What doesn’t KILL me makes me stronger… Except for the extinction of COFFEE… that might kill me.
One must savor the coffee, to actually have it.
Kekasih, Jangan garami kopiku dengan kesedihanmu. Relakan rasa pahitnya menggantikan dukamu.
Kopi dan perempuan, mereka saudara kembar. Dua-duanya keras kepala perihal rasa.
Mana yang lebih pahit; Kopi tanpa cumbuan gula, atau rindu yang dibiarkan gigil tanpa nama?
Dengan memagut secangkir kopi, aku berlindung dari godaan kesepian yang merasuk.
.. adalah kopi, miniatur surga yang terangkum dalam secangkir rasa yang bernyawa.
Kopi yang baik adalah kopi yang bisa menjadikan dirimu lebih tangguh dari lidahmu, dalam menanggung kepahitan.
Most important conversations for humans, concerns those they are having with God, their loved ones, with themselves and with coffee.
I cleaned the shit off my pink high-tops and drove home, stopping for an espresso at the coffeehouse across from the college. Men and women were hunched over copies of Jean Paul Sartre and writing in their journals. Most wore the thin-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses favored by intellectuals. Their clothes were faded to a precisely fashionable degree; you can buy them that way from catalogs now, new clothes processed to look old. The intellectuals looked at me in my overalls the way such people inevitably look at farmers. I dumped a lot of sugar in my espresso and sipped it delicately at a corner table near the door. I looked at them the way farmers look at intellectuals.
We always get up about 5:30, and George gets up and goes in and gets the coffee and brings it to me, and that's been our ritual since we got married. And we read the newspapers in bed and drink coffee for about an hour probably, read our briefing papers.
A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.
Almost all my middle-aged and elderly acquaintances, including me, feel about 25, unless we haven't had our coffee, in which case we feel 107.
When I started at Pratt, Spike Lee had his 40 Acres and A Mule studios down the street. You'd see Rosie Perez walking around going to Mike's Coffee Shop. So it was this black bohemian.
Adapting to our Second Adulthood is not all about the money. It requires thinking about how to find a new locus of identity or how to adjust to a spouse who stops working and who may loll, enjoying coffee and reading the paper online while you're still commuting.
It's about avoiding reality through various escape routes that become addictions and lead to Hell. My character is addicted to television, chocolate, coffee, to her dream of her son, which has no basis in reality.
Coffee and smoking are the last great addictions.
I have an affinity for the old Seattle coffee shops, places like the Green Onion and the Copper Kettle, the classic kind of coffee bar - little places that served breakfast, lunch and dinner and have pretty much disappeared.
I never drink coffee at lunch. I find it keeps me awake for the afternoon.
When we drink a cup of coffee or spoon heated chicken noodle soup or chili out of a Styrofoam cup, we are also taking in small doses of chemicals that leach from the container. Heat activates this transfer, as does oil, acids and alcohol.