Breakfast And Love Quotes & Sayings

They're kids Apollo. Young kids. And they don't need to know their father has a bed partner."
"I won't exactly be sharing our play second for second at the breakfast table, Madeleine," he stated, his voice turning cold . "But to share your bed with a woman you care about is not something to be ashamed of."
"No, of course not, but - "
"And I'll not communicate that by hiding who you are to me."
That was nice, so nice.
But that didn't mean he wasn't moving too fast.
"That's sweet, honey, but - "
"And I'll not have it communicated to my children ... in any way ... that the act of love between two agreeable adults is something to hide because it's shameful. — Kristen Ashley

I don't have a huge breakfast, and I sometimes forget to have lunch, so I focus on dinner. I love Thai and Japanese food. — Saffron Aldridge

There is a wonderful simple human reality to Christ's hunger. The man is famished. He's missed meals for three days, He has a lot on his mind, He's on His way back to heaven, but before He goes He is itching for a nice piece of broiled fish and a little bread on the side with the men and women He loves. Do we not like Him the more for His prandial persistance? And think for a moment about the holiness of our own food, and the ways that cooking and sharing a meal can be forms of love and prayer. And realize again that the Eucharist at the heart of stubborn Catholicism is the breakfast that Christ prepares for Catholics, every morning, as we return from fishing in vast dreamy seas? — Brian Doyle

Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night's sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn't hear her husband's ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren's will be. But we learn to live in that love. — Jonathan Safran Foer

I love breakfast - I like going to sleep at night because I know I get to wake up and eat in the morning. — Charles Michael Davis

I can eat you at breakfast, not because I am a monster; it is only because you are too cute and yummy. — M.F. Moonzajer

I haven't any formal schedule, but I love to write in the morning, before breakfast. Sometimes the writing goes so smoothly that I don't take a break for many hours - and consequently have breakfast at two or three in the afternoon on good days. — Joyce Carol Oates

I love breakfast, and I don't see any reason it has to be cereal and eggs and toast. — Ruth Reichl

I turn to face him. "Listen, I'm grateful you're going to help me train now-really, I am. Thank you for that. But you can't go around proclaiming your fake love for me-especially not in front of Adam-and you have to let me cross this room before the breakfast hour is over, okay? I hardly ever get to see him."
Kenji nods very slowly, looks a little solemn. You're right. I'm sorry. I get it."
"Thank you."
"Adam is jealous of our love."
"Just go get your food!" I push him, hard, fighting back an exasperated laugh. — Tahereh Mafi

If you haven't said 'I love you' to someone today, do it. You won't always be happy, but you should try to be. Don't be too afraid of germs. Those people have no fun. Remember to look around sometimes. You might see something you haven't seen before or at the very least avoid being hit by a flying object. Speaking of flying objects, don't spend your life looking for extraterrestrial life, unless you work for NASA. Remember that you always have to cooperate with someone. Life is an endless negotiation. Play fair. Stay out of jail. Don't live in the past. Eat breakfast. It really is the most important meal of the day. Try to make new friends, even when you think you're too old to do that ... And finally, remember this 'Yes' is always a better work than 'no'. Unless, of course, someone has just asked you to commit a felony. — Lisa Lutz

The problem with marriage is that it ends every night after making love, and it must be rebuilt every morning before breakfast. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I carried with me into the West End Bar, the White Horse Tavern, a long list of things I would never do: I would never have my hair set in a beauty parlor. I would never move to a suburb and bake cakes or make casseroles. I would never go to a country club dance, although I did like the paper lanterns casting rainbow colors on the terrace. I would never invest in the stock market. I would never play canasta. I would never wear pearls. I would love like a nursling but I would never go near a man who had a portfolio or a set of golf clubs or a business or even a business suit. I would only love a wild thing. I didn't care if wild things tended to break hearts. I didn't care if they substituted scotch for breakfast cereal. I understood that wild things wrote suicide notes to the gods and were apt to show up three hours later than promised. I understood that art was long and life was short. — Anne Roiphe

I just love carbs. And when I'm on vacation I definitely allow myself carbs, so it's always funny when people are like, 'Oh my gosh, you look great in your bikini.' I'm like, 'If you only knew what I had for breakfast!' — Ashley Tisdale

In fact, since the accident, Mom doesn't love anyone. She is marble. Beautiful. Frigid. Easily stained by her family. What's left of us anyway. We are corpses.
At first, we sought rebirth. But resurrection devoid of her love has made us zombies. We get up every morning, skip breakfast, hurry off to work or school. For in those other places, we are more at home.
And sometimes we stagger beneath the weight of grief, the immensity of aloneness. — Ellen Hopkins

In seventh grade, with some vague sense that I wanted to be a writer, I crouched in the junior high school library stacks to see where my novels would eventually be filed. It was right after someone named Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. So I grabbed a Vonnegut book, 'Breakfast of Champions' and immediately fell in love. — Jess Walter

I love brunch because it's breakfast and lunch why not. — Lorena Garcia

Susie: Hi Calvin! Aren't you excited about going to school? Look at all these great school supplies I got! I love having new notebooks and stuff!
Calvin:All I've got to say is they're not making me learn any foreign languages. If English is good enough for me, then by golly, it's good enough for the rest of the world! Everyone should just speak English or shut up, that's what I say!
Susie: You should maybe check the chemical content of your breakfast cereal. — Bill Watterson

Right now I'll just be happy if you let me know what would you like to have in breakfast ." She swiftly moved from the platform to the fridge and took some bell peppers out of it. I spotted a bowl of boiled noodles. Perhaps, I would be fine with some change in my menu.
"some noodles will just be fine,a glass of orange juice." I put my glass in the sink and stepped back to have a better view of her amazing body. "and a bed full of you." I added.
Oops, I think that was pretty shameless.
-Abstruse. — Scarlett Brukett

Sweet music It beats love because there aren't any wounds: in the morning she turns on the radio, Brahms or Ives or Stravinsky or Mozart. She boils the eggs counting the seconds out loud: 56, 57, 58 ... she peels the eggs, brings them to me in bed. After breakfast it's the same chair and listen to the classical music. She's on her first glass of scotch and her third cigarette. I tell her I must go to the racetrack. She's been here about 2 nights and 2 days. "When will I see you again?" I ask. She suggests that might be up to me. I nod and Mozart plays. — Charles Bukowski

I love to go out in late September among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries to eat blackberries for breakfast, the stalks very prickly, a penalty they earn for knowing the black art of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries fall almost unbidden to my tongue, as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words like strengths or squinched, many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps, which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well in the silent, startled, icy, black language of blackberry - eating in late September. — Galway Kinnell

What would you say to a loved one if you had only a few seconds to impart a last message? What language does love speak?
Some of you speak love with wine and roses. For other, "I love you," is best said by breakfast in bed, carefully set aside sport sections, or night out at the movies, complete with buttered popcorn.
Children spell love T-I-M-E. So, I think, do older folks.
Teenagers spell it T-R-U-S-T. Sometimes parents spell love N-O.
But no matter what the letters, the emotion beneath the wording must be tangible, demonstrable, and sincere. — Angela Elwell Hunt

The thing was, Jeremiah was right. I did love him. I knew the exact moment it became real too. Conrad got up early to make a special belated
Father's Day breakfast, only Mr. Fisher hadn't been able to come down the night before. He wasn't there the next morning the way he was
supposed to be. Conrad cooked anyway, and he was thirteen and a terrible cook, but we all ate it. Watching him serving rubbery eggs and
pretending not to be sad, I thought to myself, I will love this boy forever. — Jenny Han

The colossal might of wickedness: how we love to locate it massively elsewhere. But so much of it comes down to what each one of us does between breakfast and bedtime. — Gregory Maguire

I trace his face with my fingers, 'Let me see. A guy tells me that he would have thrown himself in front of a train if it wasn't for me and then drives seven hours straight, without whingeing once, on a wild-goose chase in search of my mother with absolutely no clue where to start. He is, in all probability, going to get court-martialled because of me, has put up with my moodiness all day long, and knows exactly what to order me for breakfast. It doesn't get any more romantic than that, Jonah. — Melina Marchetta

Now don't go getting excited that I'll suddenly notice Hutch in the soft pink light of the sunset and fall in love. He's not the love of my life, and no, we haven't been destined to get together ever since those gummy bears back in fourth grade, just because that's what happens in moves. And don't go thinking he and I become best friends in a Breakfast Club sort of way, either, with me realizing he's got a heart of gold under the Iron Maiden motorcycle jacket, and him realizing that I'm not the slut everyone thinks I am. Yes, that happens onscreen. But forget it. This is real life. He creeps me out. We have nothing in common besides leprosy. — E. Lockhart

Distance,
the dissonance insurmountable,
would be not the end,
but a magnet.
When fingertips kiss,
they imprint and cement something,
that cannot be disintegrated.
Time becomes a phantom,
the wind becomes an anchor,
and old dreams- blankets of warmth.
Lull with me, Lady,
there is no greater escape.
Love and war, even when buttered on toast,
still makes for the breakfast of champions. — Dave Matthes

If you love Alex now, then love him forever. Make him laugh again, and cherish the time you spend together. Take walks and ride your bikes, curl up on the couch and watch movies beneath a blanket. Make him breakfast, but don't spoil him. Let him make breakfast for you as well, so he can show you he thinks you're special. Kiss him and make love to him and consider yourself lucky for having met him, for he's the kind of man who'll prove you right. — Nicholas Sparks

To put it another way, every love relationship is based upon unwritten conventions rashly agreed upon by the lovers during the first weeks of their love. On the one hand, they are living a sort of dream; on the other, without realizing it, they are drawing up the fine print of their contracts like the most hard-nosed of lawyers. O lovers! Be wary during those perilous first days! If you serve the other party breakfast in bed, you will be obliged to continue same in perpetuity or face charges of animosity and treason! — Milan Kundera

Between 9 and 10 AM the American radio is concerned almost exclusively with love. It seems a little like ending breakfast with a stiff bourbon. — Dean Acheson

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. When you feed yourself what your body needs when it needs it, that's love. So give your bod some TLC and sit down and enjoy a good, substantial breakfast. — Kathy Freston

There are many things to admire about Japan but this is the one thing I love the most and probably the only time I eat breakfast. Fish, eggs, soup, salad, veggies; all in the tiniest bites. It's a full meal, but it's so refreshing. — David Chang

She was definitely the sort of girl who puts her hands over a husband's eyes, as he is crawling in to breakfast with a morning head, and says Guess who! — P.G. Wodehouse

She caught her father one day at breakfast, between ministers with tactical problems and councillors with strategic ones. His face lit up when he saw her, and she made an embarrassed mental note to seek him out more often; he was not a man who had ever been able to enter into a child's games, but she might have noticed before this how wistfully he looked at her. But for perhaps the first time she was recognizing that wistfulness for what it was, the awkwardness of a father's love for a daughter he doesn't know how to talk to, not shame for what Aerin was, or could or could not do. — Robin McKinley

Maddie breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of breakfast and dish soap, clean laundry and wood floors, sunshine and a room filled with love. It smelled like home. — Crissi Langwell

I'm a child of the '80s, so like everyone else, I love all those classic, formative movies - 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off,' 'Pretty in Pink,' 'Sixteen Candles,' 'Dirty Dancing,' etc., with 'St. Elmo's Fire' and 'The Breakfast Club' existing on a separate, slightly higher plane. — Lauren Weisberger

The fish is that perfect, amazing guy it can never work out with - you know, a bird and a fish may fall in love - but where would they live? . . . So the fish is your total dream guy, he's smart, he's handsome, he gets all your jokes, he loves to talk, he gives you a nine-hour orgasm and then makes you homemade chocolate chip pancakes and serves you breakfast in bed - but he lives all the way across the country and neither of you can move, or he's married, or next in line for the throne, or he has a terminal disease or something . . . the fish. — Lisa Daily

There was a time Jeff and Helen loved each other and touched each other's hands and ate breakfast in cafes together and secretly fucked in public, the way people in like do. Then came a time they made each other crazy and beat their hands on steering wheels and tore up love letters and photographs and said goodbye. — Amy Guth

Making love. I've cringed every time Hester used those words. So off and awkward and unrelated to what actually goes on between two bodies. You make breakfast, you make time, you make the team. Love? Not so much. But I get it now. Like making fire. Not rubbing two sticks together to pull something out of thin air. More like finally being able, knowing enough, to warm your hands at something you built, stick by stick. — Huntley Fitzpatrick

You all set?" he asked, tossing me a pair of sunglasses.
"Wow, nice." I felt the frame, rubbing my finger over the lenses to wipe away a smudge. "Not bad, Phoenix."
"Twinkies." He slid his pair on and adjusted the gun across his chest. "Told you. Breakfast of champions."
- Skylla and Jet — Rachael Wade

I welcome monsters into my bed
and set a place for them at breakfast,
leave sugar out for their coffee
goddamn
I've always been so good at loving monsters — Fortesa Latifi

This was crazy. He ate humans for breakfast. Not to
mention he was older than Father Time. So why was I
falling for him, falling for him when I couldn't help but
push everyone else away? It frightened me to feel this
way, yet I couldn't stop this and didn't want to. — Laura Thalassa

Never look back, that's what she's told herself. Don't think about swans or being alone in the dark. Don't think of storms, or lightning and thunder, or the true love you won't ever have. Life is brushing your teeth and making breakfast for your children and not thinking about things, and as it turns out, Sally is first-rate at all of this. She gets things done and done on time. — Alice Hoffman

Earlier, when I made my coffee (after releasing my grateful geese), I sat at the big Northridge desk and got out the Edward Curtis portfolio for breakfast reading. When I untied the first folio there was a note - "Dalva & Ruth. Wash your hands. I love you. Grandpa." A simple old note, brittle with age, but I was momentarily overcome with loneliness for her; at the same time, though, I knew in a deeper sense that I was totally out of the running. In the long and short of it, love is a more difficult subject than sex. Or history. I — Jim Harrison

He stepped colser. Looked deep into my eyes. Hesitated a millisecond, and then dove in. "I think I'm falling in love with you."
Oh. No.
"Cole
"
"I know how you feel. About me. About him. I just wanted you to know-we could be good together. We could have a life. Kids. Vacations. On Sunday mornings I could serve you breakfast in bed."
He gave me his I-know-you-find-me-irrestible grin. "And then I could make you something to eat. — Jennifer Rardin

I've got to think of a hundred and sixty million Americans, not of the three or four that happen to be the ones I love. And it wouldn't be a big thing - security is built on lots of little thing. I don't like to talk about it. (Calhoun Hightower in Danger for Breakfast) — John McPartland

I adore good food as I adore all the other pleasant things of life, and because I have that gift I am able to look upon the future with equanimity."
"Why?" asked Alec.
"Because a love for good food is the only thing that remains with man when he grows old. Love? What is love when you are five and fifty and can no longer hide the disgraceful baldness of your pate. Ambition? What is ambition when you have discovered that honours are to the pushing and glory to the vulgar. Finally we must all reach an age when every passion seems vain, every desire not worth the trouble of achieving it; but then there still remain to the man with a good appetite three pleasures each day, his breakfast, his luncheon, and his dinner. — W. Somerset Maugham

Humans are so cute. When we say goodbye, we put our arms around each other and to show we love someone, we bring them flowers. We say hello by holding each other's hands and sometimes tiny little dewdrops form in our eyes. For pleasure, we listen to arrangements of sounds, press our lips together, smoke dried leaves, get drunk off of old fruit. We're all just little animals falling in love and having breakfast beneath billions of stars. — Unknown

Venice was luscious. She had real curves and real cleavage. She had a stunning face, set off by a broad, lascivious grin. She had an indefinable hairstyle, a swag of thick blond dazzle that seemed always in motion, falling in her eyes, getting caught in her mouth. Venice spoke in a husky growl, with a deep, filthy laugh.
Venice was no stranger to flirtation; she was practically no stranger to anyone. She smoldered, even at breakfast. Venice - at times literally - enjoyed a love affair with Manhattan. — Paul Rudnick

I'm an afternoon tea type of girl. I come from a Russian background where we love our teas. So between lunch and dinner after training I come home and I love a nice cup of tea with jam in it, as we drink it there. Black English Breakfast with raspberry jam is my favorite. — Maria Sharapova

The first conversation began awkwardly, although Espinoza had been expecting Pelletier's call, as if both men found it difficult to say what sooner or later the would have to say. The first twenty minutes were tragic in tone, with the word fate used ten times and the word friendship twenty-four times. Liz Norton's name was spoken fifty times, nine of them in vain. The word Paris was said seven times, Madrid, eight. The word love was spoken twice, once by each man. The word horror was spoken six times and the word happiness once (by Espinoza). The word solution was said twelve times. The word solipsism seven times. The world euphemism ten times. The word category, in the singular and the plural, nine times. The word structuralism once (Pelletier). The term American literature three times. The words dinner or eating or breakfast or sandwich nineteen times. The words eyes or hands or hair fourteen times. The the conversation proceeded more smoothly. — Roberto Bolano

This was our house. Mine and hers. I know she'd sneak over to the rectory every once in a while and let you wail on her for a night. But I got her the rest of the time. I cooked her breakfast. I answered her fan mail. I put her to bed when she fell asleep at her desk writing. I rubbed her back when she was sore from overworking herself. And when she got all wrought up over you, it was me she cried on. No, she and I never had sex. That's true. But we had love, real love that didn't take anything out of us, that didn't bruise us or break us. I loved her without hurting her. You asked me if I, a virgin, could teach her what sex should be? No, course not. Hell no. But at least I can teach her what love should be like. And she knows it too. — Tiffany Reisz

I ground my teeth. "Just when I thought I was getting a handle on this whole Dark One/demon lord/imp thing, you go and throw knockers into the mix. I'm going to have to request that you stop, Adrian. I'm about at my limit of how many impossible things I can believe before breakfast."
He flashed a heart-stoppingly roguish grin at me, his dimples just about bringing me to my knees. "Your middle name wouldn't be Alice, would it?" he asked.
"No, it's Diane, and you're no White Rabbit, so let's just stop pretending we're in Wonderland, OK?"
He laughed and pointed across the tiny square at our destination. I watched him for a moment, seeing a glimpse of the charming, charismatic man he must have been before the demon lord cursed him and leeched away all the softer emotions. — Katie MacAlister

I've got a nice car. I love my job. I've got a bagel store, and I have breakfast every morning with friends I grew up with. I've been in movies, I've written books - I don't know how that all happened. — Larry King

But after a few minutes of convincing myself that I really wanted to go - telling myself that I love skating and that my coach is there waiting for me - I would get up and go. And my mother would always get up and eat breakfast with me! — Nancy Kerrigan

I love to try new restaurants and breakfast places I can take my son to. — Beth Riesgraf

But the real show was offstage. Dozens of men lounged along the tables that circled the main attraction. They ranged from eighteen to eighty, skinny to fat, stout to lanky. I saw home in them. I saw fathers, grandfathers, brothers, boyfriends, professors, bosses, and preachers. I imagined their houses, their families, their jobs, the coffee shops where they bought breakfast pastries, the hospitals their children were born in, and their neighborhood route for their dog's morning walk. I saw the gleam in their eyes as the girls swiveled around poles, sashayed in their direction, and sat atop their laps like children visiting Santa Claus. They seemed to love their oriental dolls with a toddler's English fluency. They had their happy endings. They would soon be boarding planes, flying far away from the poverty, the mental and emotional collateral damage, and the possible babies they conceived. Thailand was theirs. It was their escape, their medicine, and their sanctuary of sin. — Maggie Young

And on my fourth morning in Naples, I woke up alone. There was a note on the table with the breakfast that Cinzia had quietly prepared for me. It read, "It could never be. But that's why it will always be - perfectly divine. Cinzia"
City Solipsism: A Short Story — Zack Love

The whirlwind of life
It was true. Sometimes life was like that, a wonderful whirlwind that fills us with joy, like a ride on a merry-go-round when we are children. A whirlwind of love and drunkenness when you sleep in someones arms, in a tiny bed, getting up for breakfast at midday because you've spent the morning making love. But sometimes a whirlwind destroys things, like a violent typhoon that tries to drag us down, when we have been caught by the storm, when we realize that we have to face the tempest alone. And we are afraid. — Guillaume Musso

Meat is a big deal in my life. I do love breakfast food, but I don't think that's extraordinary. I'm a normal American. We love eggs and meat and potatoes and gravy. — Nick Offerman

I'm really not hungry," she repeated, lifting the coffee cup and inhaling the fragrant steam before sipping.
"Just a few bites," he cajoled, taking his own place beside her. "You need to keep up your strength for tonight."
She gave him a heated, slumberous look, remembering her fantasy. "Why? Are you planning something special?"
"I suppose I am," he said consideringly. "It's special every time we make love. — Linda Howard

Real life is all beginnings. Days, weeks, children, journeys, marriages, inventions. Even a murder is the beginning of a criminal. Perhaps even a spree. Everything is prologue. Every story has a stutter. It just keeps starting and starting until you decide to shut the camera off. Half the time you don't even realise that what you're choosing for breakfast is the beginning of a story that won't pan out till you're sixty and staring at the pastry that made you a widower. No, love, in real life you can get all the way to death and never have finished one single story. Or never even get one so much as half-begun. — Catherynne M Valente

Harper, I ... "
You don't have to say it."
I don't?"
I know."
You know what?"
I lean against him, nestling in the crook of his arm. I talk into his neck. I don't need to be able to see to find the parts of him I know.
That morning in the trailer, when we had it to ourselves, and you made me breakfast, I wondered whether you would tell me you loved me, if you'd ever tell me, and I looked at you, and I thought you were going to say it, but instead you went off on a tangent about boysenberry jam."
And?"
And it was funny. And it was close enough to the real thing for me. Just sitting there with you like that."
Boysenberry jam?"
Boysenberry jam."
Harper," he whispers into my hair.
Yeah?"
I boysenberry jam you. — Dana Reinhardt

Maybe I really can see
The face of God.
Maybe it's there
When I sit with my
Patched-together family
For pancake breakfast.
Maybe it's in the power
Of the sea,
Or in the driftwood
That gets hurled about
By storms.
Maybe it's in the words
Of an ice-cream man
Or the joyful leaps
Of a dolphin.
It might even be in the pain
Of leaving my new best friend,
Or maybe
It's especially in that.
Maybe all these things
Show me the face of God,
Or maybe they just show me
A bit of light
Or love
Or happiness.
And maybe that's exactly
The same thing. — Shari Green

What's domesticity? Breakfast in bed? The cuckold going to shoot his wife? Does one inevitably lead to the other? I'm asking because there are no rules anymore and I don't want to end up fucked up. I don't want to destroy anyone through my love. But I don't want to end up chasing intimacy from strangers either. — Christos Tsiolkas

Every time we open one door, we close another. It's lovely to spend Sunday morning with our new love, cooking breakfast and taking a walk together. But in the midst of our happiness, we may feel nostalgia for our former Sunday morning ritual of uninterrupted time alone at a favorite restaurant reading the newspaper. We need to acknowledge the presence of both excitement and loss, to feel their rhythm as they ebb and flow through a new relationship. If we try to deny our losses, they lead to resentments, a gnawing discomfort, and a desire to withdraw.

Yet we also need to remind our ego that love means letting go of our entrenched rituals, of comparing, of wanting life to stay the same...Entering a relationship and living in the heart of the Beloved means our life will change, our shells will crack open and we will never be the same again. — Charlotte Kasl

He fell in love with a skinny stray cat that would skulk around the dining hall during meals. Every day, Jake would offer it sausage or egg from breakfast and pepperoni or hamburger from lunch. Every day, it ran away from him. But Jake didn't give up. Even when he had the stomach flu, he snuck out of the infirmary to try to feed it. He was not going to let it down. He would watch it from classroom windows. He even made up a poem about it that he sent home to his mother in a letter. Three months later, the little cat was finally hungry enough to trust him. It never occurred to Jake that the cat ... — Sarah Addison Allen

When I come out on the road of a morning, when I have had a night's sleep and perhaps a breakfast, and the sun lights a hill on the distance, a hill I know I shall walk across an hour or two thence, and it is green and silken to my eye, and the clouds have begun their slow, fat rolling journey across the sky, no land in the world can inspire such love in a common man. — Frank Delaney

They were both fomidable, but they were also the two people he cared most about in the world-Worlds-and he just wanted to carry them safley forward to the future he imagined, in which no one's life was at stake and the hardest decision of any given day might be what to eat for breakfast, or where to make love. — Laini Taylor

On Christmas morning, we always make breakfast, and everyone eats before we open any presents. I make muffins and homemade applesauce, which I don't think anyone likes as much as I do ... I just love the way it makes the house smell! — Laura Leighton

I love breakfast, so I'd probably spend a long time on that. And breakfast food matters so I'd make sure it is the best food - great fruit and such. — Garance Dore

Will. For a moment her heart hesitated. She remembered when Will had died, her agony, the long nights alone, reaching across the bed every morning when she woke up, for years expecting to find him there, and only slowly growing accustomed to the fact that side of the bed would always be empty. The moments when she had found something funny and turned to share the joke with him, only to be shocked anew that he was not there. The worst moments, when, sitting alone at breakfast, she had realized that she had forgotten the precise blue of his eyes or the depth of his laugh; that, like the sound of Jem's violin music, they had faded into the distance where memories are silent. — Cassandra Clare

I love the routine. I love getting up in the morning and getting breakfast and packing lunches and doing the school run. Those things are really important to me. Because I think that those small but key moments are crucial for a kid. — Kate Winslet

He laughed against her, his chest rumbling with the effort. Well, right now we're going to go eat breakfast and afterward I'm taking you shopping for some clothes. And if that doesn't say I love you, I don't know what does. I don't go shopping for anyone. — Maya Banks

I'm beginning to recognise that real happiness isn't something large and looming on the horizon ahead, but something small, numerous and already here. The smile of someone you love. A decent breakfast. The warm sunset. Your little everyday joys all lined up in a row. — Beau Taplin

Our family's special holiday tradition is going over to my grandparent's house on Christmas morning. My grandma cooks a big breakfast, and I love hearing her tell old funny stories. — Caroline Sunshine

I like ambition. I like someone who gets up in the morning and has a purpose. A real purpose. I have one. I want whoever I love to have one."
"I always look forward to breakfast. — Joe R. Lansdale

I love pancakes, and I actually do love healthy stuff. Like, I love gluten-free or whole-wheat pancakes. Breakfast is my favorite meal. — Ashley Tisdale

I love making buckwheat crepes with ham, Parmesan cheese, and a fried egg on top. It's my go-to breakfast. — Taylor Swift

Oh lovers! be careful in those dangerous first days! once you've brought breakfast in bed you'll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of lovelessness and betrayal. — Milan Kundera

I drank lots of water and orange juice and took a multivitamin and iron supplement for breakfast, which was my regimen since Bill had come into my life and brought (along with love, adventure, and excitement) the constant threat of anemia. — Charlaine Harris

A complete stranger
a giant pancake, no less
has just appeared in their home," Boyd said. "Why isn't anyone reacting to this? Wouldn't they be screaming in terror?"
"They love pancakes," Stan said.
"What would they do if a fried chicken leg walked in?"
"I'm not sure a chicken leg could walk in," said the script supervisor, a lady who wore three layers of shirts and sucked on a pencil as if it were a pacifier. "I suppose it could hop."
Stan looked over his shoulder at her. "let me handle this." He turned back to Boyd. "The family knows you. You're not just another pancake off the street. You're a celebrity pancake, the Jay Leno of breakfast foods. Would anyone throw Leno out of their house?"
"Okay, assuming you're right, I'm a pancake asking this family to eat me. Am I suicidal or simply filled with self-loathing?"
"Take your pick," Stan said. "Whatever will get you through the scene. — Janet Evanovich

My lady," says Aladdin, extending an arm toward the sun, "I give you gold as a token of my love."
"All I want is you," I reply. I turn and kiss him, pulling him against me, feeling the warmth of the dawn in my hair. Then I rest my head on his shoulder, simply feeling his arms around me, his heart beating against me.
"Are you cold?" asks Aladdin. "You're shivering."
"A little."
"I'll go get a blanket. And breakfast. If I can find the kitchen."
"Galley, love. It's called a galley."
"Right. Galley. Got it. I'll ask the captain. What was his name?"
"Sinbad, I think?"
"I'll be right back."
But I catch his hand. "I'm all right. Don't go yet."
He stays with me, and together we watch the sun stain the sea and sky a thousand and one shades of gold. My thumb rubs the ring on my finger, its dents and contours as familiar to me now as my hand.
So this is what it feels like to have all your wishes come true. — Jessica Khoury

We need to give children ways to help themselves feel good," she tells me. "Parents can start with simple messages throughout the morning that children can repeat - messages such as: It's so easy to get dressed. I love getting dressed. Breakfast is always a fun time. We're all so glad to see each other. We love eating breakfast together. Breakfast makes my body feel good. "Parents can even go around the table and have each family member share one thing they love about themselves. Or they can put affirmations in a bowl and choose one for the whole family to focus on during the day. This can become a morning ritual for couples, families, roommates, and so on. Each person can even decide on one experience they'd like to have that day and create an affirmation for — Louise L. Hay

I want you by my side not only for red carpet events, but for the nights when we're both exhausted from a long day on set and fall into bed, too tired to do anything but hold hands and fall asleep. I want to kiss the sugar off your lips while you're eating sweets for breakfast. And I want you there to drag into the shower with me to make up for not having the energy to make love to you the night before. — Bella Andre

I enjoy the wild things,
Call me at 3 am and tell me you're waiting at my door. Give me sunsets in different cities and road trips on dirt tracks not sighted on maps.
Whiskey for breakfast & cheap thrills for dinner.
Give me happiness in a smile and nothing of certainty but the way we make eachother feel.
There so much life in living while you're alive & id give absolutely anything to have it all with you. — Nikki Rowe

And when she at last came out, her eyes were dry. Her parents stared up from their silent breakfast at her. They both started to rise but she put a hand out, stopped them. 'I can care for myself, please,' and she set about getting some food. They watched her closely.
In point of fact, she had never looked as well. She had entered her room as just an impossibly lovely girl. The woman who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, and an ocean sadder. This one understood the nature of pain, and beneath the glory of her features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering.
She was eighteen. She was the most beautiful woman in a hundred years. She didn't seem to care.
'You're all right?' her mother asked.
Buttercup sipped her cocoa. 'Fine,' she said.
'You're sure?' her father wondered.
'Yes,' Buttercup replied. There was a very long pause. 'But I must never love again.'

She never did. — William Goldman

Before I turned vegetarian, I used to often cook seafood or my favourite breakfast of eggs and bacon. Now, I love making pulao or rice with lots of spices and vegetables. — Kangana Ranaut

There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work. And those who stay clean, just appreciate things. At breakfast they have milk and juice at night. There are those who do both, they drink tea. — Gary Snyder