Bread Quotes

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness -And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

Don't eat the bread unless you want to leave bread crumbs.

Your flour is your dream and your bread is your fulfillment. The environment in which your flour is baked can influence the shape of your bread... Just take it as simple as that!

O God give us our daily bread.

There was a bag of coffee beans beneath a harpoon gun and a frozen hunk of spinach, but there was no way to grind the beans into tiny pieces to make coffee. Near a picnic basket and a large bag of mushrooms was a jug of orange juice, but it had been close to one of the bullet holes in the trunk, and so had frozen completely solid in the cold. And after Sunny moved aside three chunks of cold cheese, a large can of water chestnuts, and an eggplant as big as herself, she finally found a small jar of boysenberry jam, and a loaf of bread she could use to make toast, although it was so cold it felt more like a log than a breakfast ingredient.

There is more food in a pennyworth of bread than in a gallon of ale.

The breath of being is been able to share your bread.

My name is Mr Bread." He began writing his name neatly on the board. "But you can call me Peter."Suddenly there was quiet, as thirty little brains whirred."Pita Bread!" proclaimed a ginger-haired boy from the back.

There he got out the luncheon-basket and packed a simple meal, in which, remembering the stranger's origin and preferences, he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask wherein lay bottled sunshine shed and garnered on far Southern slopes.

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 warm and tears to refresh us, And joy seems sweeter when cares come after, And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter. And that is life.

My mother is my friendWho shares with me her breadAll my hopelessness cured!Her company makes me secured!

I was so thin I could slice bread with my shoulderblades, only I seldom had bread

I love the caraway seeds in the classic rye bread, but I wonder if the rich dough might not also hold up to other flavors. I jot down some notes. Aniseed. Fennel seed. Orange zest. Golden raisins. Coarse salt? Maybe if Herman doesn't come down when I am working on the dough, I can use a small batch for a little experiment. I'm thinking rolls, not loaves. The kind of rolls you want to smear with cold sweet butter at dinner, or split and toast and spread with cream cheese for breakfast. Savory and sweet. Maybe semolina on the bottom instead of the coarser cornmeal we use for the regular rye loaves.

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 businesses, like a dance from some ancient ceremony. It leaves you filled with peace, and the house filled with one of the world's sweetest smells. But it takes a lot of time. If you can find that, the rest is easy. And if you cannot rightly find it, make it, for probably there is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation in a music-throbbing chapel, that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread.

When it comes to things such as sugar and rice, most people believe that brown is superior to white. But when it comes to human beings, they believe that the opposite is true.

Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts.

Man doth not live by bread only.

Give us this day our daily bread.

In order to have bread (a symbol of prosperity ) you have to first learn how to plough the land

If you caress me one more time, you will melt the butter on my toast.

We should not leave our "house of bread", because it is our assurance of eternity.

Bread is the staff of life.

You should never leave your "house of bread", under any pretence, whether it is oppression, troubles or hardships.

How can a nation be called great if its bread tastes like kleenex?

We do not need anything more than our daily bread.

I like bread, and I like butter - but I like bread with butter best.

What man is there of you whom if his son ask bread will he give him a stone?

Why we are hanging around with inequality concept every day, it is like comparing water with the bread.

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 ideal of Beauty in the soul. If it exists in the soul, each would be the brother of everyone else and then, of course, working for each other, all would also be rich. Whereas if you give them bread, they might become enemies to each other out of boredom.

The bread of such a nation (living godly) shall be in constant supply. Talking of abundance, provision, prosperity, surplus etc.

Those who waste bread will be condemned to as many years in purgatory as the number of crumbs wasted and will have to pick those crumbs up, one by one, with their eyelids.

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, no hour ofmeditation in a music-throbbing chapel. that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread.

A man needs only his daily bread.

Jesus said unto them I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.

There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.

Bread – like real love – took time, cultivation, strong loving hands and patience. It lived, rising and growing to fruition only under the most perfect circumstances.

I know on which side my bread is buttered.

Sinful and forbidden pleasures are like poisoned bread. They may satisfy appetite for the moment, but there is death in them at the end.

With bread and wine you can walk your road.

Better is half a loaf than no bread.

Eaters of Wonder BreadMust be underbred.So little to eat.Where's the wheat?

I'd rather teach you how to make BREAD than give you a SLICE from my BREAD.

You believe stealing is wrong, but if your family was starving and could not afford bread, wouldn't you say it’s okay to steal a loaf to feed them?

Bad business should be done without guilt if it is a source of income.

All sorrows are less with bread.

As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,For they are women's children, and we mother them again.Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!

Our physical body knows it cannot function without physical water. So, too, our spiritual life should realize that it can't function without the "living water" of Gods Word.

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.

I won't quarrel with my bread and butter.

Your bread assumes the shape of the pan in which you bake your flour. Therefore stand still and know that you can't use a rounded pan and ever get squared bread. Change the pan and get your desired shape of the bread!

A slice of bread eaten is a million times more nourishing than a loaf of bread imagined.

Give dry bread to a rich kid and he will throw it into the dustbin, give it to the poor kid and he will remember your name for the rest of his days

In a day a man needs only his daily bread.

Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.

I remember our childhood dayswhen life was easyand math problems hard.Mom would help us with our homeworkand dad was not at home but at work.After our chores, we’d go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts.You, sister, wore the bangles thatyou, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist.“Why the bangles?” the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead.“They’re for my sisters,” you said.Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke,a few sips each. Then,we’d buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white vanand hand-in-hand,we’d walk to our small flat above the restaurant.I remember our childhood days.Do you remember them too?

Then his singing paused, and he stood for a moment to cry out softly in the vernacular of the region: 'Blest be Adonoi Elohim, King of All, who maketh bread to spring forth from the earth,' in a sort of nasal bleat. The bleat being finished, he sat again, and commenced eating. The wanderer had come a long way indeed, thought Brother Francis, who knew of no adjacent realm governed by a monarch with such an unfamiliar name and such strange pretensions.

Three scents accompany my memories of this place: cut wood, poppy-seed bread, and the soft, crisp smell of snow.

Had a cold hummus with pita bread, Under a delicious food, yellow or red. Might just have the appetite to cook Urgent dinner by hook or crook.So that's just a humus humor spread.

In the history of art there are periods when bread seems so beautiful that it nearly gets into museums.

My first encounter with a baguette, torn still warm from its paper sheathing, shattered and sighed on contact. The sound stopped me in my tracks, the way a crackling branch gives deer pause; that’s what good crust does. Once I began to chew, the flavor unfolded, deep with yeast and salt, the warm humidity of the tender crumb almost breathing against my lips.