Toast To Love Quotes & Sayings

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

Love is an afternoon of fishing when I'd sooner be at the ballet.
Love is eating burnt toast and lumpy graving with a big smile.
Love is hearing the words 'You're beautiful' as I fail to squeeze into my fat jeans.
Love is refusing to bring up the past, even if doing so would be a slam dunk to prove your point.
Love is your hand wiping away my tears, trying to erase streaks of mascara.
Love is the warm hug that extinguishes an argument.
Love is a humbly-uttered apology, even if not at fault.
Love is easy to recognize but so hard to define; however, I think it boils down to this ...
Love is caring so much about the feelings of someone else, you sacrifice whatever it takes to help him or her feel better.
In other words, love is my heart being sensitive to yours. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Here's to all those that i love
And here's to all them that love me
Here's to all those that love them that love those
that love US! — Adam Rhee

Every place where we were together was a symbol of our youth and our blissful ignorance of the world. It was our tiny bubble of happiness. And as I looked carefully at them, memorizing their faces and everything I was able to see about them, I mentally made a toast. Here's to all the sleepless nights and to our existence. — Kia Amazona

Love is when your heart melts like butter on toast; when you feel lightheaded and free. Most of all, you feel an ache to be with them, to look at them and to touch them. — Astrid Lee Miles

Admittedly, there was a lot she still didn't know about him, but she did know this: He completed her in a way that she'd never thought possible. Knowledge isn't everything, she told herself, and she knew then that, in Nana's words, he was the toast to her butter. — Nicholas Sparks

Friendship in marriage is its own thing: friendship in a cup of tea, or a glass of wine, or a cappuccino every Sunday morning. Friendship in buying undershirts and underpants. Friendship in picking up a prescription or rescuing the towed car. Friendship in waiting for the phone call after the mammogram. Friendship in toast buttered just so. Friendship in shoveling the snow. I am the one you want to tell. You are the one I want to tell. — Elizabeth Alexander

Claire lifted her glass after everyone had eaten. "Everyone make a toast. To food and flowers," she said.
"To love and laughter," Tyler said.
"To old and new," Henry said.
"To what's next," Evanelle said.
"To the apple tree," Bay said. — Sarah Addison Allen

He was the toast to her butter. — Nicholas Sparks

Sometimes you are the peanut to my butter and sometimes you are those annoying crumbs left over when someone makes toast. — Brenda Lochinger

Byron published the first two cantos of his epic poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a romanticized account of his wanderings through Portugal, Malta, and Greece, and, as he later remarked, "awoke one morning and found myself famous." Beautiful, seductive, troubled, brooding, and sexually adventurous, he was living the life of a Byronic hero while creating the archetype in his poetry. He became the toast of literary London and was feted at three parties each day, most memorably a lavish morning dance hosted by Lady Caroline Lamb. Lady Caroline, though married to a politically powerful aristocrat who was later prime minister, fell madly in love with Byron. He thought she was "too thin," yet she had an unconventional sexual ambiguity (she liked to dress as a page boy) that he found enticing. They had a turbulent affair, and after it ended she stalked him obsessively. She famously declared him to be "mad, bad, and dangerous to know," which he was. So was she. — Walter Isaacson

No matter how bad things get, it's impossible not to love someone who made you toast. Once you've been through that crusty surface to the soft underneath and tasted the warm, salty butter you'll last forever. — Nigel Slater

I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way, and I don't want to be the kind that says the wrong way. But it doesn't work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats. There were some nice parts, sure, all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas and the grain of sugar on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number. I'm sorry it's such a lousy story. — Richard Siken

Afterward she lies nestled against me, her hair tickling my face. I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. — Sara Gruen

We bring champagne to Franklin and Jeffrey, and I offer a final toast, 'Wishing you all good things in your life together.' Short, simple, to the point.
I look at Meredith, relaxed in her ivory gown, my sister is all grown up. I'm grateful we did our growing up together. — Steven Rowley

Another scar or two won't ruin my pretty face."
"Right."
"Carlos, are you being polite? That's not why I came here for. I know I'm not Steve McQueen."
"My lady is totally in love with him. Lucky for me he's dead or I'd be in trouble."
I hold up my glas of Jack Daniel's in a toast. "Here's to all the guys better looking than us. May they all die first. — Richard Kadrey

I love KIND bars. My favorites are coconut and almond and the dark chocolate and sea salt because staying fueled helps keep me from getting sick or injured. Bananas have also made a great comeback in my life. My kids eat them all the time on the go, which has inspired my go-to pre-run morning meal of peanut butter and banana on toast. — Summer Sanders

You don't have to shoot me," says the young lion. "I will be your rug and I will lie in front of your fireplace and I won't move a muscle and you can sit on me and toast all the marshmallows you want. I love marshmallows. — Shel Silverstein

A toast, Jedediah, to love on my terms. Those are the only terms anybody ever knows - his own. — Orson Welles

What are you thinking?" he asks.
I know Gage hates it when I cry - he is completely undone by the sight of tears - so I blink hard against the sting. "I'm thinking how thankful I am for everything," I say, "even the bad stuff. Every sleepless night, every second of being lonely, every time the car broke down, every wad of gum on my shoe, every late bill and losing lottery ticket and bruise and broken dish and piece of burnt toast."
His voice is soft. "Why, darlin'?"
"Because it all led me here to you. — Lisa Kleypas

did she love you?
only as an extension of herself.
what else can love be?
the common sense to care very much for something very good. it needn't be related by bloodline. it can be a red beachball or a piece of buttered toast. — Charles Bukowski

I could live there all alone, she thought, slowing the car to look down the winding garden path to the small blue front door with, perfectly, a white cat on the step. No one would ever find me there, either, behind all those roses, and just to make sure I would plant oleanders by the road. I will light a fire in the cool evenings and toast apples at my own hearth. I will raise white cats and sew white curtains for the windows and sometimes come out of my door to go to the store to buy cinnamon and tea and thread. People will come to me to have their fortunes told, and I will brew love potions for sad maidens; I will have a robin ... — Shirley Jackson

A toast before we go into battle. True love. In whatever shape or form it may come. May we all in our dotage be proud to say, 'I was adored once, too. — Jenn McKinlay

It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you. — Nigel Slater

That I survived the Holocaust and went on to love beautiful girls, to talk, to write, to have toast and tea and live my life - that is what is abnormal. — Elie Wiesel

But if Miss Golightly remained unconscious of my existence, except as a doorbell convenience, I became, through the summer, rather an authority on hers. I discovered, from observing the trash-basket outside her door, that her regular reading consisted of tabloids and travel folders and astrological charts; that she smoked an esoteric cigarette called Picayunes; survived on cottage cheese and Melba Toast; that her vari-colored hair was somewhat self-induced. The same source made it evident that she received V-letters by the bale. They were torn into strips like bookmarks. I used occasionally to pluck myself a bookmark in passing. Remember and miss you and rain and please write and damn and goddamn were the words that recurred most often on these slips; those, and lonesome and love. — Truman Capote

Sissy Mae Smith ... stumbled into the room loaded down with even more bags. "You pack like a woman," she snarled when she finally dropped the luggage to the floor. "How can one man have so much conditioner?"
His mouth filled with French toast, Mitch pointed at his hair and snarled, "Tawny mane! Do you think this shit stays this beautiful on its own? It needs care and love! Which is more than I'm getting from you! — Shelly Laurenston

Love
My soul was a light-blue gown, sky-coloured;
I left it on a cliff by the sea
and naked I came to you, resembling a woman.
And like a woman I sat at your table
and drank a toast with wine and breathed in the scent of several roses.
You found me beautiful, resembling something you'd seen dreaming,
I forgot everything, I forgot my childhood and my homeland,
I knew only that your caresses held me captive.
And, smiling, you took up a mirror and bade me look.
I saw that my shoulders were made of dust and crumbled away,
I saw that my beauty was sick and had no desire other than to - disappear.
Oh, hold me close in your arms, so tightly that I need nothing. — Edith Sodergran

My friend I wish health to you,
I also wish wealth to you;
I wish the best that life can give to you,
And may dreams always come true to you.
May fortune to kind to you,
And happiness be true to you;
And love be so sweet to you
And life be long and good to you.
And in this toast we give to you
Our love we all give to you. — Willie Jolley

Rosemary died when I was six, and when my parents told me, I cried. I wasn't sure if I had a right to, but I think now of something the British chef Nigel Slater once wrote, that it is "impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you." I think the same can be said of the person who scoops your ice cream into a dish and stands, smiling, as you eat. — Jessica Fechtor

You share a toast with me:
Here's to seasonal
madness, part-time
relatives, and
substitutes for love. — Ellen Hopkins

To my lady. May she have success in all her endeavors, health and friendships, and may I not take my own last breath until she takes hers. May she always know I love her. — Katy Evans