Comedy is, of course, closely associated with eggs.

The codfish lays ten thousand eggs. The homely hen lays one. Codfish never cackles to tell you what she has done. And so we scorn the codfish, while the humble hen we prize, which only...

I don’t have tears running down my cheeks. Those are egg yokes, and yes, it means I’m in love.

How is destruction beautiful?” He asked in a challenging tone.”You may think that a broken egg is ugly and messy,” she answered, “but the cake it goes into is beautiful and won’t hold together without...

In the morning, I’ll usually do eggs and toast, but at night I keep it all protein.

My day starts like a regular guy’s. I wake up, drink raw eggs, run around Philadelphia, and punch raw slabs of meat. Wait, that’s not my story—that’s Rocky’s. I get us confused all the time.

The radio signal was scrambled, and so were my eggs. I got tired of eating commercial breaks for breakfast.

Soon they were all sitting on the rocky ledge, which was still warm, watching the sun go down into the lake. It was the most beautiful evening, with the lake as blue as a cornflower...

There was something sort of bleak about her tone, rather as if she had swallowed an east wind. This I took to be due to the fact that she probably hadn’t breakfasted. It’s only after...

There are at least two sides to every issue, and I like my issues sunny side up. I also like bacon and toast on the side. Are you eating what I’m saying?

full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans,...

Aw, kiss him, Gwen, clamored a hundred perky eggs. Shut up, she rebuked. We don’t even know him, and until moments ago we thought he was dead. That’s no way to start a relationship.

I want to keep politics out of my breakfast. Politics isn’t something I want in my eggs, no matter how scrambled I like them.

Out of love I made you a cake. Also out of milk, eggs, flour, sugar, and vanilla.

I gathered all my eggs in one basket, because I believe in collectivism, and I wanted a tyrannical omelet.

I like not to feel that all my eggs are in one basket, or I get nervous.

I had eggs for breakfast. I ate them off the hood of a politician’s car, after I threw them there.

I like my eggs sunny side up at midnight, and I wear sunglasses when I eat them because they are so bright. They’re almost as blinding as my love for you, only not as runny.

Without unscrambled eggs, there was no time travel, no more depredation of the Now, and we could look to a brighter future of long-term thought–and more reading.

Maddock stabbed his fried egg with his fork, and bright yellow yolk bled all over his plate like a sunshine hemorrhage.

I need love. Here’s a list of other things I need: eggs, butter, flour, and sugar. I’m making a cake for the woman I love—and another one for my lover.

If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg. Why?...

Not every hen lay eggs. Not every hen that lays eggs gets them hatched. Not everyone born with greatness becomes as such. Go, hatch your eggs.

You cackle a lot, but don’t lay any eggs.

I have to have breakfast, and breakfast has to be eggs!

The letters of my name are scrambled like eggs. They should be sunny side up, like Dark Jar Tin Zoo.

You don’t expect the goat to hatch the hen’s eggs. People do what they know very well. Don’t expect someone who doesn’t know what you know to do it for you. Do it yourself.

I guess I am going to think about freezing my eggs.

Francis Bacon has the most delicious last name ever, followed closely by Johnny Scrambledeggs. I make love like those two guys make breakfast out of family reunions.

Look at the woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost.

You got the eggs in you; the world is fully ready to celebrate the chicks out of your laying labour. Never give up. Go and breed! Go and breed great dreams.

Everyone can make scrambled eggs, Remy. It’s programmed into you at birth, the default setting. Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just know.

Self-pity is the hens’ besetting sin,” remarked Mr. Payton. “Foolish fowl. How they came to achieve anything as perfect as the egg I do not know! I cannot fathom.

I need to know the price of a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs. I need to know right now.

I like my relationships like I like my eggs. Over easy.

‘These eggs are broken. Cracked.’ ‘Yes, ma’am. That happens sometimes.’ ‘Does it?’ ‘Yes, it’s the unfortunate part of being an egg.’

I’ve got a sizeable retirement nest egg. It’s an ostrich egg, and it’s going to make an omelet so big that it’ll produce enough leftovers for decades.

We are not encouraged, on a daily basis, to pay careful attention to the animals we eat. On the contrary, the meat, dairy, and egg industries all actively encourage us to give thought to our...

Never leave the egg in you not laid. Don’t leave the laid eggs there not hatched. You deserve the best; you were created to use every gift in you!

It’s OK to have your eggs in one basket as long as you control what happens to that basket.

Like eggs, I’m scrambling to get ahead in this economic depression.

It turned out to be a war which, unfortunately for Comrade Pillai, would end almost before it began. Victory was gifted to him wrapped and beribboned, on a silver tray. Only then, when it was...

Perante o seu moment neo des nimo, a mãe encheu uma panela com água e deu-lhe nove ocos. Disse: «Põe os ovos, um a um, dentro de água, com cuidado para não se partirem. Os...

Leadership is being the first egg in the omelet.