Mug Quotes

Well, I guess that answers my question." The deep velvet voice startles me.
I jump, grab my pillow like I'm going to use it as a weapon.
Will stands in the doorway, sipping from a metallic travel mug. His gray T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest in a way that makes my throat close up.
"What question?" I ask, breathless.
"Whether you're as beautiful in the morning as you are during the rest of the day."
"Oh," I say dumbly, pushing the tangle of hair back off my shoulders, certain I don't look good right now, just rolling out of bed. Not that I take pains with my appearance on the average day, but still...who looks their best fresh out of bed? "You're here again," I murmur.
"Apparently."
"Can't stay away?"
"Apparently not."
I'm okay with that. Great, in fact.
"I made you breakfast," he adds.
"You can cook?" I'm impressed.
He grins. "I live in a bachelor household, remember? My mom died when I was a kid. I hardly remember her. I kind of had to learn to cook."
"Oh," I murmur, then sit up straighter. "Wait a minute. How'd you get in here?"
"Opened the front door." He takes another sip from his mug and looks at me like I'm in trouble. "Your mom really should lock the door when she leaves."
I arch a brow. "Would that have kept you out?"
He smiles a little. "You know me well. ~ Sophie Jordan

Nanny Ogg could see the future in the froth on a beer mug. It invariably showed that she was going to enjoy a refreshing drink which she almost certainly was not going to pay for. ~ Terry Pratchett

There are popular celebrities, there are unpopular celebrities and then there are the walking dead. You know the walking dead when you see them: they look like Mel Gibson, still striving for drunken charm in an L.A. County mug shot, after getting picked up on a DWI charge that included anti-semitic slurs directed at the police. ~ Jeffrey Kluger

She was an ocean, confined in a coffee mug. And she had the galaxies, confined in her pretty eyes. ~ Akshay Vasu

What are they teaching these thugs? -Why are there so many of them? -What is the Institute for Higher Aeronautics? -How many of the are there? There are only six of us! Why? -Why is DC public transportation so weird? -Why don't we mug those Eraser goons for money more often? -Fang's Blog ~ James Patterson

Don't let the case from 1995 fool you. Early Bil Gates Beige is just a color. Many wonders lurk therein."

"Many wonders?"

"A fast-as-hell processor. Shit-tons of memory. A hard drive that could crack nuts. And best of all, for our purposes, some very expensive audio editing software that I did not pay for."

"Ah. And the rest of this stuff--over here on the bookcase?"

"External drives. A CD burner. Extra parts. And that thing on the end that looks like a little hot plate is a mug-warmer my grandmother gave me for Christmas. So that's not part of FrankenHal. ~ Cherie Priest

She was afraid of us moving in together. With Mark, domestic intimacy had become domestic claustrophobia; and had riddled romance (though she never quite said this) like woodworm. It wasn't that she was resistant to the glamourlessness of stray toenails and washing up and underpants and mug-rings and hoovering and boredom; on the contrary: it was that she was horrified by her own willingness to sink so deeply into the comfort of such details. A no nonsense streak in her identified the ordinary with truth, the exotic with delusion. She and Mark had delighted in dehumbugging their own romance, had (she confessed) Larkinized themselves into mundanity addicts. In Mark's case (she suspected) because he knew deep down he had no magic in him; in her own because she knew deep down that she had too much (no nonsense streak or not), and that to release it would be to lose him - and perhaps herself. Therefore they had wallowed together in cosiness, both suffering, Mark for fear of her leaving him, her for fear (certainty, actually) that the romantic inside her would rise up and smash their deadening familiarity to pieces. ~ Glen Duncan

To espresso or to latte, that is the question ... whether 'tis tastier on the palate to choose white mocha over plain ... or to take a cup to go. Or a mug to stay, or extra cream, or have nothing, and by opposing the endless choice, end one's heartache ... ~ Jasper Fforde

Ice is most welcome in a cold drink on a hot day.
But in the heart of winter, you want a warm hot mug with your favorite soothing brew to keep the chill away.
When you don't have anything warm at hand, even a memory can be a small substitute.
Remember a searing look of intimate eyes.
Receive the inner fire. ~ Vera Nazarian

over the years I have cultivated a unique relationship with failure. I invite it. I survive it. I appreciate it. And then I mug the shit out of it. ~ Scott Adams

Whoever had said in the guidebooks that the bum bag was a sensible device against theft had lied; no single item of dressware ever invented cried out "mug me" more than a pouch of zip-up plastic suspended by your groin. ~ Kate Griffin

Consider a mug of American coffee. It is found everywhere. It can be made by anyone. It is cheap - and refills are free. Being largely without flavor, it can be diluted to taste. What it lacks in allure it makes up in size. It is the most democratic method ever devised for introducing caffeine into human beings. Now take a cup of Italian espresso. It requires expensive equipment. Price-to-volume ratio is outrageous, suggesting indifference to the consumer and ignorance of the market. The aesthetic satisfaction accessory to the beverage far outweighs its metabolic impact. It is not a drink; it is an artifact.

This contrast can stand for the differences between America and Europe - differences nowadays asserted with increased frequency and not a little acrimony on both sides of the Atlantic. The mutual criticisms are familiar. To American commentators Europe is 'stagnant.' Its workers, employers, and regulations lack the flexibility and adaptability of their U.S. counterparts. The costs of European social welfare payments and public services are 'unsustainable.' Europe's aging and 'cossetted' populations are underproductive and self-satisfied. In a globalized world, the 'European social model' is a doomed mirage. This conclusion is typically drawn even by 'liberal' American observers, who differ from conservative (and neoconservative) critics only in deriving no pleasure from it.

To a growing number of Europeans, however, it is America that is in trouble a ~ Tony Judt

I've been very lucky. All I wanted was to pay the rent. Then these characters took off and suddenly there were Hulk coffee mugs and Iron Man lunchboxes and The Avengers sweatshirts everywhere. Money's okay, but what I really like is working. ~ Stan Lee

Well fine, then. I could send you out to win my favor. Possibly on a quest involving bringing a large mug of coffee and a doughnut. Or the wholesale slaughter of all my enemies. I haven't decided which. ~ Holly Black

Another little-known favorite of mine takes some forethought in the early summer. We've all seen ox-eye daisy (Chrysanthemum leucanthemum) in fields and on roadsides; maybe you even grow it in your garden. As long as you can properly identify it, and as long as you can pick some from a safe, pesticide-free area (without secreting it from your neighbor's garden, even if she does grow a ton), snag handfuls of blooms and dry them well before storing them in a clean, dry jar with a tight-fitting lid. When a stuffy nose comes along, make a mug of tea with a heaping teaspoon of dried blooms. In about 30 minutes or less, a stuffed nose will be clear, and it should stay that way effectively for 4 to 6 hours, same as any cold capsule -- without the side effects. This works best with swollen nasal passages or a drippy nose. Drink a cup of the tea up to 4 times a day. ~ Diane Kidman

He passed into the galley and was greeted by a cloud of fragrant steam. The exotic scent of spices mingled with the tang of roasting meat. Startled, Gabriel choked on a sip from a tankard. In the corner, Stubb quickly shoved something behind his back. The old men's eyes shone with more than holiday merriment.
"Happy Christmas, Gray." Gabriel extended the tankard to him. "Here. We poured you some wine."
Gray waved it off with a chuckle. "That my new Madeira you're sampling?"
Gabriel nodded as he downed another sip. "Thought I should taste it before you serve it to company. You know, to be certain it ain't poisoned." He drained the mug and set it down with a smile. "No, sir. Not poisoned."
"And the figs? The olives? The spices? I assume you checked them all, too? For caution's sake, of course."
"Of course," Stubb said, pulling his own mug from behind his back and taking a healthy swallow. "Everyone knows you can't trust a Portuguese trader."
Gray laughed. He plucked an olive from a dish on the table and popped it into his mouth. Rich oil coated his tongue. "Did you find the crate easily enough?" he asked Stubb, reaching for another olive.
The old steward nodded. "It's all laid out, just so. Candles, too."
"Feels like Christmas proper." Gabriel tilted his head. "Miss Turner even gave me a gift."
Gray followed the motion, squinting through the steam.
I'll be damned. ~ Tessa Dare

So you find Miss Mercer beautiful?"
The buzzing in Spencer's head formed the words, "'She walks in beauty like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies.'"
"My God, now you're quoting poetry."
Had he said that aloud? Bloody hell. Spencer brandished his empty mug at his brother. "I always quote verse when I'm foxed."
"You must be very foxed to quote that idiot Byron. Or very impressed by Miss Mercer's looks. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

She smiled at him, and Val felt his heart trip on the next few beats. Good God, she was lovely. Just sitting here outside the Rooster, cradling her mug in her hands. A little dusty, a little tired, but in her warm, earthy dark-eyed way, she was beautiful. ~ Grace Burrowes

She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak herb tea which is now her substitute for coffee. At one time she thought that she could not live without coffee, but it turned out that it is really the warm large mug she wants in her hands, that is the aid to thought or whatever it is she practices through the procession of hours, or of days. ~ Alice Munro

Precipitous creature,' Kruppe muttered, reaching for the mug of wine the man had left behind. 'Ah, look at this,' he said, frowning up at Crokus, 'nigh two-thirds full. A potential waste!' Kruppe drank it down in one swift gulp, then sighed. 'Said potential averted, Dessembrae be praised. ~ Steven Erikson

Don't worry," I say, putting a PG Tips tea bag in her mug. "It's been happening for years. It's not getting worse. Besides, I'm not hearing voice, I'm overhearing them. I just don't know what they are saying. ~ Abigail Thomas

O lovely O most charming pug Thy gracefull air and heavenly mug ... His noses cast is of the roman He is a very pretty weoman I could not get a rhyme for roman And was obliged to call it weoman. ~ Marjorie Fleming

She thinks you're stalking me."
"Why the hell would I do that? I see too much of your ugly mug as it is. ~ Margaret Watson

the details of anything you love are
always what is most thrilling, most poignant,
most important.
i loved her as she rose from bed and fell back
against it again, and all she did in-between.
when you love someone you accept them,
you become them in a way, and all they
do forms into you. their mannerisms turn
into truth- the way she holds her favorite coffee mug,
the way she laughs, the way she smells, the way her lips
curl after certain words. all of the simple things
suddenly become gigantic things and light up the world
before you like a flame thrown into the clouds.
what a breathtaking display. the way
the earth begins to dissolve in your periphery
and a human being replaces it.

no matter what they tell you-
a person is a universe when truly
loved and anything less is not
love at all. ~ Christopher Poindexter

Given enough coffee I could rule the world ~ Terry Pratchett

The question, then, is how do we stop the nightmares?" Malcolm asks.
"I've got a solution," Six says, and everyone looks in her direction. She takes a considering sip from a mug of coffee. "Let's go kill Setrákus Ra."
Nine claps his hands and points at Six. "I like the way this chick thinks. ~ Pittacus Lore

Ptah held up his mug. "Do you realize, we've fought together, starved together, bled together, endured slavery, and looked into the jaws of death..."
"But we never drank together!" Marcus finished, clanking his mug to Ptah's.
"Exactly! The drink flows freely, and we must make up for lost time, ha ha ha! ~ Jennifer McKeithen

The world won't get more or less terrible if we're indoors somewhere with a mug of hot chocolate,' Kim said. 'Though it's possible it will seem slightly less terrible if there are marshmallows in the hot chocolate. ~ Kamila Shamsie

We're supposed to be sharing our memories of Dave Jones. I never met him, so I'm not much help, but you did. What was he like?"
Jones glanced at Molly. "Well. He was . . . tall."
"Tall," Gina shot Molly a look, too. Except hers was loaded with Can you believe this idiot?
"Very tall," Jones told her. "Taller than me." He stood up. "I really must go."
He handed Molly his mug, making sure their fingers touched, albeit too briefly, then thank-you-ed and good-evening-ed his way out of the tent.
Molly didn't wait for his footsteps to fade away before turning to Gina. "Are you all right?"
"Are you all right?" Gina countered, sotto voce. "Brother, could this guy be any more clueless? You wanted to talk about Jones and . . . Best he can manage is he's tall? And did he really think I was interested in whether the fourth seat or the fifth seat behind the bus driver had more of its original pudding?"
Molly covered her smile with her hand. That had been excessive. "Some people talk when they're nervous," she suggested. And some people talked when they wanted to make sure other people wouldn't talk. ~ Suzanne Brockmann

Mug shot extortion sites turn this sort of thing into a business. Mug shots are public record, but they're not readily available. Owners of mug shot sites acquire the photos in bulk and publish them online, where everybody can find them, then charge individuals to remove their photos from the sites. ~ Bruce Schneier

Since I called her Wednesday and told her we're coming down, Jerra's been so beside herself, you'd think I told her I was bringing Charlie Hunnam home with me. She's called seven times. If we're even ten minutes late, she'll lose her mind." "Charlie who?" "Charlie Hunnam, Jax from Sons of Anarchy. She watches that show religiously. She has a Sons of Anarchy coffee mug. A Sons of Anarchy ashtray even though she doesn't smoke. A Sons of Anarchy t-shirt. And she has a Sons of Anarchy billfold that she actually uses that says, 'What would Gemma do?' She's told Hunter that if Charlie Hunnam shows up at the door and tells her she's the woman of his dreams, she's leaving him and their kids. Hunter is usually laidback about most stuff but seeing as he's half Mexican-American, half-WASP, dark-skinned, black-haired and looks absolutely nothing like Charlie Hunnam, not to mention he's ten years older than Charlie, he, for some reason, does not find this amusing. So, head's up, babe. Do not mention Sons of Anarchy and absolutely do not mention Charlie Hunnam or sparks will fly and I promise you'll get burned. ~ Kristen Ashley

What brings you onto my property?" Rhev said, cradling his mug with both hands trying to absorb its warmth.
Got a problem"
I can't fix your personality, sorry ~ J.R. Ward

Something smashed to the ground. Jack looked at me, all the mugs forgotten. "I'm not going to let anyone kill you." He grinned. "If I don't get to, no one should. ~ Kiersten White

You had a package. It was torn, so I looked in." She lifted one of a stack of firefighter calendars, with his own mug and half-naked body on the cover. "Nice," she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "Mr. 2008." He bit back a sigh. "It's for charity." "And you definitely contributed. ~ Jill Shalvis

Billy sipped the last of his coffee from the mug and shut down his laptop. 1,000 words wasn't great but it also wasn't as bad as no words at all. It hadn't exactly been a great couple of years and the royalties from his first few books were only going to hold out so much longer. Even if he didn't have anything else to worry about there was always Sara to consider. Sara with her big blue eyes so like her mother's.
He sat for a moment longer thinking about his daughter and all they'd been through since Wendy had passed. Then he picked up his mug with a long sigh and carried it to the kitchen to rinse it in the sink.
When he came back into his little living room and the quiet of 1 AM he wasn't surprised to find her there over to the side of the bookshelf hovering close to the floor just beyond the couch.
Wendy.
Her eyes were cold and intense in death, angry and spiteful in a way he'd never seen them when she was alive. What once had been beautiful was now a horror and a threat, one that he'd known far too well in the years since she'd died. He and Sara both.
He stood where he was looking at her as she glared up at him. Part of her smaller vantage point was caused by kneeling next to the shelf but he knew from the many times she'd walked or run through a room that death had also reduced her, made her no higher than 4 or 4 and half feet when she'd been 6 in life. She was like a child trapped there on the cusp between youth and coming adulthood. Crushe ~ Amanda M. Lyons

I trust you had a pleasant walk, Ian," he said when her door closed upstairs.
Ian stiffened slightly in the act of pouring some leftover coffee into a mug and glanced over his shoulder. One look at his uncle's expression told him that the older man was well aware that desire, not a need for fresh air, had caused Ian to take Elizabeth for a walk. "What do you think?" he asked irritably.
"I think you've upset her repeatedly and deliberately, which is not your ordinary behavior with women."
"There is nothing ordinary about Elizabeth Cameron."
"I completely agree," said the vicar with a smile in his voice. Closing his book, he put it aside. "I also think she is strongly attracted to you, and you are to her. That much is perfectly obvious."
"Then it should be equally obvious to a man of your discernment," Ian said in a low, implacable voice, "that we are completely ill-suited to each other. It's a moot issue in any case; I'm marrying someone else."
Duncan opened his mouth to comment on that, saw the expression on Ian's face, and gave up. ~ Judith McNaught

You were safe on a troll. Anyone wanting to mug a troll would have to use a building on a stick. ~ Terry Pratchett

He nearly called you again last night. Can you imagine that, after all this time? He can. He imagines calling you or running into you by chance. Depending on the weather, he imagines you in one of those cotton dresses of yours with flowers on it or in faded blue jeans and a thick woollen button-up cardigan over a checkered shirt, drinking coffee from a mug, looking through your tortoiseshell glasses at a book of poetry while it rains. He thinks of you with your hair tied back and the characteristic sweet scent on your neck. He imagines you this way when he is on the train, in the supermarket, at his parents' house, at night, alone, and when he is with a woman.

He is wrong, though. You didn't read poetry at all. He had wanted you to read poetry, but you didn't. If pressed, he confesses to an imprecise recollection of what it was you read and, anyway, it wasn't your reading that started this. It was the laughter, the carefree laughter, the three-dimensional Coca-Cola advertisement that you were, the try-anything-once friends, the imperviousness to all that came before you, the chain telephone calls, the in-jokes, the instant music, the sunlight you carried with you, the way he felt when you spoke to his parents, the introductory undergraduate courses, the inevitability of your success, the beach houses, ... ~ Elliot Perlman

What are you doin', man?" Scott's voice came from the doorway.

I turned and smiled. "Just thinking."

"You seem a little brighter."

"Actually, I was thinking about how I ended up thirty-six, divorced, and trapped in cubicle hell."

He walked to the coffeepot and poured a mug full then leaned against the counter. "You were a workaholic?" he offered.

"That's not why Elizabeth was unfaithful. She fell right into Brad's skinny arms, and he works more than I do. Hell, Elizabeth works more than I do."

"Why are you dwelling on the past? Look at you. You're tall. You have hair. And it looks like" - he waved his hand around at my stomach - "you might have abs?"

"You checking me out?"

"I'd kill for a head of hair like that."

Scott was the kind of guy who was bald by twenty-two. He's been shaving it Mr. Clean–style since then.

"What do women call that thing?" He pointed to the back of my head.

"A bun?"

"No, there's, like, a sexier name for it. The ladies love that shit."

"They call it a man-bun. ~ Renee Carlino

I loved him like I loved walking through summer grass barefoot, like I loved a warm mug in my palms, like I loved driving on a long road as the sun sets in the distance. It was a good, safe, simple sort of friendship - well, at first, anyway. ~ Matthew Quick

The difference between the Parthenon and the World Trade Center, between a French wine glass and a German beer mug, between Bach and John Philip Sousa, between Sophocles and Shakespeare, between a bicycle and a horse, though explicable by historical moment, necessity, and destiny, is before all a difference of imagination. ~ Guy Davenport

So I'm on my way to work and I stop to watch a pigeon fight a rat in the snow, and some fuckhead tries to mug me! ~ Josh Bazell

My God! You really like her,don't you? I knew you were attracted to the woman, but you really like her.I should have known. From the moment you returned to camp that night, grumbling about how the woman in this area were too damn pretty, I knew a female had finally burrowed underneath that hardened exterior. I just never dreamed you would also get to her."
"I hope I'm around when a woman finally lays claim to your sanity. With your impetuous personality,your actions will be far more out of character than mine."
Tyr clapped his mug on the table and threw his hands up in the air. "Not me. I swore an oath against women and commitments, and it is an oath I intend to keep.But you,my friend, are not me and do not have my reasons for rejecting happiness.Go to her, a woman like that would forgive a man, she might even find life in a stone. So much so,that she may even consider marrying him. Of course,he might have to grovel a little."
Ranulf pushed himself up,wishing Tyr was correct.Unfortunately, Bronwyn wasn't about to marry a man like him, not before and certainly not now. "I'm going to take a walk. ~ Michele Sinclair

Janet who said excellent! in answer to everything and drank coffee from a pink mug that said Janet. ~ Donna Tartt

Peter's mom told me he was talking about transferring to UNC next year. She wanted me to break up with him before he messed up his life for me."
"Damn! Peter's mom is kind of a bitch!"
"She didn't use those exact words, but that was the gist of it." I take a sip of tea. "I wouldn't want him to transfer for me either…My mom used to say not to go to college with a boyfriend, because you'll lose out on a true freshman experience."
"Well, to be fair, your mom never met Peter Kavinsky. She didn't have all the facts. If she had met him…" Trina lets out a low whistle. "She might've been singing a different tune."
Tears fill my eyes. "Honestly I regret breaking up with him and I wish I could take it all back!"
She tips up my chin. "Then why don't you?"
"I don't think he'll ever forgive me for hurting him like that. He doesn't let people in easily. I think I'm probably dead to him."
Trina tries to hide a smile. "I doubt that. Look, you'll talk to him at the wedding tomorrow. When he sees you in that dress, all will be forgiven."
I sniffle. "I'm sure he's not coming."
"I'm sure he is. You don't plan a man's bachelor party and then not show to the wedding. Not to mention the fact that he's crazy about you."
"But what if I hurt him again?"
She wraps both her hands around her mug of tea and takes a sip. "You can't protect him from being hurt, babe, no matter what you do. Being vulnerable, letting people in, getting hurt…it's all a par ~ Jenny Han

I wasn't terribly surprised to find Greg standing outside the door to my suite. But I was impressed when he handed me a mug of hot coffee.

"I don't know what a xenophobic hermit requires in the morning, so I made coffee." His voice was hushed.

"Coffee works," I whispered and took a sip of the black liquid, found it magnificently strong, "as long as it was made with the tears of women and children."

Greg flashed me a grin that made my stomach do backflips. "Is there any other way to make coffee? ~ Penny Reid

You think ninety percent of the things I want to do are silly."
"i think my allowing you to do all these things is silly."
She winced visibly. "We need less of this allow stuff.Besides, you owe me a night out without any trouble."
"You had trouble tonight?" Gary asked.
"There was no trouble." Gregori was clearly puzzled.
"You're always getting in fights. Everywhere we go,you just can't help yourself," Savannah accused ndignantly. "You picked the one tonight."
"You picked a fight?" Gary was astounded.
"I did not pick a fight," Gregori denied. "A few men were determined to mug us,so I provided them with an interesting experience. There was no fight. Had I actually struck them physical blows, they would be in the hospital." His white teeth gleamed, the silver eyes glittering with more than danger, with a hint of amusement. "As it is,they just think they should be hospitalized.There is nothing wrong with any of them.I was quite gentle for Savannah's sake.Which,I see, she does not appreciate."
"I would appreciate going out and behaving normally."
"I was behaving in my normal fashion, cherie," he reminded her gently.
"I take it we're going on a vampire hunt tomorrow night," Gary said, laughter in his voice. ~ Christine Feehan

So in order to cope, I pick locks, shoplift, pick pockets, mug people, panhandle, break and enter, steal cars, lie, fold, spindle, and mutilate. You name it, I've done it ~ Audrey Niffenegger

So you weren't in college."
"I wasn't, no." She takes another sip. "Your father was though. He was visiting for spring break. I mugged him."
"You what?"
"You have to understand I didn't make very much money, even with two jobs. It hardly even paid for my food. I couldn't fish, because-"
"You didn't want anyone to sense you in the water." Otherwise, she could have been pretty self-sufficient.
She nods. "So one day I see this group of cocky college students, spending money left and right. Pulling wads of cash out of their pockets to pay for small purchases, like ice cream." She rolls her eyes. "They were flashing it. They wanted people to know they were rich."
"Doesn't mean they wanted people to mug them," I mutter. ~ Anna Banks

She is standing just behind you. Just behind your right shoulder."
In the silence of the woods, Polly turned.
"I can't see her," she said.
"I am happy for you," said Wazzer, handing her the empty mug.
"But I didn't see anything," said Polly.
"No," said Wazzer. "But you turned around ... ~ Terry Pratchett

Don't remain silent about what you want, or you may never get it."
"You are very wise," Kieran said gravely.
"Well," said Dru. "I actually saw that on a mug."
"Mugs in this world are very wise. ~ Cassandra Clare

I say,she is sinfully attractive when she's angry.You may not claim to have a way with the ladies,but when you want to make one mad,you are indeed an expert."
Ranulf clenched his teeth and said nothing, but sent Tyr a flash of warning.
Tyr dismissed the look and pressed on,opting for a flank attack. "You know that dress she was wearing? She would wear that color more often, complements that odd color of blue in her eyes."
Ranulf sank onto the bench across the table from Tyr and raked his hands through his hair. "Take my advice and avoid looking too long at them.They can confound a man.Make him believe in lies."
"You might be right," Tyr agreed and moved to pour himself some more wine. "But when a man can't think straight,is it she who is telling the lies or is it he who is telling them to himself?"
"If you are trying to make a point, don't."
"No,no point." Tyr sighed and swirled his mug. "Just that she was looking pretty tonight. Did you not think so?"
"No."
"Well,I did.I especially liked the hair. Normally I do not like stuff being all free like that,gets in the way.I usually prefer a woman's hair to be pulled back and tidy,but hers...well,I just might have to change my mind."
Nothing from Ranulf.Not even a twitch.Damn.The man was stubborn.
Tyr swallowed the mug's contents for fortification.If he got out of this with his skin still intact,he would be lucky.He had maybe one more shot before Ranulf got up to leave,so it had to ~ Michele Sinclair

Jesus Christ," said my father. "Can you imagine? If it wasn't punishment enough ending up in a ruddy wheelchair, then you get our Lou turning up to keep you company."
"Bernard!" my mother scolded.
Behind me, Granddad was laughing into his mug of tea. ~ Jojo Moyes

I don't tweet or blog or order pizza with arugula on top. You won't find my mug on Facebook or Instagram. I don't have a life coach, an aroma therapist, or a manicurist, and I sure as hell don't do Pilates. ~ Paul Levine

Oh my God," he said. "What are you, a saint or something?" "I stole this mug," she said. "So, no. Besides, if the school closed down, you'd have to go home and finish your book or something. I did it for you. I'm not even telling anyone else. I mean, aside from my friends. Like you." "Are you trying to make me have an emotion?" Nate said, his eyes reddening a bit. "Because I've spent my whole life learning how to repress and deflect and you're kind of ruining my thing. ~ Maureen Johnson

I think the photographer is in love with the deaf woman, Genevieve says finally. Mercedes fingers the lip of her mug. How can you tell? He touches her the way we touch the books. ~ Lindsey Drager

A fire burned bright and warm in the hearth while Kale poured me a mug of hot chocolate. It was so weird to see him doing something so domestic. He was almost one hundred fifty years old and stood in front of me with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. ~ Inger Iversen

But I'm gay and in a relationship with a hot Viking king and we have a bible thumper ... thumping his bible against our bedroom wall ... so what if we got carried away? It's a vacation for us." Levi took a long sip from his mug before turning his trademark smirk up a few megawatts. "What's your excuse? ~ Mercy Celeste

I can't start the day without a cup of tea from my favourite mug, can you? I like Yorkshire Tea the best. What about you? ~ Juno Dawson

There is more similarity in the marketing challenge of selling a precious painting by Degas and a frosted mug of root beer than you ever thought possible. ~ A. Alfred Taubman

I paid you five thousand instead and promised the balance only if you made the match. As it turns out, this is your lucky day because I've decided to write you the full check, whether the match comes from you or from Portia. As long as I have a wife and you've been part of the process, you'll get your money." He toasted her with his beer mug. "Congratulations."

She put down her fork. "Why would you do that?"

"Because it's efficient."

"Not as efficient as having Powers handle her own introductions. You're paying her a fortune to do exactly that."

"I'd rather have you."

Her pulse kicked. "Why?"

He gave her the melty smile he must have been practicing since the cradle, one that made her feel as though she was the only woman in the world. "Because you're easier to bully. Do we have a deal or not?"

"You don't want a matchmaker. You want a lackey."

"Semantics. My hours are erratic, and my schedule changes without warning. It'll be your job to cope with all that. You'll soothe ruffled feathers when I need to cancel at the last minute. You'll keep my dates company when I'm going to be late, entertain them if I have to take a call. If things are going well, you'll disappear. If not, you'll make the woman disappear. I told you before. I work hard at my job. I don't want to have to work hard at this, too."

"Basically, you expect me to find your bride, court her, and hand her over at the al ~ Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Within the blink of an eye, another waitress - this one giving her no more than a small smile and a "Here you are, shug" - has slipped her a ponderous mug of steaming coffee, along with some cream and sugar. Mona takes a sip, and she can immediately understand why it's talked about: it is rich and strong and faintly chocolatey, so good it induces a sigh of satisfaction. ~ Robert Jackson Bennett

Martha Stewart showed up at Manhattan FBI Headquarters to have her finger prints taken and pose for a mug shot. Then Martha explained how to get ink off your fingers using seltzer water and lemon juice. ~ Conan O'Brien

I took a fresh mug of coffee. Grilling grieving families always goes down better with caffeine. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

The sun was already long past the spire when Garrick purchased a mug of coffee from his regular man on the tip of Oxford Street. But his palate had been educated by 21st century coffee, and he judged this mug as bilge water not fit for the Irish. ~ Eoin Colfer

How 'bout some coffee?" Jake said as he hurried over to the coffee pot on the stove and filled a mug with the remainder of the steaming brew. When he got to the table with it, however, he stopped and looked helplessly from Lucinda to Elizabeth, obviously not certain who ought properly to be served first.
"Coffee," Lucinda informed him dampeningly when he took a step toward her, "is a heathen brew, unfit for civilized people. I prefer tea."
"I'll have coffee," Elizabeth said hastily. Jake flashed her a grateful smile, put the mug before her, then returned to the stove. Rather than look at Ian, Elizabeth stared, as if fascinated, at Jake Wiley's back while she sipped her coffee. ~ Judith McNaught

Substances that can give a shot in the arm to the mesolimbic dopamine system have self-reinforcing effects, and users will rob stores and mug elderly people to continue obtaining these specific molecular shapes. These chemicals, working their magic at scales one thousand ~ David Eagleman

She jumped to her feet and hurried off, returning only seconds later with a dark brown bottle and a coffee mug that said And then Buffy staked Edward. The End. ~ Heidi Betts

Hey, sleepyhead," Mom said brightly when I walked into the kitchen.
I grunted. Tara handed me my coffee mug. I filled it quickly, added my milk and sugar, and took my first sip.
"Watching Ash drink coffee is kinda like watching a werewolf movie," Tara said. "You can see the transformation from man into beast."
"Except for me, it's beast into girl, I know," I said sourly and took another sip.
"Want some pancakes?" Mom asked.
"No, thanks." I leaned against the counter.
"They're really good," Josh said. He was watching me like he was hoping to see the transformation that Tara was talking about. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

They smiled at each other.

Jane looked away. She picked up her mug of tea and took a sip even though it was all gone. The doorbell rang.

"That will be Celeste," said Madeline.

Great, thought Jane, continuing to pretend-sip her empty mug of tea. Now I'll be in the presence of both great love and great beauty. ~ Liane Moriarty

When the beer came, I dipped a finger in it and wet down each corner of the paper napkin to anchor it, so it would not come up with the mug each time and make me appear ridiculous. I ~ Charles Portis

a girl in a lemon-coloured shirt sat at a desk, with word processor, potted plant, mug of pencils, furry gonk, and wadges of orange paper. ~ Hugh Laurie

When I first started following writers on social media, I imagined a deluge of profound quotes, writing tips and insights into the plight of wordsmiths. There was some of that. Mostly though, my timeline was taken up with their obsession with coffee: 'I want coffee/I'm having coffee/I've had coffee.' Then came photos of their favourite coffee mug/pot/shop/barista. So, if you've enjoyed a recently-published book, give credit to writers: the vampiric aficionados of the coffee cherry. ~ Stewart Stafford

One of you needs food,' said the Old Woman, 'and three of you need healing.'
So the Princess sat down to good soup, and fresh bread, and fruit tart with clotted cream and a mug of sharp cider, and the Old Woman put the creatures on the table, and healed them in her way. Her way was to make them tell the story of their hurts, and as they told, she applied ointments and drops with tiny feathery brushes and little bone pins ... ~ A.S. Byatt

There is something so comforting, so soothing about a mug of hot chocolate. No matter how old I am, I think chocolat chaud will always have the ability to take me back to special times, when all of the world's problems seemed to melt away by consuming one simple beverage. ~ Lisa Schroeder

I have a "carpe diem" mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet. (Oct. 28th is officially Slap A Dead Poet Day in our Family now) ~ Joanne Sherman

She was downstairs now in the living room watching TV' with a mug of hot chocolate and a fried egg and pineappel

pineappel?

yes pineappel- sandwich. ~ Katharine McEwen

A nook person finds the dog at the party; drinks wine from a mug; sits on the floor and braids carpet tassels only to become self-conscious and unbraid them. ~ Durga Chew-Bose

Mug your destiny in an alley and punch it until it gives you what you want"
pg 240 ~ Catherynne M Valente

She sat at the dining table, a steaming mug of tea in front of her, a distant look in her eyes. Holden couldn't tell if she was melancholy or solving a complex engineering problem in her head. Those looks were confusingly similar. ~ James S.A. Corey

Does he ever eat cotton candy for breakfast?"
He stepped around the counter to face us, lowered his gaze, and took a sip from the black mug in his hands.
"No," I said. "He's very much like the Big Bad Wolf. He eats little girls for breakfast."
He spoke from behind the cup, his voice deep and as smooth as butterscotch. "She's wrong. I eat big girls for breakfast. ~ Darynda Jones

These I have loved:
Pork with apple sauce; tea in a heavy mug;
The smell of new books, and musty ones;
A girl with red coils for curls
--Her scream--Her smile;
The slap of a blonde dog's tongue
Against my face; and an old face--Nana's;
A broken fence--a secret pathway between two houses;
The sinking into a familiar bed;
Sheets white and crispy clean;
The return of a woman in a green coat--
Imperfect and human; The sound of poetry;
And of pencil lead scuffing the page as I write;
Made-up stores; and Truth.
These I have loved. ~ Sarah Crossan

Guthrie handed him the mug, a wee pout pulling his pale face out of shape. With his semi-skimmed skin, faint ginger hair, and blond eyebrows he looked like a ghost that had been at the pies. "Milk, two sugars. ~ Stuart MacBride

It's the nicest thing on earth if someone comes up to me and says, 'Every day I drink out of a mug you designed.' ~ Jonathan Adler

This is how my day usually goes.
I leave the faucet open and know what it's like
to have my fingers around a minuscule whirlpool,
and I cry, hoping if I do it for hours
the water will end up tasting like the ocean,
just so I could get myself half-drowning.
I don't know how to float on water.
This is the closest thing I will ever get to breathing
without forcing my lungs to turn into a garbage truck,
or a car alarm, or anything that can get my neighbors
out of their doors. Maybe if I blink my eyes
as fast as I can, I will end up having lightning
for tears because that's how much they hurt.
There is the constant banging on my door.
On my bedside table is an empty mug
that was once made with everything close
to tasting like beautiful and patient and calm.
And I am not. I am stepping on my own leash.
my skin has purple circles, my eyes has been spending
too many hours pretending to be an Olympic pool,
when it's too little to even be a sink. Last night,
I realized, the tap water will never taste like tears,
no matter how many hours I spent bending.
The banging on my bedroom door will never stop.
I wonder how long I can keep this up until I remember
that there's always a limit to pain, and none to love. ~ Kharla M. Brillo

What I really want is to sit next to someone on an L.L. bean blanket on the beach in the fall and drink coffee from the same mug. I don't want some rusty '73 Ford Pinto with a factory-defective gas tank that causes it to explode when its rear-ended in the parking lot of the supermarket. So why do I keep looking for Pintos? ~ Augusten Burroughs

You'd be doing us both a favor.' 'This drives me bats. You know this drives me bats.' Orin and Hal's term for this routine is Politeness Roulette. This Moms-thing that makes you hate yourself for telling her the truth about any kind of problem because of what the consequences will be for her. It's like to report any sort of need or problem is to mug her. ~ David Foster Wallace

You should respect Ian, Adam." Adam frowned. "I thought you would be more fun than this." Eve leaned over. "Alex told me Ian has a black eye." Adam fist pumped. "Fuck, yeah. You go, girl." Serena slapped at her husband's arm. "Be polite." Jake was on the other side of Serena, a mug of coffee in his hand. "He doesn't know how. He thinks tact is a made-up word. ~ Lexi Blake

This yet another DIY project that's simple enough it doesn't need laid out, listed instructions. Simply take the permanent marker of your choice and decorate your mug as you wish! You can keep it simple or go all out with a variety of colors, themes, drawings, sayings, and more. When your mug (or mugs) is decorated to your content, pop it in the oven at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. It is recommended to hand-wash the mugs after use rather than pop them in the dishwasher to better preserve the decorations. ~ John Getter

He watched Carl pouring coffee into a huge mug bearing a photo of a cute corgi, below which was the word Alastair. ~ K.C. Wells

Demetrious was studying Law on the Open University and was, in all ways, a ray of sunshine into her life: warm and glorious, achingly temporary. He lived just off the high street with his boyfriend Rob, who worked in the City, doing something neither Demi nor Sukie pretended to understand.
"All the cute guys are gay," Sukie had laughed, that first day, holding her coffee mug high to her face to hide her genuine disappointment. Demi had just tilted his head and looked at her playfully, an expression she would get to know well.
"I'm not gay," he had clarified, matter-of-factly.
"Living with a boyfriend called Rob doesn't sound very straight!" Sukie had pointed out.
"Labels!" Demi had scorned, with one of his characteristic and very Greek hand gestures. "I fall in love with the person, not the gender. ~ Erin Lawless

I just ... I understand you might want to start dating more seriously, and that means dating someone from town. But if you're going to do that ... " This time he took a long drink of coffee, and the mug was still at his lips when he said, "I like Daniel. He takes care of you."
I blinked. "Oh my God. Did you really just say that? He takes care of me?"
Dad flushed. "I didn't mean it like-"
"Takes care of me? Did I go to sleep and wake up in the nineteenth century?" I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. "Ack! I can't go to school like this. Where's my corset? My bonnet? ~ Kelley Armstrong

Meralda shook her head. "Pay him no attention, gentlemen," she said. "Logic fails. Reason surrenders. Silence is your only defense."

"Silence, and a whooping big crossbow," muttered Mug. Kervis grinned, and Mug winked. "That's a lad," he whispered. "There's hope for you yet. ~ Frank Tuttle

Susan Boynton mug. "I will," Birdie said, smiling. "Haven't you already read this?" he asked, ~ Nan Rossiter

Eli Campbell, managing partner of Chambers and White, walked into the break room carrying an empty mug. Partners seldom entered the room, but Eli was the exception. He practiced "management by wandering around." Chatting with the staff while pouring his own coffee or biting into a hot Krispy Kreme doughnut gave him an insight that none of the other partners had. Unlike the other partners, he was friendly, outgoing, and approachable when in the office. But, that was a practiced facade. ~ Tom Collins

If someone asked me to pick out my own vagina's mug shot out of a lineup of vaginas, I'd be helpless. And probably concerned about what exactly my vagina had been doing that constituted a need for its own mug shot. ~ Jenny Lawson

When did having a life become an event you had to schedule? ~ Karen Marie Moning

What's a Muggle?" he asks, taking it from me. "I save that mug for special people, Kit. Don't ask questions. ~ Tarryn Fisher

So how many tattoos do you have exactly?" she asked as Travis met her at the front of her car. It was a question she'd been dying to ask but she couldn't believe she'd just blurted it out all of a sudden. What was it about this man that made her so nervous that she spoke before she thought?
He'd been blowing on the top of the travel mug that she'd let him use, but he stopped and faced her, his eyes darkening. "I'll let you find out on your own." There was a sensual note in his voice that she felt all the way to her toes. ~ Katie Reus

A dingy emblem on the door depicted a little boy peeing into a pot. The rest of the bar was equally drab and tasteless. Dim bulbs behind red-tasseled lamp shades barely illuminated each of a dozen maroon vinyl booths, which marched along one wall toward the murky front windows. Chipped Formica tables anchored the booths in place. Opposite the row of booths was a long, scarred wooden bar with uncomfortable-looking stools. Behind the bar, sitting on glass shelves in front of a cloudy mirror, were endless rows of bottles, each looking as forlorn as the folks for whom they waited.
He caught the strong odors of liquor and tobacco smoke, and the weaker scents of cleaning chemicals and vomit. In one of the booths , two heads bobbed with the movement of mug-clenching fists. A scrawny bartender with droopy eyelids picked his teeth with a swizzle stick and chatted quietly with a woman seated at the bar. Otherwise the bar was empty. ~ Robert Liparulo