Strawberries For Breakfast Quotes

The days were sunny, the nights were star-studded. Indeed married life was strawberries for breakfast and loving all the time. ~ Marabel Morgan

I eat fog for breakfast, and I shit out steamy love scenes from the 80s. ~ Jarod Kintz

You're right, but it's never too late for breakfast. ~ Anonymous

Halt?" said Gilan, realization dawning. "You're not seasick are you?"
No," Halt said shortly, not trusting himself beyond one syllable.
Probably need a bite if breakfast to settle your stomach," Svengal said helpfully. "Gte something solid inside you."
Had ... breakfast." This time Halt managed three syllables-but with some difficulty, Svengal affected no notice.
Cabbage is god. Especially pickled cabbage. Sits on the gut nicely," he said. "Goes well with a nice piece of greasy bacon. You should try that if you ... "
But before he could finish, Halt lurched toward the ship's rail and hung over it. Dreaful noises were torn from him. Svengal, still affecting a look of innocence, turned to Gilan, hands spread and eyes wide.
What it the world is he looking for? Has he lost something, do you think? ~ John Flanagan

Come on, Paisley. What's the worst that could happen?"
Aria meant it as a joke,but her voice sounded too high so she tacked on a laugh. That came out sounding mildly hysterical.
"What could happen in a damaged dome?"
Paisley counted on her slender fingers. "Our skin could rot off. We could get locked out. An Aether storm could turn us into human bacon. Then the cannibals could eat us for breakfast. ~ Veronica Rossi

Breakfast time," he said eventually, casually - to prove, I'm sure, that he remembered all my human
frailties.
So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face.
"Kidding!" I snickered. "And you said I couldn't act!"
He frowned in disgust. "That wasn't funny."
"It was very funny, and you know it." But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was
forgiven. Apparently, I was.
"Shall I rephrase?" he asked. "Breakfast time for the human. ~ Stephenie Meyer

In Nepal, the phenomenon is reversed. Time is a stick of incense that burns without being consumed. One day can seem like a week; a week, like months. Mornings stretch out and crack their spines with the yogic impassivity of house cats. Afternoons bulge with a succulent ripeness, like fat peaches. There is time enough to do everything - write a letter, eat breakfast, read the paper, visit a shrine or two, listen to the birds, bicycle downtown to change money, buy postcards, shop for Buddhas - and arrive home in time for lunch. ~ Jeff Greenwald

Just as Americans have discovered the hidden energy costs in a multitude of products-in refrigerating a steak, for example, on its way to the butcher-they are about to discover the hidden water costs. Beginning with the water that irrigated the corn that was fed to the steer, the steak may have accounted for 3,500 gallons. The water that goes into a 1,000-pound steer would float a destroyer. It takes 14,935 gallons of water to grow a bushel of wheat, 60,000 gallons to produce a ton of steel, 120 gallons to put a single egg on the breakfast table. ~ Jerry Adler

I have two bowls of confidence for breakfast each morning. ~ Eric Bristow

A pretty face had been damaged by acne scars and she wore and extra forty pounds on her frame like a threat. Her eyes were dull with anger disguised as apathy. If she kept on her current path, she'd grow into the type of person who fed her kids Doritos for breakfast and purchased angry bumper stickers with lots of exclamation points. But right now, she was just another in a long line of pissed-off small-town girls with a shitty outlook. ~ Dennis Lehane

And where are you going?" His voice was playfully challenging.
"To get some breakfast," she said without stopping.
He leered. "I've got something for you to eat," he called after her.
"I might bite it off, though," she said over her shoulder. ~ Ken Follett

Oh fuck, he was right there. I was wet as hell and he could probably smell me now. I should have eaten strawberries or melon or a dozen roses or an entire mint plant. Did that work for women? I read an article that it worked for men. Their spunk tasted like what they ate. Did my vagina taste like spaghetti right now? God dammit! I shouldn't have eaten dinner! ~ Tara Sivec

He opted for a flaky, apricot-filled croissant and Columbian coffee. Dani chided him for being unimaginative, then proceeded to eat most of his, while ignoring her own.
"I'd be glad to buy you one."
Dani gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare, then popped the last bit of his breakfast into her mouth.
"I couldn't eat another bite. ~ Mary J. Williams

You can't have integrity for breakfast, but try and keep it because it is perhaps the single most important word that defines not just writers but all human beings. ~ F. Sionil Jose

The old woman is talking to herself. In between speaking to us, she's saying things like, A finger for breakfast, a hand for lunch, an ear for dinner, munch, munch, munch! ~ David Estes

It was the excitement, the richness of the whole experience, the mixture of pleasure and danger and freedom and the sun. You know, when we came back here, for a long while I still went on living in Euphoria inside my head. Outwardly I returned to my old routine. I got up in the morning, put on a tweed suit, read the Guardian over breakfast, walked into the University, gave the same old tutorials on the same old texts... and all the while I was leading a completely different life inside my head. Inside my head, I had decided not to come back to England, so I was waking up in Plotinus, sitting in the sun in my happi-coat, looking out over the Bay, putting on Levis and a sports shirt, reading the Euphoric Times over breakfast, and wondering what would happen today, would there be a protest, a demonstration, would my class have to fight their way through teargas and picket lines or should we meet off-campus in somebody's apartment, sitting on the floor surrounded by posters and leaflets and paperbacks about encounter groups and avant garde theatre and Viet Nam. ~ David Lodge

You could be the most perfect woman on the Lord's green earth - you're capable of interesting conversation, you cook a mean breakfast, you hand out backrubs like sandwiches, you're independent (which means, to him, that you're not going to be in his pockets) - but if he's not ready for a serious relationship, he's going to treat you like a sports fish. ~ Steve Harvey

Acting is the best job in the world. Look at the way they treat you when you turn up for work. They give you breakfast and a cup of tea and ask, 'Are you all right' They tart up your face, you say somebody else's words, then pick up your check and go home. And you get days off. I tell you, it really is the way to live. ~ Bob Hoskins

Involved. At least that was the right word, Alsana reflected, as she liftes her foot off the pedal, and let the wheel spin a few times alone before coming to a squeaky halt. Sometimes, here in England, especially at bus-stops and on the daytime soaps, you heard people say "We're involved with each other," as if this were a most wonderful state to be in, as if one chose it and enjoyed it. Alsana never thought of it that way. Involved happened over a long period of time, pulling you in like quicksand. Involved is what befell the moon-faced Alsana Begum and the handsome Samad Miah one week after they'd been pushed into a Delhi breakfast room together and informed they were to marry. Involved was the result when Clara Bowden met Archie Jones at the bottom of some stairs. Involved swallowed up a girl called Ambrosia and a boy called Charlie (yes, Clara had told her that sorry tale) the second they kissed in the larder of a guest house. Involved is neither good, nor bad. It is just a consequence of living, a consequence of occupation and immigration, of empires and expansion, of living in each other's pockets… one becomes involved and it is a long trek back to being uninvolved. And the woman was right, one didn't do it for one's health. Nothing this late in the century was done with health in mind. Alsana was no dummy when it came to the Modern Condition. She watched the talk shows, all day long she watched the talk shows - My wife slept with my brother, My mother won't stay out ~ Zadie Smith

In that distant beginning season, Sun Man's warm magic flowed over all the land. Whenever he raised his arms, it was day. whenever he lowered them, it was night. The Bee People and the Elephant People and the Tic People loved the rhythm of Sun Man's light. Their faces crinkled with pleasure in his heat.

But inside the dreamtime, Sun Man grew old. His back grew stiff and his knee joints ached. He rose later and later each morning. He napped soon after breakfast and went to bed in the afternoon.

"What's going on here?" complained Grandfather Mantis. "I'm not getting heat anymore." Grandfather Mantis sent the Bird People to find out. The Bird People returned, rumpled and solemn. Darkness was everywhere, even though it was supposed to be daytime. "Sun Man is getting old," they explained. "This shining all the time is getting too much for him."

"Well, I'm old," snapped Grandfather Mantis. "Doesn't stop me."

His wife raised her eyebrows but said nothing. ~ Carolyn McVickar Edwards

Less than a year ago, my life had been so simple. I had a nice little freelance design business going. I was marrying a man I thought I loved. And then --poof. Ghosts in my kitchen and ramen for breakfast. ~ Angie Fox

The menu is spectacular. Passed hors d'oeuvres include caramelized shallot tartlets topped with Gorgonzola, cubes of crispy pork belly skewered with fresh fig, espresso cups of chilled corn soup topped with spicy popcorn, mini arepas filled with rare skirt steak and chimichurri and pickle onions, and prawn dumplings with a mango serrano salsa. There is a raw bar set up with three kinds of oysters, and a raclette station where we have a whole wheel of the nutty cheese being melted to order, with baby potatoes, chunks of garlic sausage, spears of fresh fennel, lightly pickled Brussels sprouts, and hunks of sourdough bread to pour it over. When we head up for dinner, we will start with a classic Dover sole amandine with a featherlight spinach flan, followed by a choice of seared veal chops or duck breast, both served with creamy polenta, roasted mushrooms, and lacinato kale. Next is a light salad of butter lettuce with a sharp lemon Dijon vinaigrette, then a cheese course with each table receiving a platter of five cheeses with dried fruits and nuts and three kinds of bread, followed by the panna cottas. Then the cake, and coffee and sweets. And at midnight, chorizo tamales served with scrambled eggs, waffle sticks with chicken fingers and spicy maple butter, candied bacon strips, sausage biscuit sandwiches, and vanilla Greek yogurt parfaits with granola and berries on the "breakfast" buffet, plus cheeseburger sliders, mini Chicago hot dogs, little Chinese take-out containers of ~ Stacey Ballis

If I'm in a state about a book, I'll get up at 6 A.M. and write before breakfast, but usually I'll start afterwards and then work a full day with a break for lunch. ~ Claire Tomalin

The Heron

Every morning at dawn the heron comes winging across the woods to rob my lake of its trout. It is not a very large lake, and there are not very many trout; soon there will be none at all if the heron continues to breakfast in this fashion. I would not grudge him a reasonable meal occasionally, but he is an indiscriminate and extravagant fisherman who pulls out trout too large for him to swallow and strews them mangled on the bank. The good fisherman, the honest angler, returns his smaller catch to the water; the heron acts contrariwise, failing to return those which are too big to be of any use to him. The other day he was seen struggling with one half way down his throat; and in spite of my liking for herons, especially when they frequent other people's lakes and streams, I confess I wish it had choked him. ~ Vita Sackville-West

You spoke to strangers for hours. Afterward you walked the streets in search of other cafes, but they were closed. You stretched out on the park benches of a square near the Gare Saint-Lazare, and you remarked on the shape of the clouds. At six o'clock you had breakfast. At seven you took the first train home. When, the next day, your friends repeated to you the words you had spoken to strangers in the cafe, you remembered nothing of them. It was as though someone else inside you had spoken. You recognized neither your words, nor your thoughts, but you liked them better than you would have if you had remembered saying them. Often all it took was for someone else to speak your own words back to you for you to like them. ~ Edouard Leve

It's the opening line of a football game returned for a touchdown. Or fumbled.

It's what orange juice is to breakfast, the first minutes of a blind date, a salesman's opening remarks.

It sets the tone, lights the stage, greases the skids for everything to follow.

It's the most important part of everything you'll ever write because if it doesn't work, whatever follows won't matter. It won't get read.

It's your opening paragraph. And enough can't be said about its importance.

Seduction. That's basically what leads are all about--enticing the reader across the threshold of your book, novel or article--because nothing happens until you get 'em inside.

And you literally have only seconds to do it because surveys show that eight out of ten people quit reading whatever it is they've started after the first fifty words. ~ Lionel Fisher

I had a cigarette for breakfast, just for beginners,
Cried for my lunch, and sleep for dinner. ~ G. Dep

Now how about waffles for breakfast? Or is too late for breakfast?"
Mitch rested back in his chair. "Maybe too late for breakfast, but it's never too late for waffles. ~ Shelly Laurenston

Yep. We're his Lieutenants," Day answered, picking up the largest coffee cup Furi had ever seen and taking a huge gulp. "You guys had a trying evening last night, so we thought we'd check in on you."

Syn just nodded. "Hmm. Right."

"Nice bandage." God peeked around his paper again angling his head at Syn's hand. "Nothing broken?"

Syn looked at his hand. "Furi wrapped it up for me last night. Just a little torn skin, it's nothing really."

"He tried to be all tough but I had to blow on it to make it feel better." Furi's teasing had Syn smiling.

"Glad you're okay, Syn." Day winked mischievously.

Furi looked at Syn. "You just don't realize how awesome it is to have such great bosses. Came to check up on you, considerate enough to bring you breakfast, I mean just all around awesome guys."

"Just wait for it, Furi," Syn cut him off.

"What?" Furi's brow creased in confusion.

"All the warm compliments you're giving God and Day ... just wait for it."

Furi looked confused. "I don't know what you're–"

"What else did you have to blow on to make feel better?" Day said around a snort. "Really hate to have missed that show, spanky." Day smiled broadly at Furi.


Furi groaned and dropped his head as he ran both hands through his hair. "You guys watched my videos."

"Hell yeah." Day grinned.

"For evidence and research purposes only," God ch ~ A.E. Via

Characters simply come and find me. They sit down, I offer them a coffee. They tell me their story and then they almost always leave. When a character, after drinking some coffee and briefly telling her story, wants dinner and then a place to sleep and then breakfast and so on, for me the time has come to write the novel. ~ Dacia Maraini

He slept once again in the small tent by his side, even though he thought Temeraire was well over his distress, and was rewarded in the morning by being woken early, Temeraire peering into the tent with one great eye and inquiring if perhaps Laurence would like to go to Dover and arrange for the concert today.
"I would like to sleep until a civilized hour, but as that is evidently not to be, perhaps I will ask leave of Lenton to go," Laurence said, yawning as he crawled from the tent. "May I have my breakfast first?"
"Oh, certainly," Temeraire said, with an air of generosity. ~ Naomi Novik

During the next week, everyone noticed that my appetite had improved, even Toddy.

"Are you done with your hunger strike?" he asked me curiously, one morning.
"Toddy, eat your breakfast."
"But I thought that was what it was called. When people don't eat."
"No, a hunger strike is for people in prison," Kitsey said coolly.
"Kitten," said Mr. Barbour, in a warning tone.
"Yes, but he ate three waffles yesterday," said Toddy, looking eagerly between his uninterested parents in an attempt to engage them. "I only ate two waffles. And this morning he ate a bowl of cereal and six pieces of bacon, but you said five pieces of bacon was too much for me. Why can't I have five pieces, too? ~ Donna Tartt

It's a curious thing with George. With his glasses off, his eyes looked small and weak - blinky and a bit baffled, like an unintelligent sheep that's taken a wrong turn. But when he put them on again, they went all sharp and steely, more like the eyes of an eagle that eats dumb sheep for breakfast. ~ Jonathan Stroud

If you will study the history of Christ's ministry from Baptism to Ascension, you will discover that it is mostly made up of little words, little deeds, little prayers, little sympathies, adding themselves together in unwearied succession. The Gospel is full of divine attempts to help and heal, in the body, mind and heart, individual men. The completed beauty of Christ's life is only the added beauty of little inconspicuous acts of beauty -- talking with the woman at the well; going far up into the North country to talk with the Syrophenician woman; showing the young ruler the stealthy ambition laid away in his heart, that kept him out of the kingdom of Heaven; shedding a tear at the grave of Lazarus; teaching a little knot of followers how to pray; preaching the Gospel one Sunday afternoon to two disciples going out to Emmaus; kindling a fire and broiling fish, that His disciples might have a breakfast waiting for them when they came ashore after a night of fishing, cold, tired, discouraged. All of these things, you see, let us in so easily into the real quality and tone of God's interests, so specific, so narrowed down, so enlisted in what is small, so engrossed in what is minute. ~ Charles Henry Parkhurst

First morning, I steal white coffee cup from table. Second morning, I steal glass. So now in my room I can having tea or water. After breakfast I steal breads and boiled eggs for lunch, so I don't spending extra money on food. I even saving bacons for supper. So I saving bit money from my parents and using for cinema or buying books.

Ill–legal. I know. Only in this country three days and I already become thief. I never steal piece of paper in own country. Now I studying hard on English, soon I stealing their language too. ~ Xiaolu Guo

A basket of freshly baked pastries like scones make breakfast easy for your host the next day. ~ Clinton Kelly

According to a new poll, Republicans are more likely to have a doughnut for breakfast, while Democrats prefer to eat bagels and croissants. While Independents are that annoying friend who's still looking at the menu after 15 minutes. ~ Jimmy Fallon

Extremely ripe things are not ideal for pickling. If you pour a hot liquid over super ripe strawberries, you're going to have strawberry soup. ~ Wylie Dufresne

In the end you should probably know your characters as well as you know yourself. Not only what they had for breakfast this morning, but what they wanted to have for breakfast. ~ Colum McCann

In fact, I didn't like traveling first class at all. Yes, it was nice to have a bathroom in a hotel and fine service at breakfast...but none of it seemed foreign enough for me. It was all so pleasantly bland that I felt as if I were back on the SS America. I don't like it when everyone speaks perfect English; I'd much rather struggle with my phrasebook. ~ Julia Child

The perfect Sunday morning is the family at home, staying in pajamas for half the day and eating a late breakfast. ~ Christine Taylor

Brunch, for me, is an extended breakfast that should be enjoyed whenever you have time properly to engage in cooking and eating. ~ Yotam Ottolenghi

Spring is super in the supermarkets
and the strawberries prance and glow
never mind that they're all kinda tart and tasteless
as strawberries go
meanwhile wild things are not for sale
anymore than they are for show
so i'll be outside, in love with the kind of beauty
it takes more than eyes to know ~ Ani DiFranco

Torrens kicked at the door until it was finally opened. The farm couple and three youngsters had been eating breakfast in the common room. The yard dog would have bounded in had not Torrens kicked the door shut.

'I want a bed. Quilts. A hot drink. I am a doctor. This woman is my patient.'

The farm couple was terrified. The look on the face of Torrens cut short any questions. They did as he ordered. One of the children ran to fetch his medical kit from the cart. The woman motioned for Torrens to set Caroline on a straw pallet. The farmer kept his distance, but his wife, shyly, fearffully, ventured closer. She glanced at Torrens, as if requesting his permission to help. Between them, they made Caroline as comfortable as they could.

Torrens knelt by the pallet. Caroline reached for his hand. 'Leave while you can. Do not burden yourself with me.'

'A light burden.'

'I wish you to find Augusta.'

'You have my promise.'

'Take this.' Caroline had slipped off a gold ring set with diamonds. 'It was a wedding gift from the king. It has not left my finger since then. I give it to you now - ' Torrens protested, but Caroline went on - 'not as a keepsake. You and I have better keepsakes in our hearts. I wish you to sell it. You will need money, perhaps even more than this will bring. But you must stary alive and find my child. Help her as you have always helped me.'

'We shall talk of this later, when you ~ Lloyd Alexander

Matt hit the floor with a wheeze, and then it was Ty's turn to be smug. "Gotcha."

Hell, no. They'd been at it for thirty minutes, and Matt was exhausted to the bone, but the last one down had to buy breakfast. Kicking out, he knocked Ty's feet from beneath him. Then it was Ty's turn to land with a satisfying thud.

"Jesus," Josh muttered from the weight bench.

Josh was also a good friend, but he didn't know much about having fun. He was a doctor, which left his taste for occasional recreational violence greatly diminished.

"You keep going at each other like that," Josh said, "and you'll end up in my ER."

Breathless, Matt rolled to his back. "Sorry, I only play doctor with the ladies. ~ Jill Shalvis

Snow pressed herself against the cool wall to make sure he didn't see her. When he was out of sight, she peeked again to look at the guard. He was young and very thin. Not much older than she. And he had a family he was feeding on meals that weren't arriving. She looked down at the warm bread and fruit on her breakfast tray.
Her belly was still full from the night before. She could make it until dinner without anything more. Looking both ways to make sure the hall was clear before stepping out of the shadows, Snow walked swiftly toward the guard, her eyes cast downward. The guard looked surprised when she placed her tray at his feet.
"Your Highness," he said, struggling for words. "But that's your meal."
Snow was too shy to speak. Instead, she waved the food away and pushed the tray closer to his boots. With a small nod and smile, she hurried back to the safety of her chambers before anyone could see them conversing and tell the queen, but not before she heard him speak softly.
"Thank you, kind princess. Thank you. ~ Jen Calonita