|
6a4d04c
|
Black as night, sweet as sin.
|
|
coffee
boys
|
Neil Gaiman |
|
f8ccef0
|
Who shall I shoot? You choose. Now, listen very carefully: where's your coffee? You've got coffee, haven't you? C'mon, everyone's got coffee! Spill the beans!
|
|
humor
coffee
|
Terry Pratchett |
|
6c09794
|
The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.
|
|
seasons
winter
poets
poetry
writing
apple
april
auden
byron
de-la-mare
insomnia
longfellow
may
morris
nocturnal
season
september
shelley
spender
tennyson
pope
apples
coffee
spring
wordsworth
milton
fall
hart-crane
autumn
tea
keats
night
writers
burns
schiller
|
Helen Bevington |
|
1130d27
|
"It's mechanical," Leo said. "Maybe a doorway to the dwarfs' secret lair?" "Ooooo!" shrieked a nearby voice. "Secret lair?" "I want a secret lair!" yelled another voice from above. ... "If we had a secret lair," said Red Fur, "I would want a firehouse pole." "And a waterslide!" said Brown Fur, who was pulling random tools out of Leo's belt, tossing aside wrenches, hammers, and staple guns. "Stop that!" Leo tried to grab the dwarf's feet, but he couldn't reach the top of the pedestal. "Too short?" Brown Fur sympathized. "You're calling short?" Leo looked around for something to throw, but there was nothing but pigeons, and he doubted he could catch one. "Give me my belt, you stupid-" "Now, now!" said Brown Fur. "We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Akmon, and my brother over there-" "-is the handsome one!" The red-furred dwarf lifted his espresso. Judging from his dilated eyes and maniacal grin, he didn't need any more caffeine. "Passolos! Singer of songs! Drinker of coffee! Stealer of shiny stuff!"
|
|
balogna
espresso
passolos
secret-lair
shiny-stuff
riordan
the-house-of-hades
dwarfs
coffee
rick-riordan
the-heroes-of-olympus
leo-valdez
|
Rick Riordan |
|
7a60ba9
|
"I brought you some coffee." he held out the cup but she waved it away. "I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet." At that he smiled. "How would you know what feet taste like?" "I just know." -Luke and Clary, pg.209-"
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|
funny
food-critics
coffee
luke
|
Cassandra Clare |
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4be883f
|
I sipped my own coffee, heavy on the sugar and cream, trying to make up for the late work the night before. Caffeine and sugar, the two basic food groups.
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|
cerulean-sins
sugar
coffee
|
Laurell K. Hamilton |
|
e445929
|
The challenge lies in knowing how to bring this sort of day to a close. His mind has been wound to a pitch of concentration by the interactions of the office. Now there are only silence and the flashing of the unset clock on the microwave. He feels as if he had been playing a computer game which remorselessly tested his reflexes, only to have its plug suddenly pulled from the wall. He is impatient and restless, but simultaneously exhausted and fragile. He is in no state to engage with anything significant. It is of course impossible to read, for a sincere book would demand not only time, but also a clear emotional lawn around the text in which associations and anxieties could emerge and be disentangled. He will perhaps only ever do one thing well in his life. For this particular combination of tiredness and nervous energy, the sole workable solution is wine. Office civilisation could not be feasible without the hard take-offs and landings effected by coffee and alcohol.
|
|
work
nervous-energy
relaxation
coffee
exhaustion
|
Alain de Botton |
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5ab42bf
|
"Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn't look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me--little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again.
|
|
lovely
madness
lovers
new-day
gratitude
drinking
joy
inspiration
sadness
music
songs
happiness
hope
be-okay
fine
panic-attacks
park
starving
panic-attack
chest
sound
ed
okay
self-destruction
wellness
grateful
hopeful
anxiety
alcohol
coffee
spring
well-being
art
singing
hurt
balance
sky
flowers
crying
focus
panic
sing
tears
walking
hopeless
recovery
sad
self-harm
smoking
mental-health
|
Charlotte Eriksson |
|
5b936cc
|
Put the coffee on, bubbles, I'm coming home
|
|
coffee
home
|
Richard Brautigan |
|
646cfda
|
...he quit drinking coffee, and naturally, his brain stopped working.
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|
humor
coffee
thinking
|
Orhan Pamuk |
|
a91fb25
|
I should've suspected trouble when the coffee failed to arrive.
|
|
coffee
tactics
|
Frank Herbert |
|
30dcab0
|
Chris, soap people are like us-they seldom go outdoors. And when they do, we only hear about it, never see it. They loll about in living rooms, bedrooms, sit in the kitchens and sip coffee or stand up and drink martinis-but never, never go outside before our eyes. And whenever something good happens, whenever they think they're finally going to be happy, some catastrophe comes along to dash their hopes.
|
|
hopes
happiness
hope
loll
sitting
catastrophes
indoors
outdoors
coffee
outside
|
V.C. Andrews |
|
484e1d6
|
The Arabs understandably did everything they could to protect their monopoly. Coffee beans were treated before being shipped to ensure they were sterile and could not be used to seed new coffee plants; foreigners were excluded from coffee-producing areas. First to break the Arab monopoly were the Dutch, who displaced the Portuguese as the dominant European nation in the East Indies during the seventeenth century, gaining control of the spice trade in the process and briefly becoming the world's leading commercial power.
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|
east-indies
portuguese
monopoly
coffee
|
Tom Standage |
|
a50f21c
|
"Her gaze wavered towards one of the books on the sales counter beside the register, a hardcover copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet with many of the pages dog-eared and stained with coffee and tea. The store owner caught her looking at it and slid it across the counter towards her. "You ever read Hamlet?" he questioned. "I tried to when I was in high school," said Mandy, picking up the book and flipping it over to read the back. "I mean, it's expected that everyone should like Shakespeare's books and plays, but I just...." her words faltered when she noticed him laughing to himself. "What's so funny, Sir?" she added, slightly offended. "...Oh, I'm not laughing at you, just with you," said the store owner. "Most people who say they love Shakespeare only pretend to love his work. You're honest Ma'am, that's all. You see, the reason you and so many others are put-off by reading Shakespeare is because reading his words on paper, and seeing his words in action, in a play as they were meant to be seen, are two separate things... and if you can find a way to relate his plays to yourself, you'll enjoy them so much more because you'll feel connected to them. Take Hamlet for example - Hamlet himself is grieving over a loss in his life, and everyone is telling him to move on but no matter how hard he tries to, in the end all he can do is to get even with the ones who betrayed him." "...Wow, when you put it that way... sure, I think I'll buy a copy just to try reading, why not?" Mandy replied with a smile."
|
|
revenge
shakespeare
grief
loss
reading
diffcult
dog-eared
bookstore
coffee
tea
geek
nerd
hamlet
classic
|
Rebecca McNutt |
|
45a82bb
|
New Rule: Gun-control people have to stop pressuring Starbucks to ban guns. I want my gun nuts overcaffeinated, twitchy, and accident-prone. That way, the problem will take care of itself. Plus, if just one gun nut kills just one pseudo-intellectual writing a screenplay-slash-graphic-novel on his iPad, natural selection is doing its job.
|
|
humor
gun-control
coffee
guns
|
Bill Maher |
|
b5c1478
|
Nick drank the coffee, the coffee according to Hopkins. The coffee was bitter. Nick laughed. It made a good ending to the story. His mind was starting to work. He knew he could choke it because he was tired enough. He spilled the coffee out of the pot and shook the grounds loose into the fire. He lit a cigarette and went inside the tent. He took off his shoes and trousers, sitting on the blankets, rolled the shoes up inside the trousers for a pillow and got in between the blankets. Out through the front of the tent he watched the glow of the fire when the night wind blew on it. It was a quiet night. The swamp was perfectly quiet. Nick stretched under the blanket comfortably. A mosquito hummed close to his ear. Nick sat up and lit a match. The mosquito was on the canvas, over his head. Nick moved the match quickly up to it. The mosquito made a satisfactory hiss in the flame. The match went out. Nick lay down again under the blankets. He turned on his side and shut his eyes. He was sleepy. He felt sleep coming. He curled up under the blanket and went to sleep.
|
|
sleep
coffee
bliss
|
Ernest Hemingway |
|
bc62f10
|
I alight at Esplanade in a smell of roasting coffee and creosote and walk up Royal Street. The lower Quarter is the best part. The ironwork on the balconies sags like rotten lace. Little French cottages hide behind high walls. Through deep sweating carriageways one catches glimpses of courtyards gone to jungle.
|
|
carriageways
cottages
courtyards
creosote
ironwork
royal-street
coffee
|
Walker Percy |
|
ed2a450
|
Coffeehouses were centers of self-education, literary and philosophical speculation, commercial innovation, and, in some cases, political fermentation. But above all they were clearinghouses for news and gossip, linked by the circulation of customers, publications, and information from one establishment to the next. Collectively, Europe's coffeehouses functioned as the Internet of the Age of Reason.
|
|
coffee-house
coffee
|
Tom Standage |
|
ece7473
|
And waking, once again, face smudged into Andrea's couch, the red quilt humped around her shoulders, smelling coffee, while Andrea hummed some Tokyo pop song to herself in the next room, dressing, in a gray morning of Paris rain.
|
|
coffee
marly-krushkova
|
William Gibson |
|
792310b
|
Descendants of de Clieu's original plant were also proliferating in the region, in Haiti, Cuba, Costa Rica, and Venezuela. Ultimately, Brazil became the world's dominant coffee supplier, leaving Arabia far behind.
|
|
gabriel-mathieu-de-clieu
coffee
|
Tom Standage |
|
8ea11e0
|
What I want is Ceres Station or Earth or Mars. You know what they have in New York? All-night diners with greasy food and crap coffee. I want to live on a world with all-night diners. And racetracks. And instant-delivery Thai food made from something I haven't already eaten seven times in the last month.
|
|
crap-coffee
greasy-food
racetracks
thai-food
coffee
new-york
|
James S.A. Corey |
|
f5c8b6f
|
"She lifted the cup to her lips. "You make good coffee." "You haven't tasted it yet." "I can smell it. And I love the way it smells." It's not the coffee, he thought. Not all of it, at any rate. "Well, I love your perfume," he said, because he was a dolt. She frowned. "I'm not wearing any. I mean, other than the soap and shampoo I use." "Well, I like them, then. And I'm glad you stayed." "Is this what you planned?" Their eyes met. Shit, she was perfect. Radiant as the candles had been. "You making it all the way to the coffee? Yeah, I guess a date was what I was after." "I thought you agreed with me." Man, that breathless quality in her voice made him want to have her up against his naked chest. "Agreed with you?" he said. "Hell, if it would make you happy, I'd say yes to anything. But what are you specifically referring to?" "You said...I shouldn't date anyone." Ah, right. "You shouldn't." "I don't understand." Fuck him, but he went for it. Rehv put his numb elbow on the table and leaned into her. As he closed the distance, her eyes got wider, but she didn't pull back. He paused, to give her a chance to tell him to cut the shit. Why? He had no clue. His side was into pauses only for analysis or to better capitalize on a weakness. But she made him want to be decent. Ehlena didn't tell him to step off, however. "I don't...understand," she whispered. "It's simple. I don't think you should date anyone." Rehv moved in even closer, until he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "But I'm not just anyone." -Ehlena & Rehv"
|
|
not-just-anyone
date
coffee
|
J.R. Ward |
|
be5450a
|
I can't deal with angry people until after I've had my morning coffee.
|
|
humor
magnus-martinsson
wallander
henning-mankell
coffee
|
Henning Mankell |
|
cf1a107
|
"Tony and Peg have two kids, Terry-Lynn and Harvey, both of whom are enrolled in so many extracurricular and afterschool clubs that they hardly ever see their parents. If Terry-Lynn is in Girl Guides, she doesn't have to see Peg inviting the Purolator man in for "a cup of coffee". If Harvey is in the anime drawing club, he doesn't have to see Peg kissing Mr. Cooper from across the street, even if all the other neighbours secretly know what's going on. Tony has no idea, all he knows is that Peg isn't the same Peg he married back in 2003. All he knows is that she's changed a great deal, and not for the better, like a beautiful butterfly regressing back into a devouring, ugly caterpillar in the span of only a couple of months."
|
|
kids
marriage
kiss
change
afterschool
butterfly
cheater
extracurricular-activities
girl-scouts
homewrecker
neighbours
purolator
caterpillar
anime
drawing
street
coffee
parents
beautiful
children
ugly
|
Rebecca McNutt |
|
031ec94
|
"Your fancy alien train is broken?" "My fancy alien material transfer system has been sitting unused for over a billion years and half the planet just exploded. Your ship was built less than a decade ago and you can barely keep the coffee pot running." "You are a sad, bitter little man."
|
|
coffee-pot
spaceship
coffee
train
technology
|
James S.A. Corey |