Coffee has a way of waking me up like no alarm clock can. Not only do I sleepwalk, but I sleepdrink, and I often don’t wake up until 5:00 PM, when I leave work.

I never scoff at coffins, because they’re like coffee cups you can bathe in. Well, coffins are like Starbucks’ coffee cups, only they have more life inside.

Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I'll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,and I still don’t know which month it was thenor what day it is now.Blurred out linesfrom hangovers to coffeeanother vagabond lost to love.

If my legs get blown off in war, I’d like to have them replaced with a coffee table. Half man/half furniture, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.


She’s the kind of woman where if you give her an inch, she’ll take the whole penis.
 She took all I had, and she didn’t even take me out to coffee.

i don't know. i don't care. all i know is when you pay for something that's supposed to give you a cup of coffee, you deserve to get your fucking cup of coffee.

If you’re ever in a ghost town, it’s only appropriate to visit the cemetery. Also, ever thought that coffee’s steam is the rising soul of your dead sleep?

I'm not a purist. Coffee drinking minus cream and sugar is an acquired taste. I'm still not sure it isn't like telling chefs to dispense with spices in cooking.

I have a coffee table, but I don’t like it. I think it could use some more cream and sugar. Plus, it’s entirely too liquid to be a functional piece of furniture.

In a blind taste test, nine out of ten Helen Kellers preferred Blue Ribbon Coffee to Starbucks. The tenth Helen Keller, well, she claimed she didn’t hear the question.

Snuggle time is my favorite time. Well, that and 12:34 and 3:33.
And the time between when I take my first sip of coffee at 8 AM and when I finally wake up, at 5:00 PM.

You are going to lose your home, your spouse, your life, and all at once, when you die. So why not drink coffee now and remember the life you haven’t started living yet?

I drink coffee like a civilized man—alone in a cave, wearing a loincloth, and grunting in frustration because my club is too thick to fit in my cup to stir in the sugar.

The Book of Life, I’m still writing it—both literally and literarily. So far I’ve written the Table of Contents. Right now it’s more of a coffee table.