I invented scissors with wheels, so I could cut to the chase. Next time we make love it will be the first time, and I’ll bring a sock soaked in coffee.
'Venti caramel macchiato, please,' he said. 'Hold the snobbery.'
The barista laughed and hit buttons on his register. 'You sure? We're having a sale on social mobility. The longer your coffee order takes to place, the more you have to pay.'
'Perfect. Reverse consumerism.'
I’d kill every politician with a spoon, if I thought they had coffee for brains. But they’re simply not that intelligent, and I wish the people would wake up to that fact.
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!
Coffee is a lot more than just a drink; it’s something happening. Not as in hip, but like an event, a place to be, but not like a location, but like somewhere within yourself. It gives you time, but not actual hours or minutes, but a chance to be, like be yourself, and have a second cup
I folded my map in half and used it to make a sandwich. Then I dipped it in coffee and ate all of Europe and half of Russia.
A smoke, a book, a cup of coffee.
These are the little things that get us through this sometimes weary world and all the rainy days.
Love is a lot like coffee in that I can never seem to get enough of it, and hers is hot and mine is iced.
Working in a hotel is the anti-coffee shop, because instead of it being a place that’ll wake you up, it’s a place to sleep.
Writing Cave means it's Coffee O'Clock...Who am I kidding? It's always Coffee O'Clock!
Coffee has a way of waking my soul, much like drinking liquid heaven would.
12 million Gertrudes agree—their name isn’t Gertrude. I know, because I asked them out to coffee, and only one responded. She said yes to coffee—and no to me.
I like my coffee black, my beer from Germany, wine from Burgundy, the darker, the better. I like my heroes complicated and brooding, James Dean in oiled leather, leaning on a motorcycle. You know the color. ("Ode to Chocolate")
Somehow, the Good Lord don't want to see no man start a cold morning with just black coffee.
I had a dream about you. You were drinking coffee, and I was eating coffee with a spoon, like soup. You thought I must be hungry, and you were right—I was hungry for your body. You had woken up my desire.
I drank the coffee because I was tired. I also drank the coffee because I was dominant, and it was passive and put up no fight.
Her hair was the color of coffee without cream, and she fell in love with me when I poured sugar on her. Probably.
Coffee has a way of falling into my cup the way love does not. I’m so tired of being alone.
Coffee has a way of waking me up like no alarm clock can. Not only do I sleepwalk, but I sleepdrink, and I often don’t wake up until 5:00 PM, when I leave work.
Coffee and chocolate—the inventor of mocha should be sainted.