Toaster Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
do-you-have-lot-other-profound-thoughts-like-that-blood-is-blood-a-toaster-is-toaster-a-gelatinous-cube-is-gelatinous-cube-cassandra-clare
your-toasters-puff-st-john-morris
never-put-a-sock-in-a-toaster
if-you-want-guarantee-buy-toaster-clint-eastwood
the-last-time-i-used-what-do-you-mean-i-used-my-toaster-this-morning-charlie-sheen
and-weve-got-a-toaster-and-everything-so-there-is-no-reason-for-the-wedding
if-you-want-a-guarantee-buy-yourself-a-toaster
why-shouldnt-pc-work-like-refrigerator-toaster-walt-mossberg
people-always-say-how-you-should-be-yourself-like-yourself-is-definite-thing-like-toaster-something-angela-chase-claire-danes
i-could-tell-my-parents-hated-me-my-bath-toys-were-a-toaster-and-a-radio
i-could-tell-that-my-parents-hated-me-my-bath-toys-were-a-toaster-and-a-radio
lets-be-honest-we-all-get-shocked-every-time-the-bread-pops-out-of-the-toaster
i-knew-i-was-an-unwanted-baby-when-i-saw-that-my-bath-toys-were-a-toaster-and-a-radio
what-i-think-is-all-i-have-left-my-mind-is-only-thing-that-makes-me-different-from-fancy-toaster-what-we-think-does-matterits-all-we-truly-have-mary-e-pearson
you-cant-be-perfect-environmentalist-unless-youre-ed-begley-jr-whom-i-once-saw-on-tv-using-bicycle-to-power-his-toaster-hes-amazing
television-is-like-the-american-toaster-you-push-the-button-and-the-same-thing-pops-up-everytime
i-wish-computer-companies-would-design-a-keyboard-with-a-removable-crumb-tray-kinda-like-my-toaster
i-knew-my-mother-had-it-in-for-me-from-a-young-age-my-bath-toys-were-an-electric-toaster-and-hairdryer
i-want-to-get-job-naming-kitchen-appliances-that-seems-easy-refrigerator-toaster-blender-you-just-say-what-thing-does-add-er-mitch-hedberg
i-knew-kid-who-stuck-knife-in-toaster-on-few-occasions-he-learned-it-hurt-he-grew-up-to-be-great-electrician-travis-j-dahnke
i-often-say-to-prospective-clients-nothing-will-age-faster-than-your-hardware-even-thinnest-touch-screen-will-look-like-toaster-oven-in-number-years
i-dont-want-to-give-impression-that-i-hold-daily-conversations-with-my-household-appliances-although-my-toaster-is-as-old-as-drew-barrymore-almost-tom-robbins
i-saw-you-put-rice-in-toaster-once-said-mae-i-was-there-when-made-tin-beans-explode-it-was-faulty-jamie-protested-his-eyes-shifty-i-am-sure-this-sarah-rees-brennan
ian-sighed-wanly-i-once-had-means-to-be-gaga-over-artbefore-i-found-myself-in-country-where-standard-beauty-is-toaster-waffles-shaped-like-cartoon-gordon-korman
from-makers-alien-vs-predator-alien-vs-pingu-k9-stop-humping-toaster-russell-howard
my-girlfriend-just-bought-me-portable-toaster-and-my-birthdays-coming-up-im-half-expecting-her-to-buy-me-portable-bathtub-to-go-along-with-it-jarod-kintz
i-have-avoided-becoming-stale-by-putting-little-water-on-plate-lying-on-plate-having-myself-refreshed-in-toaster-oven-for-23-minutes-once-every-dean-koontz
you-can-give-poor-people-this-royal-wedding-to-watch-make-them-feel-good-about-themselves-you-can-give-them-something-useful-like-i-dont-know-toaster
the-toaster-lacking-real-bread-would-pretend-to-make-two-crispy-slices-toast-or-if-day-seemed-special-in-some-way-it-would-toast-imaginary-english-muffin-thomas-m-disch
many-people-continue-to-think-sharks-as-man-eating-beasts-sharks-are-enormously-powerful-wild-creatures-but-youre-more-likely-to-be-killed-by-your-kitchen-toaster-than-shark
too-bad-my-car-key-wont-start-my-house-and-to-answer-your-unasked-question-no-you-cant-use-my-toaster-like-dual-vagina-at-least-not-for-twoforone-price-that-price-only-applies-on
she-has-electric-blender-electric-toaster-electric-bread-maker-she-said-there-are-too-many-gadgets-no-place-to-sit-down-so-i-bought-her-electric-red-skelton
closer-than-your-toaster-closer-than-your-tie
my-full-name-is-lauren-lee-smith-of-all-names-i-could-have-been-given-thats-one-i-got-lauren-lee-smith-it-has-all-personality-toaster-elizabeth-scott
During this hour in the waking streets I felt at ease, at peace; my body, which I despised, operated like a machine. I was spaced out, the catchphrase my friends at school used to describe their first experiments with marijuana and booze. This buzzword perfectly described a picture in my mind of me, Alice, hovering just below the ceiling like a balloon and looking down at my own small bed where a big man lay heavily on a little girl I couldn't quite see or recognize. It wasn't me. I was spaced out on the ceiling. I had that same spacey feeling when I cooked for my father, which I still did, though less often. I made omelettes, of course. I cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl, and as I reached for the butter dish, I always had an odd sensation in my hands and arms. My fingers prickled; it didn't feel like me but someone else cutting off a great chunk of greasy butter and putting it into the pan. I'd add a large amount of salt - I knew what it did to your blood pressure, and I mumbled curses as I whisked the brew. When I poured the slop into the hot butter and shuffled the frying pan over the burner, it didn't look like my hand holding the frying-pan handle and I am sure it was someone else's eyes that watched the eggs bubble and brown. As I dropped two slices of wholemeal bread in the toaster, I would observe myself as if from across the room and, with tingling hands gripping the spatula, folded the omelette so it looked like an apple envelope. My alien hands would flip the omelette on to a plate and I'd spread the remainder of the butter on the toast when the two slices of bread leapt from the toaster. 'Delicious, ' he'd say, commenting on the food before even trying it.

Alice Jamieson
during-this-hour-in-waking-streets-i-felt-at-ease-at-peace-my-body-which-i-despised-operated-like-machine-i-was-spaced-out-catchphrase-my-friends-at-school-used-to-describe-their
I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.' Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot - I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, God damn it! My life has VALUE!' So I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window. Open it, and stick your head out, and yell, 'I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!' I want you to get up right now, sit up, go to your windows, open them and stick your head out and yell - 'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change. But first, you've gotta get mad!... You've got to say, 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out, and yell, and say it: "I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!

Paddy Chayefsky
i-dont-have-to-tell-you-things-are-bad-everybody-knows-things-are-bad-its-depression-everybodys-out-work-scared-losing-their-job-the-dollar-buys-nickels-worth-banks-are-going-bus
People walk the paths of the gardens below, and the wind sings anthems in the hedges, and the big old cedars at the entrance to the maze creak. Marie-Laure imagines the electromagnetic waves traveling into and out of Michel's machine, bending around them, just as Etienne used to describe, except now a thousand times more crisscross the air than when he lived - maybe a million times more. Torrents of text conversations, tides of cell conversations, of televisions programs, of e-mails, vast networks of fiber and wire interlaced above and beneath the city, passing through buildings, arcing between transmitters in Metro tunnels, between antennas atop buildings, from lampposts with cellular transmitters in them, commercials for Carrefour and Evian and prebaked toaster pastries flashing into space and back to earth again, I am going to be late and Maybe we should get reservations? and Pick up avocados and What did he say? and ten thousand I miss yous, fifty thousand I love yous, hate mail and appointment reminders and market updates, jewelry ads, coffee ads, furniture ads flying invisibly over the warrens of Paris, over the battlefields and tombs, over the Ardennes, over the Rhine, over Belgium and Denmark, over the scarred and ever-shifting landscape we call nations. And is it so hard to believe that souls might also travel those paths? That her father and Etienne and Madame Manec and the German boy named Werner Pfennig might harry the sky in flocks, like egrets, like terns, like starlings? That great shuttles of souls might fly about, faded but audible if you listen closely enough? They flow above the chimneys, ride the sidewalks, slip through your jacket and shirt and breastbone and lungs, and pass out through the other side, the air a library and the record of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it. Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world. We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs.

Anthony Doerr
people-walk-paths-gardens-below-wind-sings-anthems-in-hedges-big-old-cedars-at-entrance-to-maze-creak-marielaure-imagines-electromagnetic-waves-traveling-into-out-michels-machine
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