Coffee And Friend Quotes & Sayings

I loved Duncan and I loved being his mother but I wasn't sure I was prepared to be only his mother. Before we were even married, when Russell and I had gotten our dog, Humbert, I had walked him early one morning, and as I stood on a line for coffee, someone had offered him a dog treat. "I always ask the mommy first," she said, looking at him expectantly. "Oh, I'm not his mother," I said, "I'm just his ... friend," and she looked at me with complete contempt. "You're his mother," she had scolded, "Poor dog. — Jennifer Belle

He looks at me again and the flames vanish and the knife is gone and his voice goes light and breezy and all coffee-shop conversational, as if he wasn't just one second ago impaling me with fiery eyes and discussing the dark fate of my best friend and the souls of all my classmates. — Michelle Knudsen

My friend created an iPhone app that locates Vienna Beef products across the country. Personally, I came hardwired with an internal GPS that instinctively points me toward coffee shops, cupcake stores and the perfect Chicago-style dog, so I find this technology redundant. — Jen Lancaster

When is Colton coming over again?"
I straightened magazines on the coffee table and pretended the subject didn't bother me. "When he realizes the truth about either me or Bryant."
Julianne's head popped up from behind the couch, where Ken and a collection of tiny plastic picnic food had fallen. "When will that be?"
"Oh probably around the same time hell freezes over."
"I thought Colton was your friend," Evelynn said. "I thought you liked him."
"I do-well, I used to." It made me feel sad just to say the words.
Rebecca gave me a long look. "But you're not going to talk to him until hell freezes over?"
I straightened another magazine. "Well, anything is possible. After all, Colton is in the same business as the devil, so he probably has some pull down there. Hell might be cooling as we speak. — Janette Rallison

There is nothing that I, personally, can do, except be there. At my family's suggestion I begin taking my little six-pound electronic typewriter with me so that I can write while Hugh is napping. This helps. For, like most of us, I feel frustrated when a situation arises where I am totally helpless, where there is nothing I can do to make anything better. I can, I hope, help Hugh a little by my presence, by the touch of my hand. But there is nothing specifically for me to do. And I think of a friend who has a coffee mug with the inscription: DON'T JUST DO SOMETHING. STAND THERE. — Madeleine L'Engle

Ravel said. "And I order people around really well. This morning, Tipstaff came over with a cup of tea and I told him no, I don't want tea I want coffee. That was great. I really asserted my authority."
"Did he go and get you a coffee?"
"No, he said he'd already made a pot of tea so I took the tea because, you know he'd already made it, but my authority was still firmly asserted."
Ghastly nodded. "He'll think twice about making tea again."
"That he will, Ghastly my friend, that he will. What are we looking for, by the way?
"Seriously? I gave you the file half an hour ago."
"Yes, you did."
"And did you read it?"
"No, I did not. — Derek Landy

Just have coffee with me. With an old friend." He wanted to say no, but the past had too strong a pull. He nodded, afraid to speak. They drove in silence to Starbucks and ordered their complicated coffees from an artist-wannabe barista with more attitude than the guy who works at the local record store. They added whatever condiments at the little stand, playing a game of Twister by reaching across one another for the nonfat milk or Equal. They sat down in metal chairs with too-low backs. The sound system was playing reggae music, a CD entitled Jamaican Me Crazy. Emily — Harlan Coben

For many years now I have listened to the stories of people with cancer and other life-threatening illnesses as their counselor. From them I have learned how to enjoy the minute particulars of life once again, the grace of a hot cup of coffee, the presence of a friend, the blessing of having a new cake of soap or an hour without pain. Such humble experience is the stuff that many of the very best stories are made of. If we think we have no stories it is because we have not paid enough attention to our lives. Most of us live lives that are far richer and more meaningful than we appreciate. — Rachel Naomi Remen

He laid it on George, me and our wives without telling us at a dinner party at his house. He was a friend of George's, and our dentist at the time. He just put it in our coffee or something. He didn't know what it was, it was just, 'It's all the thing,' with the middle-class London swingers. They had all heard about it and didn't know it was different from pot or pills. And they gave it to us, and he was saying, 'I advise you not to leave,' and we thought he was trying to keep us for an orgy in his house and we didn't want to know. — John Lennon

What's wrong with you?" John asks suspiciously. I give him a 'what chu talkin' 'bout Willis?' look and he explains. "You just woke up." I nod. "Walked into the kitchen." Once again I nod, not seeing what the big deal is. "And didn't rip apart the cabinets like a rabid squirrel looking like coffee." I shrug at that, I didn't even remember it. "What the fuck have you done with my best friend? — Katelin LaMontagne

It was around then that the phone rang. It was my friend Cee Cee, wanting to know if I cared to join her and Adam McTavish at the Coffee Clutch to drink iced tea and talk bad about everyone we know. — Meg Cabot

There are places in the world where real life is still happening, far away from here, in a pre-Hitler Europe, where hundreds of lights are lit every evening, ladies and gentlemen gather to drink coffee with cream in oak-panelled rooms, or sit comfortably in splendid coffee-houses under gilt chandeliers, stroll arm in arm to the opera or the ballet, observe from close-up the lives of great artists, passionate love affairs, broken hearts, the painter's girlfriend falling in love with his best friend the composer, and going out at midnight bareheaded in the rain to stand alone on the ancient bridge whose reflection trembles in the river. * — Amos Oz

...anyone who willingly turns their life upside down by becoming a cook is totally insane to begin with. So many chefs that I have met are dyslexic and totally not school people or intellectuals. That could be symbolic of the kind of lifestyle that they choose to live. They all drink a lot, do a lot of drugs, drink a shitload of coffee and espresso. They don't sleep much, and obviously don't have much of a life outside the kitchen. A cook's friend is a cook, there isn't much time for a non-cook friend or girlfriend. And time really isn't the issue so much as it's a lifestyle and a culture that is very hard to understand or identify with unless you are on the inside. Cooks hang out with cooks because there is nobody else awake, hungry and totally wired at 2am on a Tuesday. — Jennifer Topper

I think it's probably true that creative people are touched by melancholy more than the average person, and to the extent that delving into that shadow world produces good work, I'm all for it. But I think you have to be able to step back from the work, and say, "Look how miserable I felt. Look how beautifully I wrote about it. Now I'm going to get an iced coffee and chat with a friend." Writing should be a way out of despair. — David Starkey

Substances start out being so magically great, so much the interior jigsaw's missing piece, that at the start you just know, deep in your gut, that they'll never let you down; you just know it. But they do. And then this goofy slapdash anarchic system of low-rent gatherings and corny slogans and saccharin grins and hideous coffee is so lame you just know there's no way it could ever possibly work except for the utterest morons ... and then Gately seems to find out AA turns out to be the very loyal friend he thought he'd had and then lost, when you Came In. — David Foster Wallace

I prayed that the Lord would help me to see my life from his point of view. It was then that I noticed it: as I looked around my house, I had dozens of PRIDE posters, T-shirts, coffee mugs. The flag that waved in the breeze at my porch was a PRIDE flag. Pride had become my best friend. In the LGBT world, we defined pride as a healthy self-esteem. But something started to crack a little and I dared to just ask the question: was I domesticating a tiger? — Rosaria Champagne Butterfield

Have you somewhere else to be, George?" "Hmm?" His friend snapped to attention and grinned. "Anywhere but here. No offense intended, old man, but I tire of watching you glower at them. If you don't intend to relinquish Lady Oh to Fairchild, why did you invite him?" "Because he looked so woebegone when I had coffee with him the other day. Mrs. Hampton has not let her granddaughter see anyone but my family these weeks, and apparently the colonel felt her withdrawal acutely." Ben, on the other hand, had been allowed to watch her bruise change color under the rouge. Each shade proved a twist to the knife in his gut. Yes, it would be better for all if Fairchild were given the chance to declare himself. George clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Well, cheer up, my friend. If his expression is any indication, he may propose tonight, and then you will no longer be plagued by indecisiveness, what with him removing all decision from your hands." "Indeed." Blast it. — Roseanna M. White

I think it's degrading of you, Flora,' cried Mrs Smiling at breakfast. 'Do you truly mean that you don't ever want to work at anything?'
Her friend replied after some thought: 'Well, when I am fifty-three or so I would like to write a novel as good as "Persuasion", but with a modern setting, of course. For the next thirty years or so I shall be collecting material for it. If anyone asks me what I work at, I shall say "Collecting material." No one can object to that. Besides, I shall be.'
Mrs Smiling drank some coffee in silent disapproval.
'If you ask me,' continued Flora, 'I think I have much in common with Miss Austen. She liked everything to be tidy and pleasant and comfortable around her, and so do I. You see Mary,' - and here Flora began to grow earnest and to wave one finger about - 'unless everything is tidy and pleasant and comfortable all about one, people cannot even begin to enjoy life. I cannot endure messes. — Stella Gibbons

One day a Muslim friend and I were out for the day together. I had forgotten that the Fast of Ramadan had just begun and suggested that we step into a restaurant for a cup of coffee. "I will spend years in jail for that cup of coffee," he said, so of course I apologized for the suggestion. Then in low tones he admitted that his fast was restricted to public view and that he did not practice it in private. "I cannot work ten hours a day without eating," he said. There was an awkward silence, and he muttered these words: "I don't think God is the enforcer of these rules." As anyone knows who has asked any Muslim, they will admit with a smile upon their faces that during the month of the Fast of Ramadan more food is sold than during any other month of the year. But its consumption takes place from dusk to dawn rather than from dawn to dusk. Legalism always breeds compliance over purpose. In — Ravi Zacharias

My generation was secretive, brooding, ambitious, show-offy, and this generation is congenial. Totally. I imagine them walking around with GPS chips that notify them when a friend is in the vicinity, and their GPSes guide them to each other in clipped electronic lady voices and they sit down side by side in a coffee shop and text-message each other while checking their e-mail and hopping and skipping around Facebook to see who has posted pictures of their weekend. — Garrison Keillor

Mason prefers to switch over to Tea, when it is Dixon's turn to begin shaking his head. "Can't understand how anyone abides that stuff." "How so?" Mason unable not to react. "Well, it's disgusting, isn't it? Half-rotted Leaves, scalded with boiling Water and then left to lie, and soak, and bloat?" "Disgusting? this is Tea, Friend, Cha, - what all tasteful London drinks, - that," pollicating the Coffee-Pot, "is what's disgusting." "Au contraire," Dixon replies, "Coffee is an art, where precision is all, - Water-Temperature, mean particle diameter, ratio of Coffee to Water or as we say, CTW, and dozens more Variables I'd mention, were they not so clearly out of thy technical Grasp, - — Thomas Pynchon

I snatched up the cardboard cup, plastered my lips to the plastic sippy-lid and sucked down a scalding hot mouthful. It burned, but I didn't give a damn. I held the cup to my chest as if it were my most special friend while feeling the instant affect the coffee had on my mood and I smiled. Hello lover. — Ethan Day

There's people outside our house; you get followed by photographers; you can't go out and have a cup of coffee with a friend without someone coming up to you. — Jack Osbourne

There I was, clinging to the scraps of happiness that I could finally feel again: coffee and books and an afternoon with my best friend. What right did I have, when he was gone? — Emery Lord

Writing is the dragon that lives underneath my floorboards. The one I incessantly feed for fear it may turn and devour my ass. Writing is the friend who doesn't return my phone calls; the itch I'm unable to scratch; a dinner invitation from a cannibal; elevator music for a narcoleptic. Writing is the hope of lifting all boats by pissing in the ocean. Writing isn't something that makes me happy like a good cup of coffee. It's just something I do because not writing, as I've found, is so much worse. — Quentin R. Bufogle

The second thing you have to do to be a writer is to keep on writing. Don't listen to people who tell you that very few people get published and you won't be one of them. Don't listen to your friend who says you are better that Tolkien and don't have to try any more. Keep writing, keep faith in the idea that you have unique stories to tell, and tell them. I meet far too many people who are going to be writers 'someday.' When they are out of high school, when they've finished college, after the wedding, when the kids are older, after I retire ... That is such a trap You will never have any more free time than you do right now. So, whether you are 12 or 70, you should sit down today and start being a writer if that is what you want to do. You might have to write on a notebook while your kids are playing on the swings or write in your car on your coffee break. That's okay. I think we've all 'been there, done that.' It all starts with the writing. — Robin Hobb

The lurking tragedy: The chances are that an accident will some day happen to you at a friend's dinner table ... As long as water and coffee and jelly exist, a certain percentage of each will necessarily be overturned upon a like number of snowy white tablecloths. Usually the tragedy is really no one's fault. — Mary Elizabeth Clark

Cigarettes and coffee: an alcoholic's best friend! — Gerard Way

But I took a deep breath, and she sat there listening to me across my dirty coffee table, and we talked about community and family and authenticity. It's easy to talk about it, and really, really hard sometimes to practice it. This is why the door stays closed for so many of us, literally and figuratively. One friend promises she'll start having people over when they finally have money to remodel. Another says she'd be too nervous that people wouldn't eat the food she made, so she never makes the invitation. But it isn't about perfection, and it isn't about performance. You'll miss the richest moments in life - the sacred moments when we feel God's grace and presence through the actual faces and hands of the people we love - if you're too scared or too ashamed to open the door. I know it's scary, but throw open the door anyway, even though someone might see you in your terribly ugly half-zip. — Shauna Niequist

[O]ut of the blue Sophie asked, "Aunt Faith, what's a vibrator?"

Faith was in mid-swallow and choked on her coffee.
...
"Baby, where'd you hear that?"
...
"My momma was on the phone with her friend Ms. Kim last night, and she said that Lottie Bishop kicked her in the crouch so many times that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to take her vibrator for a test spin again. — Robin Alexander