Serendipities Bakery Quotes

Your dad wasn't just a lousy gambler. He was a disloyal sneak who spied on my grandpa at the bakery. - Sara Jane ~ T.M. Goeglein

unopened. When her son stands in the night outside her house, she goes to bed early. In the morning, she looks at his photograph, writes adoring letters to a long-defunct address. A spinster sees the face of the young man who loved her in the mirror of her bedroom, on the ceiling of the bakery, on the surface of the lake, in the sky. The ~ Alan Lightman

Aroma of fresh bread led me to a bakery where a deformed woman with no nose sold me a dozen crescent-moon pastries. Only wanted one, but thought she had enough problems. ~ David Mitchell

I reached into my bag and pulled out the macaroons, holding them between us. "Here. These are for you."
He glanced at the white bakery box, his frown even more severe than before. He didn't take the box. "What's in there?"
The look of suspicion made me smile in spite of myself. "Cookies."
"Where'd you get them?"
"I made them."
His expression cleared and he snatched the box from my hands. "You did? What kind?"
"Macaroons."
"Coconut!" He'd ripped open the box with impressive speed, his eyes widening with what looked like elation. "Come to me," he said reverently to the cookies.
"I hate coconut," Derek said conversationally, coming to stand next to me.
"She didn't bring them for you, did she?" Matt said, his head doing an unexpected, sassy bobbing movement.
I rolled my lips between my teeth, breathing through my nose while my eyes bounced between the two men.
"Maybe she will, next time." Derek grinned at me. "I like chocolate."
Matt's eyes cut to mine. "Are you making a mental note? You look like you're making a mental note. Don't. Don't make a mental note. Don't bring him cookies."
"Gentlemen." I pasted on my best professional smile. "I will be happy to bring cookies, to you both, but first I need to see what you've been working on."
"Fine. ~ Penny Reid

Life was a cake that looked good on the bakery shelf but turned to sawdust and salt when I ate it. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

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

-If birthday(BD)is full of light settings, then it will become a BRIGHT DAY.

- If BD is full of bakery items, then it is BREAD DAY.

- If you take rest in your BD all the time, then it will become BERTH DAY.

- If you do excercise/ yoga, then your BD will become BREATH DAY.

-If you spend time in hotel or tasmac, then it is BAR DAY.

- If your BD leads to expenses, then it is BEAR DAY.

-If your BD is not so active, then it is BORE DAY.

Whatever, we need to make our BIRTH DAY , a WORTH DAY. ~ -Dr Sivakumar Gowder

Why does everyone expect me to sugarcoat stuff? Do I look like a fucking bakery? I just tell it like it is, and she looks like shit. ~ Sophie Monroe

Whenever you give up an apartment in New York and move to another city, New York turns into the worst version of itself. Someone I know once wisely said that the expression "It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there" is completely wrong where New York is concerned; the opposite is true. New York is a very livable city. But when you move away and become a vistor, the city seems to turn against you. It's much more expensive (because you need to eat all your meals out and pay for a place to sleep) and much more unfriendly. Things change in New York; things change all the time. You don't mind this when you live here; when you live here, it's part of the caffeinated romance to this city that never sleeps. But when you move away, your experience change as a betrayal. You walk up Third Avenue planning to buy a brownie at a bakery you've always been loyal to, and the bakery's gone. Your dry cleaner move to Florida; your dentist retires; the lady who made the pies on West Fourth Street vanishes; the maitre d' at P.J. Clarke's quits, and you realize you're going to have to start from scratch tipping your way into the heart of the cold, chic young woman now at the down. You've turned your back from only a moment, and suddenly everything's different. You were an insider, a native, a subway traveler, a purveyor of inside tips into the good stuff, and now you're just another frequent flyer, stuck in a taxi on Grand Central Parkway as you wing in and out of La Guardia. M ~ Nora Ephron

Whenever Elliot Norther's wife was nervous she baked. With the murder of Harriet Mason, her husband's close colleague at the Faculty, she had been unable to resist a couple of Victoria sponges. During the frenzied press speculation about the identity of the murderer, a Dundee cake had appeared, followed swiftly by a Battenberg and a Lemon Drizzle. Since news of the Wildencrust murder broke, the kitchen, dining room and study had come to resemble the storerooms of an industrial bakery, every surface heaving with the weight of sponge and cream. Yesterday, having at last been overwhelmed by the fear and rumour that swept the town, she had taken herself off to her mother's house in Hampstead, leaving her husband to soldier on alone. When he had last seen his wife, Elliot Norther noticed that she had been putting the finishing touches to an impressive, triple-tiered wedding cake, beating a batch of royal icing into a sickly paste. ~ Robert Clear

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

Bennie's corner of Brooklyn looked different every time Sierra passed through it. She stopped at the corner of Washington Avenue and St. John's Place to take in the changing scenery. A half block from where she stood, she'd skinned her knee playing hopscotch while juiced up on iceys and sugar drinks. Bennie's brother, Vincent, had been killed by the cops on the adjacent corner, just a few steps from his own front door. Now her best friend's neighborhood felt like another planet. The place Sierra and Bennie used to get their hair done had turned into a fancy bakery of some kind, and yes, the coffee was good, but you couldn't get a cup for less than three dollars. Plus, every time Sierra went in, the hip, young white kid behind the counter gave her either the don't-cause-no-trouble look or the I-want-to-adopt-you look. The Takeover (as Bennie had dubbed it once) had been going on for a few years now, but tonight its pace seemed to have accelerated tenfold. Sierra couldn't find a single brown face on the block. It looked like a late-night frat party had just let out; she was getting funny stares from all sides--as if she was the out-of-place one, she thought. And then, sadly, she realized she was the out-of-place one. ~ Daniel Jose Older

As he strode through the deserted city, he thought of the New Years of his childhood, before he was ten, before the Change, when the city had still glowed with the soft, deep enchantment of sugared angels spreading their sparkling wings in bakery windows, and bells whose limpid sounds rose like the sea at a moonlit tide, and glass ornaments turning slowly this way and that on dark tree branches, gathering in their reflections the whole wondrous, promise-filled world. ~ Olga Grushin

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

One might go to the bakery, perhaps," he said. "But did you know the baker has tuberculosis? All the people here run around in a highly infectious state. The baker's daughter has tuberculosis too, it seems to have something to do with the runoff from the cellulose factory, with the steam that the locomotives have spewed out for decades, with the bad diet that people eat. Almost all of them have cankered lung lobes, pneumothorax and pneumoperitoneum are endemic. They have tuberculosis of the lungs, the head, the arms and legs. All of them have tubercular abscesses somewhere on their bodies. The valley is notorious for tuberculosis. You will find every form of it here: skin tuberculosis, brain tuberculosis, intestinal tuberculosis. Many cases of meningitis, which is deadly within hours. The workmen have tuberculosis from the dirt they dig around in, the farmers have it from their dogs and the infected milk. The majority of the people have galloping consumption. Moreover," he said, "the effect of the new drugs, of streptomycin for example, is nil. Did you know the knacker has tuberculosis? That the landlady has tuberculosis? That the landlady has tuberculosis? That her daughters have been to sanatoria on three occasions? Tuberculosis is by no means on the way out. People claim it is curable. but that's what the pharmaceutical industry says. In fact, tuberculosis is as incurable as it always was. Even people who have been inoculated against it come down with it. Often those who h ~ Thomas Bernhard

Is mind melting your power?"
"No, mostly I give orgasms." Cam wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Lots and lots of mind-blowing orgasms. ~ Stacey O'Neale

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

Sometimes I feel like I've got my nose pressed up against the window of a bakery, only I'm the bread. ~ Carrie Fisher

The Ramkins were more highly bred than a hilltop bakery, whereas Corporal Nobbs had been disqualified from the human race for shoving. ~ Terry Pratchett

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

A rush of cold air blew against his face as he left her bakery. While he walked, Kaden tried to convince himself the date wasn't a big deal, but it was. The nervous energy swirling in his stomach gave him away. He'd never been on a date. Ever. He had met his wife the day they were bonded. He wasn't even sure of the proper protocol for a human date. His brothers had one-night stands, not dates. There was no way he could ask them. They'd never let him live it down. Perhaps he could find the answer on Google?
With all he had learned since his arrival, he was confident he could figure this out. Besides, this was a date with Annabelle - the one human he had made a connection with. After everything they had been through, taking her out on a date should be easy.
What could possibly go wrong? ~ Stacey O'Neale

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

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

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

Today I realize that I'm not marrying the one I thought loved me, I'm just Morgan Lewis, the owner of a bakery, a tiny apartment in downtown Atlanta, and a 2012 Camry. Nothing special, just another person walking through town to start her day. ~ A.M. Willard

My favorite part was when my grandfather and I would make a special trip to Firpo's Bakery for red and green Christmas cookies and fruitcake studded with the sweetest cherries I've ever tasted. Usually Firpo's was too expensive for our slim budget, but Christmas mornings they gave a discount to any children who came in. ~ Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

My uncle Alex Vonnegut, a Harvard-educated life insurance salesman who lived at 5033 North Pennsylvania Street, taught me something very important.
He said that when things were really going well we should be sure to NOTICE it. He was talking about simple occasions, not great victories: maybe drinking lemonade on a hot afternoon in the shade, or smelling the aroma of a nearby bakery; or fishing, and not caring if we catch anything or not, or hearing somebody all alone playing a piano really well in the house next door.
Uncle Alex urged me to say this out loud during such epiphanies: If this isn't nice, what is? ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Perhaps I will have a bakery someday named Dominika's, she thought. Idiot you don't know how to bake. ~ Jason Matthews

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

On my honor, I ain't ever tasting another woman's sexual
favors. Even if the bakery offers 'em up in a cupcake wrapper and
calls 'em whipped dreams. ~ Jamie Farrell

There was a table laid with jellies and trifles, with a party hat beside each place, and a birthday cake with seven candles on it in the center of the table. The cake had a book drawn on it, in icing. My mother, who had organized the party, told me that the lady at the bakery said that they had never put a book on a birthday cake before, and that mostly for boys it was footballs or spaceships. I was their first book. ~ Neil Gaiman

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

What are you doing back at the bakery?" I asked [Diesel]. "Did you know Wulf was here?" "No. I knew food was here. ~ Janet Evanovich

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

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

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

Would I be as strong as that once I did that thing Christophe was talking about? Blooming? Would I smell like a bakery item? Or was that just him? Did he use pie filling for cologne? ~ Lilith Saintcrow