Men are my bread and butter. It’s what I live for! I have no shame about that.
I like bread, and I like butter – but I like bread with butter best.
There is more food in a pennyworth of bread than in a gallon of ale.
You might be offered oatcakes as well as bread (especially in the north). If these do not tempt you, consider eating “horse-bread.” This is made from a sort of flour of ground peas, bran, and beans–if contemporaries look at you strangely, it is because it is not meant for human consumption.
Bad business should be done without guilt if it is a source of income.
The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight…[Breadmaking is] one of those almost hypnotic businesses, like a dance from some ancient ceremony. It leaves you filled with one of the world’s sweetest smells… there is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise,...
Christ knew that by bread alone you cannot reanimate man. If there were no spiritual life, no ideal of Beauty, man would pine away, die, go mad, kill himself or give himself to pagan fantasies. And as Christ, the ideal of Beauty in Himself and his Word, he decided it was better to implant the...
If bread – the staff of life – feeds the body; stories nourish the soul.
Perhaps this war will make it simpler for us to go back to some of the old ways we knew before we came over to this land and made the Big Money. Perhaps, even, we will remember how to make good bread again.It does not cost much. It is pleasant: one of those almost hypnotic...
How can a nation be called great if its bread tastes like kleenex?
I have bread, water, and love—what more can a man ask for? How about pasta, wine, and sex.
A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in. A minute to smile and an hour to weep in. A pint of joy to a peck of trouble, And never a laugh but the moans come double. And that is life. A crust and a corner that makes love precious, With a smile to...
You can’t just leave out one part; the bread won’t rise if the yeast isn’t there.
Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.
I had a dream about you. I walked by and you whistled like I was a piece of meat. And I was a piece of meat—I was a thin slice of ham. You were two pieces of bread, so we made love like most mothers make lunch for their kids. That sounded dirtier than it...
I judge a restaurant by the bread and by the coffee.
Eaters of Wonder BreadMust be underbred.So little to eat.Where’s the wheat?
I could live on challah bread, the Jewish kosher bread, quite happily.