cheap, drinks are an audition, lunch is an interview, but dinner means business; the business of romance. ~ Patti Stanger
For decades, chalk and alum have been added to bread, and burnt corn and peas ground up to make coffee. Vinegar is rendered sharper by the addition of sulphuric acid, arrowroot is added to milk to thicken it, mustard is eked out with flour, strychnine is added to beer for bitterness and green vitriol to encourage a foaming head. And these are but the harmless manipulations. ~ M.J. Carter
