Sweetbrier Bakery Quotes

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

That's why I named my bakery Flour. It's a reminder that in baking, as in life, simple things are best. ~ Joanne Chang

Baking Zomick's challah is comforting, and breads are the sweetest little bits of comfort food. They are very bite-sized and personal. ~ Zomick's Bakery

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

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

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

That's what spies do, right? They walk to the bakery and buy a loaf of bread everyday - perfectly normal - until one day they buy a loaf of uranium instead. ~ Robin Sloan

Mom has the Touch. She knows what flowers go with what occasions, what hors d'oeuvres work with what people. She believes passionately in the power of food to heal, restore, and stimulate relationships, and she has built a following of loyal customers who really hope she's right. If she's wrong, says Sonia, no one wants to know. ~ Joan Bauer

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

I worked from 12 to 17, six years in a bakery. I was a pastry cook. ~ Adam Giles

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

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

Oh my god," I shrieked. "Who did I screw over in a former life that those douches get to go to cool cities and I have to go home to an island called Hung?" "Those douches do have hairy asses and not just on a full moon. You're the only female agent I have that looks like a model so you're going to Georgia. Period." "Fine. I'll quit. I'll open a bakery." Angela smiled and an icky feeling skittered down my spine. "Excellent, I'll let you tell the Council that all the money they invested in your training is going to be flushed down the toilet ~ Robyn Peterman

Reading for me, was like breathing. It was probably akin to masturbation for my brain. Getting off on the fantasy within the pages of a good novel felt necessary to my survival. If I wasn't asleep, knitting, or working, I was reading. This was for several reasons, all of them focused around the infititely superior and enviable lives of fictional heroines to real-life people.
Take romans for instance. Fictional women in romance novels never get their period. They never have morning breath. They orgasm seventeen times a day. And they never seem to have jobs with bosses.
These clean, well-satisfied, perm-minty-breathed women have fulfilling careers as florists, bakery owners, hair stylists or some other kind of adorable small business where they decorate all day. If they do have a boss, he's a cool guy (or gal) who's invested in the woman's love life. Or, he's a super hot billionaire trying to get in her pants.
My boss cares about two things: Am I on time ? Are all my patients alive and well at the end of my shift?
And the mend in the romance novels are too good to be true; but I love it, and I love them. Enter stage right the independently wealthy venture capitalist suffering from the ennui of perfection until a plucky interior decorator enters stage left and shakes up his life and his heart with perky catch phrases and a cute nose that wrinkles when she sneezes.
I suck at decorating. The walls of my apartment are bare. I am allergic to most sto ~ Penny Reid

Polly had a gift for baking pies, and she poured her heart and soul into every one she made. ~ Sarah Weeks

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 subject matter was a genuine sort of experience that came out of my life, particularly the American world in which I was privileged to be ... I would really think of the bakery counters, of the way the counter was lit, where the pies were placed, but I wanted just a piece of the experience. From when I worked in restaurants ... [it was] always poetic to me. ~ Wayne Thiebaud

His eyes were growing darker. They dipped to her lips. "Make any dirty cupcakes this week?"
"Yes. Two orders."
"What flavors?"
"No."
"No?"
"I don't want to tell you." She totally wanted to tell him. She wanted to watch his eyes go darker when she said the dirty words. And she wanted him to keep touching her cheek. And then touch her in other places. "You should stop."
"Probably. ~ Jamie Farrell

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

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

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

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

the bakery attack. ~ Haruki Murakami

The tantalizing scent transported me to a white, sandy beach lapped by a turquoise sea under a tropical sun. Lime and coconut were the getaway flavors my bakery customers needed in April, tax time. ~ Judith Fertig

Really?" I whispered.
He crossed his arms on his chest and stated, "Babe, you think I found the woman of my
dreams at forty-five years old and I'm gonna let anything happen to her, think again. That's a long fuckin' time to wait for what you want. I waited. I
found it. I'm pullin' out all the stops to take care of it. I know you feel the same for me so I'm doin' the same to keep me safe for you. So yeah, really, I
called Delgado. I made peace and asked a favor. His woman is in your posse so she wouldn't be doin' cartwheels, he said no and something went
down with you or, for you, me. And he isn't dumb, he's a man who knows to collect favors and he's a man
whose business means he often has the need to call markers. So his ear's to the ground and his eyes are open so if a cop isn't cruisin' by your
house or bakery, one of Lee's boys or one of Hawk's commandos are. Smart people pay attention to who's cruisin' around people they want to fuck
with and smart people will see cops, Nightingale's men and Delgado's crazy motherfuckers and, my hope is, they'll steer clear. So, there you go.
Now you got a full explanation of what I mean when I say you're on radar."
I heard all he said, I really did.
But I was stuck at the beginning part where he told me I was the woman of his dreams. ~ Kristen Ashley

Here you go, fellas. Piping hot ... right out of the oven!'
'Is
Is that what I think it is?'
'It's your favourite! Custard pie with cheese and bacon!'
'QUICHE!'
'No, comrade!! Be strong! Monsters don't eat flakey bakery products! Get a hold of yourself!'
'But comrade, I'm STARVING! Our army has no food! We haven't eaten since the ghost circles appeared!'
'Oh well! We certainly have a lot of food Here, don't we, Teach? A Lot of Food ... '
'Oh yes, A lot of food!'
'OK! I GIVE UP! YES! YES!! GIVE US THE QUICHE!! WE'RE STARVING
~ Jeff Smith

Cam placed his hand on her shoulder. "It's not too late."
A thick lump swelled in her throat. "I acted like an idiot."
"That's not a problem," he replied in a comforting tone. "He's been acting like an idiot for weeks now. ~ Stacey O'Neale

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

Once upon a time there was a boy who knew what he was going to be from the very moment he was born. As soon as he was able to talk, he told everyone, I am a builder of dreams. No one in his family had any idea what that meant, except maybe his Aunt Dorothy, who knew about dreams & how they form you into the thing you're going to be, even when you think you have other plans.

The rest of his family did things like work with numbers & fix old cars & bake bread in a bakery. When he first told them what he was going to be, they thought it was cute & then, when it didn't stop, it was something not to be mentioned at family gatherings & finally, it was something that would lead to personal suffering if he didn't start getting his head on straight, by god. So, he stopped saying it out loud, but he never forgot & when he got older, he moved away & his family told the neighbors he was working as a manager & every one nodded & was pleased that he'd finally come around to viewing life as it was & not how you wish it would be.

But he didn't really care because he was building things of air & sunlight & the laughter of children & the sharp smell of lighter fluid at a summer barbecue & the flash of color on the throat of a hummingbird & all of them were things that had no real name, but people felt them all the same. They felt them all the same... ~ Brian Andreas

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

A fake ring. A fake engagement. Fake love. Everything was fake. Shiny and put together on the outside, empty on the inside. ~ Jamie Farrell

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

Every night, it's a bakery on the bus. It's a curse, because I talk about how much I love cake, people bring me cake. And now I just found out I'm diabetic, so I'm like, are you kidding me?! ~ Gabriel Iglesias