Dough Quotes

#1. It was as though the darkness was a sheet of raw cookie dough and someone had just taken a cookie cutter and made a child-sized shape out of it. #Quote by Lauren Oliver

#2. At forty-two, I was still holding up pretty well, but my once effortlessly lean body now look as though it belonged in a Dove firming cream ad -- the one where they give women permission to have thighs. When I unbuttoned my jeans at night, I swore I heard the same sound that Pillsbury dough made when I twisted the cylindrical container. My hair was beginning to gray, and when I smiled, the parentheses around my mouth remained. My least favorite position in yoga class was the downward dog because, as I hung my head downward, I always felt the skin from my face was about to splatter against my mat like a pancake batter hitting the griddle. So being called the top model by a young Italian was a wonderful souvenir, though cheaper than the toys sold outside the Pantheon in Rome. #Quote by Jennifer Coburn

#3. Aunt Rachel removes the knaffea from the oven and places it on its sumptuous tray; the shredded phyllo dough is crisp and brown, crackling with hot, rose-scented syrup. Nestled within, like a naughty secret, is the melting layer of sweet cheese. The pastry is freshly hot, the only way to eat it, really, with its miraculous study in contrasts - the running cheese hidden within crisp, crackling layers of baked phyllo and the distinctive, brocaded complexities of flavors. It's so hot that it steams in your mouth, and at first you eat it with just the tips of your teeth. Then the layers of crisp and sweet and soft intermingle, a series of surprises. It is so rich and dense that you can eat only a little bit, and then it is over and the knaffea is just a pleasant memory - like a lovely dream that you forget a few seconds after you wake. But for a few seconds, you knew you were eating knaffea. #Quote by Diana Abu-Jaber

#4. Just the word beautiful was seductive - but what did it really mean? Beauty was a soft word that ached with possibility, pliant as dough. You could not presume to define it, she realized, because the very idea of beauty and all it represented was a subjective thing - in the eye of the beholder - but that wasn't really true anymore. #Quote by Elizabeth Brundage

#5. This is the circus of Dr. Lao.
We show you things that you don't know.
We tell you of places you'll never go.
We've searched the world both high and low
To capture the beasts for this marvelous show
From mountains where maddened winds did blow
To islands where zephyrs breathed sweet and low.
Oh, we've spared no pains and we've spared no dough;
And we've dug at the secrets of long ago;
And we've risen to Heaven and plunged Below,
For we wanted to make it one hell of a show.
And the things you'll see in your brains will glow
Long past the time when the winter snow
Has frozen the summer's furbelow.
For this is the circus of Dr. Lao.
And youth may come and age may go;
But no more circuses like this show! #Quote by Charles Grandison Finney

#6. It's not all that different with the orchestra. There are orchestras that seem to be encased in dough, so that first you have to break through the normal routine, and clear out the openings. #Quote by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau

#7. You drive for show but putt for dough. #Quote by Bobby Locke

#8. Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence #Quote by O. Henry

#9. I am the living dead girl because I am too weak to die. I hate those crying dough women on TV because they are just like me, weak and broken and clinging to the hands that hold us under. #Quote by Elizabeth Scott

#10. A man without ambition is worse than dough that has no yeast in it to raise it. #Quote by Henry Ward Beecher

#11. She watched Mabel mix bread dough, and it was as if a songbird had landed on a bedroom windowsill. #Quote by Eowyn Ivey

#12. The grunt pulled his collar up around his neck. "Butterfinger." "Yeah." Queho nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Butterfinger. Good one. I liked that one. I always got the candy stuck between my teeth. Same with the Heath Bar." He picked at his teeth with his finger. "Not worth the effort." The grunt kept pace with Queho. The caravan was traveling more like an amorphous pack. The town's wide streets accommodated the disorganization as the posse clopped along. Queho was so preoccupied with Dairy Queen, he didn't notice. "I always got the chocolate chip cookie dough," Queho said, licking his lips. "Oh, that was good. And remember? They'd hold it upside down?" He held out his hand to pantomime a Dairy Queen clerk holding a cup of ice cream upside down. "That way you knew how thick they made it." The #Quote by Tom Abrahams

#13. Currently, the scent of rising dough and hot berries was being sucked through the old air-conditioning unit and spread throughout the main house. This was Lisette's rebellion. She was cooking for guests who weren't coming. It was as if nothing bad could happen if she just kept going. Like a wheel in motion, she seemed to think no one could stop her, or make her leave, once she started. #Quote by Sarah Addison Allen

#14. Louis's favorite restaurant is Pizza Hut, "because of the Cookie Dough desert #Quote by Victoria Douglas

#15. As humourless a lump of dough as ever held a torchlight vigil outside the South African Embassy or stuck an AIDS awareness ribbon on an unwilling first-nighter. #Quote by Stephen Fry

#16. Electra Gates would never concern herself with how much lard should be in pie dough, I thought; but then, I was not Electra Gates. I wanted pie, something that didn't seem to interest romantic heroines. #Quote by Sharon Pywell

#17. In a cookie factory, different cookies are baked in the shape of animals, cars, people, and airplanes. They all have different names and forms, but they are all made from the same dough, and they all taste the same. #Quote by Stephen Mitchell

#18. When the ball dropped in 1999, I was holding dough and champagne in my hands and holding my kids. #Quote by Method Man

#19. But then Oma tells me of bread, of the six hundred kinds made throughout her homeland, white and gray and black in color. Loaves heavy with pumpkin seeds. Pumpernickel. Rye. All with long, dense names like 'Sonnenblumenkernbrot' and 'Roggenmischbrot'. Each word is music to her. She has never eaten a tinned bread bagged in plastic with a little twist tie, a pride she wears all over. 'It matters,' she tells me. 'Wes Brot ich ess, des Lied ich sing.'
Whose bread I eat, his song I sing. #Quote by Christa Parrish

#20. She smelled like fresh dough rising. #Quote by Jodi Picoult

#21. He placed his coffee cup in the MKZ's fanncy cup holder and drove off. If the woman who sued McDonald's had an MKZ, she'd never have burned her crotch. Then again, she'd never have sued, and she would have all that dough. She could afford a Lincoln now. #Quote by Mark M. Bello

#22. A true god surely cannot have been born of a girl, nor died on the gibbet, nor be eaten in a piece of dough ... [or inspired] books, filled with contradictions, madness, and horror. #Quote by Voltaire

#23. Elle slammed the reindeer cookie cutter down and viciously yanked the extra dough from around it. Her mother, brother, and sisters all stopped to stare at her. "Whoa. Put the reindeer down gently and step away from Santa, #Quote by Kathleen Brooks

#24. Am I alone in this mother-food connection or does being with your mom trigger the sudden and voracious need for large amounts of mac & cheese, rice pudding, and the scraps along the side of a bowl of cookie dough? #Quote by April Paine

#25. I signed with the Milwaukee Braves for three-thousand dollars. That bothered my dad at the time because he didn't have that kind of dough. But he eventually scraped it up. #Quote by Bob Uecker

#26. The truth, when finally revealed, is sticky like wet dough. The majority of it stays in place as one handles it, but pieces break off and adhere, making certain facts seem larger, more portentous, than others. #Quote by Angela Flournoy

#27. Enthusiasm is the yeast that raises the dough. #Quote by Paul J. Meyer

#28. I'm no good with business, me. I'm the last person to ask when it comes to contracts and dough and all that. #Quote by Ozzy Osbourne

#29. Throughout human history, countries rise and fall. But not America
we continue to rise and rise, like dough, until Jesus bakes us in the fiery Afterscape of the Rapture. #Quote by Stephen Colbert

#30. That is raw dough. Never eat raw dough. They can make worms in your tummy. Worms in your tummy. #Quote by Ryan Stiles

#31. Nick tried a pastry. The lady at the café had called them 'farturas'.

(...)

-- but when Nico first heard 'fartura' he knew Percy would have made a joke out of the name.

'Ammerica has dough-nuts', Percy would have said. 'Portugal has fart-nuts. #Quote by Rick Riordan

#32. There are some parents who have really done it right and told their kid, 'You know, we have this dough, none of this is for you. You have to get your own.' #Quote by Robert Downey, Jr.

#33. resembling in his spectacles and nothing else (from the waist down the table concealed him; anyone entering the room would have taken him to be stark naked) a baroque effigy created out of colored cake dough by someone with a faintly nightmarish affinity for the perverse, #Quote by William Faulkner

#34. my thoughts have matured overnight, like dough left to rise which you find in the morning all puffed-up and sweet smelling . #Quote by Jean-Paul Didierlaurent

#35. Before the cook arrived when she stood in a space no wider than a bench is long, back behind and to the left of the milk cans. Working dough. Working, working dough. Nothing better than that to start the day's serious work of beating back the past. #Quote by Toni Morrison

#36. Clean your face," I said to the child. "It's dirty." "It's not," the child said. "By God it is," I said, "filth adheres in ine areas which I shall enumerate." "That is because of the dough," the child said. "We were taking death masks." "Dough!" I exclaimed, shocked at the idea that the child had wasted flour and water and no doubt paper too in this lightsome pastime, taking death masks. "Death!" I exclaimed for added emphasis. "What do you know of death?" "It is the end of the world," the child said, "for the death-visited individual. The world ends," the child said, "when you turn out your eyes." This was true, I could not dispute it. I returned to the main point. "Your father is telling you to wash your face," I said, locating myself in the abstract where I was more comfortable. #Quote by Donald Barthelme

#37. I know I'm the world's worst fielder, but who gets paid for fielding? There isn't a great fielder in baseball getting the kind of dough I get paid for hitting. #Quote by Dick Stuart

#38. Maybe you should go out and roll around with something besides dough." "Ha! #Quote by Kate Kisset

#39. Even more remote from his way of thinking, even more impossible than any other thought, would have been words such as this: "Is it only I alone who have created this experience, or is it objective reality? Does the Master have the same feelings as I, or would mine amuse him? Are my thoughts new, unique, my own, or have the Master and many before him experienced and thought exactly the same?" No, for him there were no such analyses and differentiations. Everything was reality, was steeped in reality, full of it as bread dough is of yeast. #Quote by Hermann Hesse

#40. Yes, I've made a great deal of dough from my fiction, but I never set a single word down on paper with the thought of being paid for it ... I have written because it fulfilled me ... I did it for the buzz. I did it for the pure joy of the thing. And if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever. #Quote by Stephen King

#41. Hadn't we said no kissing in the house?
Not that the rule had stopped us from kissing in the game room last night after we'd finished our ice cream.
"I'm still craving the flavor of chocolate chip cookie dough," he'd said.
So of course, I'd let him sample.
But it had been . . . stressful.
Because every time the house creaked, we were looking at the French doors expecting to see Dad standing there with a baseball bat in hand. #Quote by Rachel Hawthorne

#42. Nothing matters in this goddamned lunatic asylum of a world but dough. #Quote by William Lindsay Gresham

#43. Put your dough into the oven when it is hot:
After making sure that it is in fact dough. #Quote by Idries Shah

#44. Your tummy, soft as
warm dough. I knead and knead, then
bake it with a nap. #Quote by Lee Wardlaw

#45. My grandmother taught me how to make the basic pate brise pastry crust when I was young. The one thing I learned simply by eating her endless variations on delicious tarts for dinner every night is that this dough can be used for just about anything - sweet or savory. #Quote by Jean-Georges Vongerichten

#46. Manto's take on Ismat:
Ismat's pen and tongue both run fast. When she starts writing, her ideas race ahead and the words cannot catch up with them. When she speaks, her words seem to tumble over one another. If sheenters the kitchen to show her culinary skill, everything will be in a mess. Being hasty by nature, she would conjure up the cooked roti in her mind even before she had finished kneading the dough. The potatoes would note yet be peeled although she would have already finished making the curry in her imagination. I feel sometimes she may just go into the kitchen andcome out again afer being satiated by her imagination. #Quote by Saadat Hasan Manto

#47. Lawyers are alright, I guess - but it doesn't appeal to me", I said. "I mean they're alright if they go around saving innocent guys' lives all the time, and like that, but you don't do that kind of stuff if you're a lawyer. All you do is make a lot of dough and play golf and play bridge and buy cars and drink Martinis and look like a hot-shot. And besides, even if you did go around saving guys' lives and all, how would you know if you did it because you really wanted to save guys' lives, or because you did it because what you really wanted to do was be a terrific lawyer, with everybody slapping you on the back and congratulating you in court when the goddam trial was over, the reporters and everybody, the way it is in the dirty movies? How would you know you weren't being a phony? The trouble is you wouldn't. #Quote by J.D. Salinger

#48. I was in the mood for some savory scones- I couldn't eat only sweet things, no matter what Mrs. T said.
I cut cold butter into flour with my pastry blender, added minced sun-dried tomatoes, fresh Parmesan, salt and pepper, sprinkled in oregano, and then, on a whim, tossed in crushed fennel seeds. I mixed in an egg and some milk. I kneaded the dough a few times, cut out rounds, and plopped them on a cookie sheet. I brushed the tops with more milk and slid the sheet into the hot oven. #Quote by Rajani LaRocca

#49. After some experimentation, we put hot water in a measuring cup and dissolved the honeysuckle nectar by swirling the stems around.
When we were done with all the flowers, I tasted the golden liquid; it was sweet and fragrant. There wasn't much of the solution, though- we'd have to make a very small batch if we wanted the honeysuckle to be noticeable.
We measured out the dry ingredients and Vik whisked in a pinch of ground cloves while I creamed the butter with the sugar, and then added honey. We poured in the honeysuckle nectar and combined everything. Vik and I tasted the dough: it was sweet and spicy, the flavors in perfect harmony. #Quote by Rajani LaRocca

#50. Making steel may be compared to making a chappati. To make a good chappati, even a golden pin will not work unless the dough is good #Quote by J.R.D. Tata

#51. It's ironic how I drop some 'DOUGH' (Doh) when I got them Homer Simpsons. #Quote by Wale

#52. Sometimes I worry I don't want to get married as much as I'd like to be dipped in a vat of warm, rising bread dough. #Quote by Maria Bamford

#53. Molly was up now, sitting in the kitchen nursing the babies and instructing Mrs. Bienenstock on how to make biscuits. "Don't pound the dough, Dody!" Molly was crying with laughter. "You want to end up crackin' your teeth on 'em? Pat it gentle like it's a baby. That's better." Robert had only ever seen his landlady make coffee and eggs, and he did not think she would take kindly to being taught. But Mrs. B. seemed willing; she was smoothing out the biscuit dough into a round on the table. Neither woman even glanced over at him as he moved between the yard and the wagon with the pails. "Now, take this cup," Molly ordered, "and cut out some circles. Don't twist it! Twistin' seals the dough and it don't rise so well. Jest press and bring the cup back out. There now, put that on your sheet for bakin'." "We're #Quote by Tracy Chevalier

#54. I turned away from him, the hot blood still coursing through my veins. I gripped the door handle, and it molded like dough into the form of my hand. Not even caring, I wrenched the handle free from the door without turning it. It cracked loose of the solid oak door, sending splinters showering to the floor. My hand tossed the now crumpled piece of metal behind me with unexpected force. It zoomed across the room and embedded itself into the wood paneling with the end my hand had crushed sticking out to see. #Quote by Michael Corso

#55. Look here, because they were born you think they have to turn out to be men? That's just an old-fashioned idea. And who tells them that? A big organization. One more big organization. A big organization makes dough or it doesn't last. If it makes dough it's for dough. #Quote by Saul Bellow

#56. A novel rough draft is like bread dough; you need to beat the crap out of it for it to rise. #Quote by Chris Baty

#57. Cassava No man had touched her, but a boy-child grew in the belly of the chief's daughter. They called him Mani. A few days after birth he was already running and talking. From the forest's farthest corners people came to meet the prodigious Mani. Mani caught no disease, but on reaching the age of one, he said, "I'm going to die," and he died. A little time passed, and on Mani's grave sprouted a plant never before seen, which the mother watered every morning. The plant grew, flowered, and gave fruit. The birds that picked at it flew strangely, fluttering in mad spirals and singing like crazy. One day the ground where Mani lay split open. The chief thrust his hand in and pulled out a big, fleshy root. He grated it with a stone, made a dough, wrung it out, and with the warmth of the fire cooked bread for everyone. They called the root mani oca, "house of Mani," and manioc is its name in the Amazon basin and other places. (174) #Quote by Eduardo Galeano

#58. A farmer's got to be born, same as a fool. You can't make a corn pone out of flour dough by the twistin' of it. #Quote by Ellen Glasgow

#59. Before I opened my computer in the parking lot today, I relived one of my favorite memories. It's the one with Woody and me sitting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum after it's closed. We're watching people parade out of the museum in summer shorts and sandals. The trees to the south are planted in parallel lines. The water in the fountain shoots up with a mist that almost reaches the steps we sit on. We look at silver-haired ladies in red-and-white-print dresses. We separate the mice from the men, the tourists from the New Yorkers, the Upper East Siders from the West Siders. The hot-pretzel vendor sells us a wad of dough in knots with clumps of salt stuck on top. We make our usual remarks about the crazies and wonder what it would be like to live in a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooking the Met. We laugh and say the same things we always say. We hold hands and keep sitting, just sitting, as the sun beings to set. It's a perfect afternoon. #Quote by Diane Keaton

#60. When people tell me they are going to go scrapbooking, I say, 'Why don't you make it yourself.' It's like chocolate-chip cookies. People buy the cookie-dough roll and slice it, and then they lay it on a cookie sheet. That's not making chocolate-chip cookies. #Quote by Amy Sedaris

#61. Success is not just having all your heart desires, you may be financially capable, but you still reside in the apartment of failures if you don't give out some dough to those roaming the streets. #Quote by Michael Bassey Johnson

#62. We're living in a funny world kid, a peculiar civilization. The police are playing crooks in it, and the crooks are doing police duty. The politicians are preachers, and the preachers are politicians. The tax collectors collect for themselves. The Bad People want us to have more dough, and the good people are fighting to keep it from us. It's not good for us, know what I mean? If we had all we wanted to eat, we'd eat too much. We'd have inflation in the toilet paper industry. That's the way I understand it. That's about the size of some of the arguments I've heard. #Quote by Jim Thompson

#63. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. #Quote by William Shakespeare

#64. Churros are like long Mexican doughnut sticks that have been fried and dipped in cinnamon or, as the sign tells me, strawberry sugar. They smell like God's footprints. I've never had a real churro, but halfway down the promenade, I make a decision to give up on everything: finding Alex, finding another job, the meaning of life. Just give me that sweet fried dough. #Quote by Jenn Bennett

#65. I bake all the time, but I don't like to eat the cookies when they're done. I just like the dough. #Quote by Sharon Stone

#66. I'd always wanted to play an instrument myself, but my folks didn't have the dough to buy me one, and I didn't have the patience to learn anyway.
My attention span was five seconds. #Quote by Ozzy Osbourne

#67. And then there are the cravings.. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows.
She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn't dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained. #Quote by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

#68. She's like dough, how the give of it beneath kneading hands disguises its sturdiness, its potential. #Quote by Carmen Maria Machado

#69. I do wanna get married. It just sounds great. You get to go grocery shopping together, rent videos, and the kissing and the hugging and the kissing and the hugging under the cozy covers. Mmmm! But sometimes I worry that I don't wanna get married as much as I want to get dipped in a vat of warm, rising bread dough. That might feel pretty good, too. #Quote by Maria Bamford

#70. Figure our what it is you don't do very well, and then don't do it. I'm not beating myself up about doing everything perfectly. The litmus test I always use for myself is: "Okay, if you won 20 million tomorrow in the lottery would you still being doing the same thing you are doing now with your life, Dough? The answer is "yes". I'm always very conscious of that. #Quote by Douglas Coupland

#71. I will never say never, but I will say never to doing the more typical romantic comedies. You know, unless I'm getting audited and I'm on the street and I desperately need some dough and that's the only thing that I'm getting. #Quote by Christian Bale

#72. She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warm dough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Or maybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlic and nuts.
Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Something falling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted like heaven. #Quote by Susan Mallery

#73. At the dinner table when I was very little, I would hear people bickering ... To escape the bickering, I started modelling the soft bread with my fingers. With the dough of the French bread %u2013 sometimes it was still warm %u2013 I would make little figures. And I would line them up on the table and this was really my first sculpture. #Quote by Louise Bourgeois

#74. Even the air of this country has a story to tell about warfare. It is possible here to lift a piece of bread from a plate and following it back to its origins, collect a dozen stories concerning war-how it affected the hand that pulled it out of the oven, the hand that kneaded the dough, how war impinged upon the field where wheat was grown. #Quote by Nadeem Aslam

#75. I see my large nose, like half an avocado. I broke it falling downstairs when I was six, and it now resembles a large blob of play-dough. #Quote by Arthur Smith

#76. You think you're charging up that memory? Is that what you think? You are going to be so sorry when I dream about my experience of eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream yesterday. Now that was exciting. #Quote by Carolyn Crane

#77. First tweet, best tweet, I always think. I try not to work them too much or else they get Pie Dough Disease, which is where the dough has been to too much college and doesn't understand that it is dough anymore and refuses to be shaped. Pie Dough Disease! Poems get that too. #Quote by Patricia Lockwood

#78. I wanted to go home, whip up a batch of cookie dough, and eat it. All. #Quote by Kristen Ashley

#79. Sometimes life is hard ... so we have to squeeze it, touch it, play with it, and make it soft like a dough! Now it's soft enough to be shaped in any way we want! Keep moving, touching life, as this will keep it smooth and fun! #Quote by Karina Fonseca Azevedo

#80. For my part, I'd come for the textbook and was glad to have it. Betta's tortellini are now in my head and my hands. I follow her formula for the dough - an egg for every etto of flour, sneaking in an extra yolk if the mix doesn't look wet enough. I've learned to roll out a sheet until I see the grain of the wood underneath. I let it dry if I'm making tagliatelle; I keep it damp if I'm making tortellini. I make a small batch, roll out a sheet, then another, the rhythm of pasta, each movement like the last one. My mind empties. I think only of the task. Is the dough too sticky? Will it tear? Does the sheet, held between my fingers, feel right? But often I wonder what Betta would think, and, like that, I'm back in that valley with its broken-combed mountain tops and the wolves at night and the ever-present feeling that the world is so much bigger than you, and my mind becomes a jumble of associations, of aunts and a round table and laughter you can't hear anymore, and I am overcome by a feeling of loss. It is, I concluded, a side effect of this kind of food, one that's handed down from one generation to another, often in conditions of adversity, that you end up thinking of the dead, that the very stuff that sustains you tastes somehow of mortality. #Quote by Bill Buford

#81. The only gig I can remember playing in those very early days - and I think it was with Rare Breed, but it could have been under a different name, with different band members, 'cos line-ups changed so often back then - was the Birmingham Fire Station's Christmas party. The audience consisted of two firemen, a bucket and a ladder.

We made enough dough for half a shandy (beer mixed with lemonade), split six ways. #Quote by Ozzy Osbourne

#82. I found him in the kitchen, at the table in the bay window, already eating his cereal.
"I was going to fix you breakfast," I said.
He grinned. "I wouldn't want you to put yourself out."
"No one can pour cereal like I can. That's true."
I crossed the kitchen. He scooted his chair back, and I sat on his lap and put my arms on his shoulders.
"Good morning," I said, right before I kissed him.
Oh, yes, this was definitely the way to start the day.
"We're in the house," he said when we stopped kissing. "Thought we had a rule about not kissing in the house."
"Yeah, we also had a house rule--no falling for the player living with us. You see how good I am at following rules."
He grinned. "Lucky for me. Why don't you come to Ruby Tuesday for lunch?"
"Okay."
"Then practice."
"Definitely."
"Maybe we could do something afterward."
"Absolutely."
He kissed me again. He tasted like bran flakes and raisins and bananas.
Me, I tasted like chocolate chip cookie dough.
It was an odd combination but it somehow worked. #Quote by Rachel Hawthorne

#83. It is, of course, its essentially schizophrenic outlook on society that makes the middle classes such a peculiar mixture of yeast and dough. We tend nowadays to forget that it has always been the great revolutionary class; we see much more the doughy aspect, the bourgeoisie as the heartland of reaction, the universal insult, forever selfish and conforming. Now this Janus-like quality derives from the class's one saving virtue, which is this: that alone of the three great castes of society it sincerely and habitually despises itself. #Quote by John Fowles

#84. We need to stop focusing on people leaving earth and focus on, like Jesus said, the Kingdom of God is the yeast. Yeast invades dough. #Quote by Myles Munroe

#85. Don't be an asshole"
Rhage summed up the regurgitation with two words: "Kettle.Black."
Fucking hell. "Did you guys plan that out?"
"Yeah and if you don't fight us"- Hollywood bit down on the grape Tootsie Pop-"we'll do it again- only with the dance moves this time"
"Spare me."
"Fine.Unless you agree to home it,we WILL rock the dance moves." To prove the point ,the moron linked his palms behind his head and started doing something obscene with his hips. Which was backed up by a series of,"Uh-huh,uh-huh,ohhhh, yeeeeeeah,who's your daddy..."
The others looked at Rhage like he'd grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. Nothing unusual there. And Tohr knew that, in spite of this ridiculous diversion,if he didn't cave,the lot of them would crawl so far up his ass,he'd be coughing up shitkickers.
Rhage wheeled around,shoved out his butt,and started slapping his moneymaker like it was bread dough.
"For the love of the Virgin Scribe,"Z muttered "put us out of this misery, and go the fuck home"
Someone else chimed in, "You know, I never thought there were advantages to being blind..."
"Or deaf"
"Or mute," somebody added #Quote by J.R. Ward

#86. A pie dough comes together exactly like a biscuit only there is very, very little liquid and no leavening involved. Other than that, the same rules apply. My best advice: handle the dough as little as possible. #Quote by Alton Brown

#87. Can I hit it in the morning with out giving you have of my dough? #Quote by Jay-Z

#88. It's not that I'm complaining,' said Angua, 'but when we were assigned this job I thought it was me who was going to be the decoy and you who was going to be the back up, Nobby.'
'Yeah, but what with you bein' . . .' Nobby's expression creased as he edged his way into
unfamiliar linguistic territory, '... mor phor . . . log . . . is . . : ally gifted. . .'
'A werewolf, Nobby. I know the word.'
'Right . . . well, obviously, you'd be a lot better at lurkin', an' . . . an' obviously it's not right, women havin' to act as decoys in police work. . .'
Angua hesitated, as she so often did when attempting to talk to Nobby on difficult matters, and waved her hands in front of her as if trying to shape the invisible dough of her thoughts.
'It's just that . . . I mean, people might . . .' she began. 'I mean . . . well, you know what people call men who wear wigs and gowns, don't you?'
'Yes, miss.'
'You do?'
'Yes, miss. Lawyers, miss.'
'Good. Yes. Good,' said Angua slowly. 'Now try another one . . .'
'Er . . . actors, miss?'
Angua gave up. 'You look good in taffeta, Nobby,' she said.
'You don't think it makes me look too fat?'
Angua sniffed. 'Oh, no . . .' she said quietly. #Quote by Terry Pratchett

#89. I pointed to it.
"Yuca," Noah said.
I pointed to the dough balls.
"Fried plantains."
I pointed to a low bowl filled with what purported to be stew, but then Noah said, "Are you going to point, or are you going to eat? #Quote by Michelle Hodkin

#90. I keep notations, like my mother. She had notebook after notebook of trials and errors, all written in her perfect penmanship on quad-ruled pages, a square for each letter to nest in. My journal is a thick black hardcover with unlined pages. Like her, I'm a technician, a statistician, copiously documenting slight variations in texture, color, taste. I'm a chemist. A quarter cup of rye flour added to the white wheat gives a sweeter flavor. A half teaspoon more salt and 78 percent hydration of the dough result in those coveted large, irregular rooms in the crumb. Mastering formulas, not recipes, in the quest for the perfect loaf. Xavier tells me not to bother. He doesn't believe in perfection. "Forget the ingredients. Forget the environment. 'You' are different each day. You can't replicate yourself. Your hands are stronger, or weaker. Your mind thinks different thoughts while kneading. Life is all over you, changing you. All that goes into the making comes out in the bread. It won't be the same from one batch to the next. Not ever."
"It'll be close, though."
"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades."
He's the artist. He makes me brave enough to try. With his encouragement, I've focused on the creativity of bread, writing my own recipes, exploring nontraditional flavors and shapes. Not all of them turn out well, but he tastes my failures with me, with layers of warm butter. #Quote by Christa Parrish

#91. I'd attended a selective liberal arts college, trained at respectable research institutions, and even completed a dissertation for a doctoral degree. In our shared office, I'd tell new hires I was ABD, so they wouldn't feel their own situation was so bleak. If they saw a ten-year veteran adjunct with a PhD, they might lose hope of securing a permanent job. It was the least I could do, as a good American, to remind the young we were an innocent and optimistic country where everyone was entitled to a fulfilling career. To make sure they understood that PhD stood not for "piled higher and deeper" or "Pop has dough," but in fact the degree meant "professional happiness desired," and at the altruistic colleges of democratic America only the angry or sad ones need not apply. #Quote by Alex Kudera

#92. I am bit sending messages with my feet. All I ever wanted was not to come up empty. I did it for the dough and the old applause. #Quote by Fred Astaire

#93. I eat only white foods: eggs, sugar, grated bones, the fat of dead animals; veal, salt, coconut, chicken cooked in white water; fruit mold, rice, turnips; camphorated sausage, dough, cheese (white), cotton salad, and certain fish (skinless). #Quote by Erik Satie

#94. I ain't gonna pay no dollar for a corn muffin that's half dough. #Quote by Kevin Kling

#95. Since you are not a prophet, follow the way taught by prophets.
Since you are not a king, be a loyal subject to The King.
Since you are not a captain, do not take the helm of the ship.
Since you do not possess every skill, have partners in your business.
Be as pliant as dough in the hands of others, that you may rise well. #Quote by Rumi

#96. At the wedding, women served a dish of cabbage that had been shredded by wooden kraut cutters, mixed with ground pork and onion, wrapped in bread dough, and baked. #Quote by Timothy Egan

#97. They knew they were like two grains of yeast in a sea of lethargic dough - two grains of salt in a vast tureen of insipid broth. #Quote by John Fowles

#98. Steadily, the room shrank, till the book thief could touch the shelves within a few small steps. She ran the back of her hand along the first shelf, listening to the shuffle of her fingernails gliding across the spinal cord of each book. It sounded like an instrument, or the notes of running feet. She used both hands. She raced them. One shelf against the other. And she laughed. Her voice was sprawled out, high in her throat, and when she eventually stopped and stood in the middle of the room, she spent many minutes looking from the shelves to her fingers and back again.

How many books had she touched?

How many had she felt?

She walked over and did it again, this time much slower, with her hand facing forward, allowing the dough of her palm to feel the small hurdle of each book. It felt like magic, like beauty, as bright lines of light shone down from a chandelier. Several times, she almost pulled a title from its place but didn't dare disturb them. They were too perfect. #Quote by Markus Zusak

#99. I love raw cookie dough, right out of the tube. The other thing I eat is marshmallow fluff. #Quote by Sandra Bullock

#100. Black is beautiful .Black isn't power. Knowledge is power. You can be black as a crow or white as snow but if you don't know and you ain't got no dough, you can't go and that's for sho'. #Quote by Lewis H. Michaux

#101. Whenever you brown butter, some of it is lost - water evaporates, milk solids fall to the bottom of the pan, that kind of thing. It's possible that in browning the butter you ended up making the dough with too little butter. #Quote by Dorie Greenspan

#102. I like having the dough to come and go as I please. #Quote by Bruce Willis

#103. Based on my own experience, I believe the brain is as soft and malleable as bread dough when we're young. I am grateful for every class trip to the symphony I went on and curse any night I was allowed to watch The Brady Bunch, because all of it stuck. Conversely, I am now capable of forgetting entire novels that I've read, and I've been influenced not at all by books I passionately love and would kill to be influenced by. Think about this before you let your child have an iPad. #Quote by Ann Patchett

#104. Her body was all soft and white like flour dough. He seemed to fit perfectly inside her. Physically it just felt right, and he understood why people did insane things for sexual reasons then. #Quote by Sally Rooney

#105. Permission Granted"

You do not have to choose the bruised peach
or misshapen pepper others pass over.
You don't have to bury
your grandmother's keys underneath
her camellia bush as the will states.

You don't need to write a poem about
your grandfather coughing up his lung
into that plastic tube - the machine's wheezing
almost masking the kvetching sisters
in their Brooklyn kitchen.

You can let the crows amaze your son
without your translation of their cries.
You can lie so long under this
summer shower your imprint
will be left when you rise.

You can be stupid and simple as a heifer.
Cook plum and apple turnovers in the nude.
Revel in the flight of birds without
dreaming of flight. Remember the taste of
raw dough in your mouth as you edged a pie.

Feel the skin on things vibrate. Attune
yourself. Close your eyes. Hum.
Each beat of the world's pulse demands
only that you feel it. No thoughts.
Just the single syllable: Yes ...

See the homeless woman following
the tunings of a dead composer?
She closes her eyes and sways
with the subways. Follow her down,
inside, where the singing resides. #Quote by David Allen Sullivan

#106. I'm from where the real hustlers pile dough, the home of Rich Rich Porter, Azie, Alpo ... #Quote by Big L

#107. As a lobbyist he had long ago concluded there was no difference in how Democrats and Republicans conducted the business of government. The game stayed the same: It was always about favors and friends, and who controlled the dough. Party labels were merely a way to keep track of the teams; issues were mostly smoke and vaudeville. Nobody believed in anything except hanging on to power, whatever it took ... #Quote by Carl Hiaasen

#108. That year it seemed to me that I expanded like pizza dough. #Quote by Elena Ferrante

#109. Never in a million years did I think I'd end up making a career out of singing. I didn't think it was possible. As far as I knew, the only way I could make any dough was to go and work in a factory, like everyone else in Aston.
Or rob a f**king bank. #Quote by Ozzy Osbourne

#110. The role of the schoolmaster is to collect little plastic lumps of human dough from private households and shape them on the social kneading board. #Quote by Edward Alsworth Ross

#111. The recipe says 'stir until the dough holds together'. You'll have a better chance of finding the fountain of youth than stirring this batter. #Quote by Kristen Ashley

#112. Creep" I said, cutting to the heart of the matter. - Stephanie
"Gosh, I wonder who this could be."
- Morelli
"You lied to me. I knew it too. I knew right from the beginning, you jerk."
Silence stretched taut between us, and I realized my accusation covered a lot of territory, so I narrowed the field.
"I want to knew about this big secret case you're working on, and I want to know how it ties in to Kenny Mancuso and Moogey Bues." - Stephanie
"Oh" Morelli said. "That lie " - Morelli
"Well?" - Stephanie
"I cant tell you anything about that lie" - Morelli
-Two For The Dough #Quote by Janet Evanovich

#113. Within five minutes of leaving the reunion, I'd undone the double wrapping and eaten all six rugelach, each a snail of sugar-dusted pastry dough, the cinnamon-lined chambers microscopically studded with midget raisins and chopped walnuts. By rapidly devouring mouthful after mouthful of these crumbs whose floury richness - blended of butter and sour cream and vanilla and cream cheese and egg yolk and sugar - I'd loved since childhood, perhaps I'd find vanishing from Nathan what, according to Proust, vanished from Marcel the instant he recognized "the savour of the little madeleine": the apprehensiveness of death. "A mere taste," Proust writes, and "the word 'death' ... [has] ... no meaning for him." So, greedily I ate, gluttonously, refusing to curtail for a moment this wolfish intake of saturated fat, but, in the end, having nothing like Marcel's luck. #Quote by Philip Roth

#114. Ideas are like pizza dough, made to be tossed around. #Quote by Anna Quindlen

#115. [There's a] point where you have to leave the dough alone. It's silly to anthropomorphize bread, but I love the fact that it needs to sit quietly, to retreat from touch and noise and drama, in order to evolve.
I have to admit, I often feel that way myself. #Quote by Jodi Picoult

#116. Can a dead buck with good insurance make a little dough? #Quote by Stephen King

#117. Marry, don't marry,' Auntie Aya says as we unfold layers of dough to make an apple strudel.
Just don't have your babies unless it's absolutely necessary.'
How do I know if it's necessary?'
She stops and stares ahead, her hands gloved in flour. 'Ask yourself, Do I want a baby or do I want to make a cake? The answer will come to you like bells ringing.' She flickers her fingers in the air by her ear. 'For me, almost always, the answer was cake. #Quote by Diana Abu-Jaber

#118. The kingdom is like a tiny mustard seed, he said, that grows into an enormous tree with branches wide and strong enough to make a home for all the birds. It is like a buried treasure, a delicious feast, or a net that catches an abundance of fish. The kingdom is right here, Jesus said. It is present and yet hidden, immanent yet transcendent. The kingdom isn't some far-off place you go when you die; the kingdom is at hand - among us and beyond us, now and not-yet. It is the wheat growing in the midst of weeds, the yeast working its magic in the dough, the pearl germinating in a sepulchral shell. It can come and go in the twinkling of an eye, Jesus said. So pay attention; don't miss it. #Quote by Rachel Held Evans

#119. I spent most of my dough on booze, broads and boats and the rest I wasted. #Quote by Elmore Leonard

#120. The Bible says forgive your debtors; the world says "sue them for their dough." #Quote by Billy Sunday

#121. It's not the cold that makes you sleep yourself to death in the Arctic, it's the smooth pallor of the landscape, and the desert has that same smooth pallor, though Arabic. It's the whiteness, the sameness of everything, that makes you fall asleep out of life, parched or frozen and so so comfortable when you finally let it roll over your mind, like a rolling-pin over dough. #Quote by Ann-Marie MacDonald

#122. We're going to make the best impression on the traveling public, and we're going to make a pile of extra dough just from being first. #Quote by C. R. Smith

#123. Muffin cups in my bakery were real sorcerer's apprentice material, like the dough for the cinnamon rolls every morning could have stood in for The Blob. #Quote by Robin McKinley

#124. She cannot think of such things and still function, and she has needed to function, and she has never wanted to be one of those women who won't let their children eat raw cookie dough or wander a block down the street without a chaperone, and you have to manage the terror or you can never watch your child walk out the front door. And here they are where death is shoving its bloody snout in their faces, and she has not considered it, not really, because she has some vague idea of what she will unleash if she does, the great gaping chasm that will open up. That is what you do when you have a child, isn't it, open yourself up to unimaginable pain and then try to pretend away the possibilities. #Quote by Gin Phillips

#125. I bit into the chocolate chip. Slowed myself down.
By then, almost a week in, I could sort through the assault of layers a little more quickly. The chocolate chips were from a factory, so they had that same slight metallic, absent taste to them, and the butter had been pulled from cows in pens, so the richness was not as full. The eggs were tinged with a hint of far away and plastic. All of those parts hummed in the distance, and then the baker, who'd mixed the batter and formed the dough, was angry. A tight anger, in the cookie itself. #Quote by Aimee Bender

#126. Becoming a dad means you get transformed from the healthy, vibrant, intelligent, youthful person pictured in your wedding photo into a twitching, bewildered, sleep-deprived, Play-Dough-smeared creature who looks like the guy in the photo on the post office wall, only less chipper. #Quote by David Meurer

#127. So I told him his bread was ugly, and he called me a dough diva. A dough diva. Of all the nerve! We're going out on Saturday. #Quote by Sarah Addison Allen

#128. Households that have lost the soul of cooking from their routines may not know what they are missing: the song of a stir-fry sizzle, the small talk of clinking measuring spoons, the yeasty scent of rising dough, the painting of flavors onto a pizza before it slides into the oven. #Quote by Barbara Kingsolver

#129. Imagine my delight and awe when I discovered such a thing was a real genre - contemporary fantasy or urban fantasy. It was like having my birthday twice in one week and cookie dough for breakfast. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#130. Her hand is close to my arm. My options are limited. I can't run away. I can't handle this.
I lose myself in food.
The rich, wet texture of melting chocolate. The way good aged goat cheese coats your tongue. The silky feel of pasta dough when it's been pressed and rested just enough. How the scent of onions changes, over an hour, from raw to mellow, sharp to sweet, and all that even without tasting. The simplest magic: how heat transforms. #Quote by Jael McHenry

#131. And to the flour
add water, only
a thin stream whispering gathered
rains of a reticent winter.

And to the flour add oil, only
a glistening thread snaking through
ridges and ravines of what
sifts through your fingers,
what sinks, moist and burdened
between your palms.

And in the kneading
hinge forward, let the weight
of what you carry on your shoulders,
the luster of your language, shade
of your story press into the dough.

And to the dough bring
the signature of your fingertips, stretch
the canvas before you, summer linen
of wheat and autumn velvet of olive oil,
smooth like a map
of silence and fragrance,
of invisible terrains of memory. #Quote by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha

#132. My secret skill is baking bread. My mother was a farmer's daughter and still made bread every day when I was a child. She would have me knead the dough when I got home from school. #Quote by Richard Flanagan

#133. We passed one couple who were practically horizontal over the pier railing. They didn't stop. I bit my lip as we passed, trying to ignore the ache flowering in my lower belly. It had been humming there all night.
"Remember when that was us?"
Eric was watching the same couple with…was that longing in his gray eyes? He chewed absently on his lower lip for a minute and squeezed my hand a little harder.
"A bit, yeah," I said. "We had a little more style, though. You were never one for PDA, to start."
"I had you in that alley in Allston once. Behind the bakery, remember?"
"Had me? What am I, a pastry?"
The right side of his full mouth tugged up in a smirk. "What do you want me to say? I pounded you like bread dough?"
"I believe the term is 'fucked,' sir," I proclaimed. "It was a shag fest. #Quote by Nicole French

#134. A pig in a blanket is a hot dog wrapped in a dough and baked. #Quote by N.D. Wilson

#135. MTV made a huge impact. Heavy rotation took you from selling 1m albums to 20m albums, and that meant a lot of dough. #Quote by Ozzy Osbourne

#136. I feel like dough, being kneaded and reshaped again and again. #Quote by Suzanne Collins

#137. The boy was there too, stumbling through the living room horde and passing out magic mushrooms from a paper bag. His eyeballs sparkled inside gaping, play-dough sockets while his limbs hung gaunt and exhausted from eight straight days of self-medicating fear. Another boy in a black tee pinched some mushroom flakes from his bag, nodded his thanks, and mouthed the word "bro" like blowing a man kiss. #Quote by Jake Vander-Ark

#138. I have a wedge of Brie and some crackers in the pantry, and I could slice a pear or an apple and drizzle the fruit with some orange blossom honey. That always makes a nice accompaniment for cheese. I've got some olives, too, Lucques. I wonder if I have time to make cheese sticks. I use store-bought puff pastry, roll it out, sprinkle it with salt and red pepper flakes and grated Parmesan, then cut the dough into strips, twist them, and bake. They are particularly delicious with a glass of Champagne, especially when you serve the cheese sticks warm. #Quote by Susan Rebecca White

#139. I don't see my artist friends as any more neurotic or addiction-prone than the others. The roommates I have had who were into triathlons or environmentalism were just as crazy as the poets, just as prone to tears over gardening or air conditioners, just as ready to kite a cheque or binge on cookie dough. #Quote by Russell Smith

#140. I have very vivid memories of being a young child. My mother would create dinner as for us, and when she would bake, she would leave some dough for me. I would roll the dough into little sticks while she was cooking the apple tart of whatever. I was looking through the window of the oven and flipping the light, and then my bread would come out, and it was inedible, of course. #Quote by Eric Ripert

#141. Billingsly castle was holding its breath. Thunderheads rolled in from the hills, thick and white and folding over like biscuit dough, bubbling, boiling magenta along the edges where the skillet was the hottest. #Quote by Lauren Gilley

#142. However, on glimpsing in shop window realized outfit insane. Now am on bus, remember also that corset-ike nature of dress is torture when sitting down. One's rolls of fat are squezzed together like dough being kneaded in a food processor. #Quote by Helen Fielding

#143. It's my dough, my show, and I'm not going to pay someone to make me look like an idiot. #Quote by Meili Cady

#144. I have noticed bakers with swelled hands, and painful, too; in fact the hands of all such workers become much thickened by the constant pressure of kneading the dough. #Quote by Bernardino Ramazzini

#145. In Park Slope, even the play dough was whole grain. #Quote by Sarah Pinneo

#146. Don't allow anyone to pressure you into taking a job in a field that doesn't feel right in your gut. You are the one who has to live your life every day, so make sure you're happy with the choices you make. Once you identify the plan that's right for you, pursue it wholeheartedly. Then, whether you're raking in dough or you're a full-time mom with a baby in tow, you will be happy.
#Quote by Alison James

#147. Sometimes these spirits have been more real to me than people, more real than God. They fill silence with their weight, dense and warm, like bread dough rising under cloth. #Quote by Christina Baker Kline

#148. What makes good bread? It is a question of good flour and slow fermentation. In the old days we used to leave the dough to ferment for at least three or four hours, and it wasn't necessary to put chemicals into the dough. Today the farmers get much bigger crops from the same piece of ground, but the wheat has lost its taste. And to make it look nice and white - comme un cadavre - the millers grind it up fine and sift it, so you are left with very little except starch. #Quote by John Hillaby

#149. My shape reminds me a lot of my grandmother, whom I was really close to. She died when I was 13, and we have a really similar body type, the squat New England woman who can roll out dough and bring in your lawnmower. That's kind of the vibe of my body, and I'm into it. #Quote by Lena Dunham

#150. All those posters and PSAs and health class presentations on body image and the way you can burst blood vessels in your face and rupture your esophagus if you can't stop ramming those sno balls down your throat every night, knowing they'll have to come back up again, you sad weak girl.
Because of all this, Coach surely can't tell a girl, a sensitive, body-conscious teenage girl, to get rid of the tender little tuck around her waist, can she?
She can.
Coach can say anything.

And there's Emily, keening over the toilet bowl after practice, begging me to kick her in the gut so she can expel the rest, all that cookie dough and cool ranch, the smell making me roil. Emily, a girl made entirely of donut sticks, cheese powder, and haribo.
I kick, I do.
She would do the same for me. #Quote by Megan Abbott

#151. I struggle to listen, to sit, and to study-
I would rather play and create art with my brushes and putty.

I wish I could focus on things that I know-
Like cars, Mars, and playing with dough. #Quote by Brenda Lochinger

#152. Life can be wonderful if you're not afraid of it. All it takes is courage, imagination ... and a little dough #Quote by Charlie Chaplin

#153. You know Pastor, baking is a real art. Especially bread baking. There is something so divine about it. It is a pure alchemy. And all alchemical elements are there: flour that comes from the earth and represents material, water that you mix with flour to make the dough, air released by the yeast fermentation that makes dough rise, fire that bakes the bread. It is fantastic. And the aroma of hot bread released during baking is the most pleasant fragrance for our senses. Think about that for a moment, Pastor. Any food aroma that we like, no matter how much we like it, gets overwhelming after a while, and we open the kitchen windows and close kitchen doors so the smell doesn't get into the living room. Any smell, but the smell of freshly baked bread. Did you ever hear anybody complain about the smell of baked bread? Nobody, Pastor! Nobody. You hear people complaining about their neighbors frying fish, roasting pork, barbecuing sausages, but nobody ever complains about the smell of baked bread. And you know why? Because it is divine. It is magic – the magic of the craft. #Quote by Stevan V. Nikolic

#154. If you have a lot of what people want and can't get, then you can supply the demand and shovel in the dough. #Quote by Lucky Luciano

#155. And yeah, put out as I can be with Mama 'bout a lotta things, I gotta admit she gets all the credit for getting me interested in cooking when I was just knee-high to a grasshopper. Gladys never seemed to give a damn about it when we were kids, which I guess is why she and that family of hers nourish themselves today mainly on KFC and Whoppers and junk like that. But me, I couldn't keep my eyes off Mama when she'd fix a mess of short ribs, or cut out perfect rounds of buttermilk biscuit dough with a juice glass, or spread a thick, real shiny caramel icing over her 1-2-3-4 cakes. And I can remember like it was yesterday (must have been about 4 years old at the time) when she first let me help her bake cookies, especially the same jelly treats I still make today and could eat by the dozen if I didn't now have better control.
"Honey, start opening those jars on the counter," she said while she creamed butter and sugar with her Sunbeam electric hand mixer in the same wide, chipped bowl she used to make for biscuit dough. Strawberry, peach, and mint- the flavors never varied for Mama's jelly treats, and just the idea of making these cookies with anything but jelly and jam she'd put up herself the year before would have been inconceivable to Mama. #Quote by James Villas

#156. It's the combination of walnut and chocolate. You mix that together and it's like an explosion of sex in your mouth, but not as messy. The only thing better would be those teeny tiny Reese's Cups. When the dough is warm, you plop those suckers in ... . Anyway, you just need to try it. Take a small bite. #Quote by J. Lynn

#157. She forced herself to stand again, though her legs were no stronger than unbaked dough. #Quote by Marissa Meyer

#158. I've been thinking lately of our pizza nights. Dough from scratch, sauce from scratch, cheese from…well, from the store. Not goin' that far. I loved the making of bread, the dough for the crust. Flour and water in your hands, first separate and then merging into a silky whole. The yeast and gluten making it a living thing. It moves when you poke it. It breathes into your hands. Our hands covered in flour, we open a bottle of wine, and we eat the pizza we made, and…we just watch whatever's on TV and fall asleep in a wine and bread coma.

I think love is cooking together. I think it's making something with each other, that's what I think, Alice. I don't know what you think. Turns out that I didn't know what you were thinking at all. #Quote by Alice Isn't Dead

#159. Bullying someone is like cake dough, it shrivels up in the oven if you open the door before it is fully baked. #Quote by Mitch Kynock

#160. Hold her arm out. I grabbed the body's right arm and pulled it straight. Rigor mortis makes a body so stiff you can barely move it, but it only lasts about a day and a half and this one had been dead so long the muscles had all relaxed again. Though the skin was papery, the flesh underneath was soft, like dough. Margaret sprayed the arm with disinfectant and began wiping it gently with a cloth. #Quote by Dan Wells

#161. Lying between the sheets, she felt different; her body had turned into bread dough, dough that's been kneaded and pounded till it's grey, lumpen, no yeast in it, no lightness, no prospect of rising. Her arms lay stiff by her sides. When, finally, she drifted off to sleep, she dreamt she was on her knees in a corner of the room, trying to vomit without attracting the attention of the person who was asleep on the bed. Her eyes wide open in the darkness, she tried to cast off the dream, but it stayed with her till morning. #Quote by Pat Barker

#162. I want a girl who looks good when she wakes up in the morning. We could take her face and dip it in dough and she'll make some nice-face cookies. Some girls wake up, man, you could put their face in dough and you'll get a gorilla cookie, for real! #Quote by Flavor Flav

#163. It's me, you fool. Who do you think it is? I'm coming in."
He was already naked. She turned away from him as he slipped in by her side but he caught her in his arms and felt her body thaw his belly and thighs. That was all, just to lie there listening to the breathing and the silence and feel the warmth colour his belly and thighs and head. She never wore clothes in bed. They were naked and the warmth run out of her. He wanted to laugh, because it was such a marvelous discovery to make, this warmth. She was hissing like a snake.
"No, it's wrong." She went on hissing.
She brought an elbow back smartly and struck him in the paunch. She seemed all elbows, shoulder blades and heels. It was like trying to make love to a dough-mixing machine. She wanted it, didn't she, otherwise why all this hissing and moaning? #Quote by P.H. Newby

#164. Swine are held by the Egyptians to be unclean beasts. In the first place, if an Egyptian touches a hog in passing, he goes to the river and dips himself in it, clothed as he is; and in the second place, swineherds, though native born Egyptians, are alone of all men forbidden to enter any Egyptian temple; nor will any give a swineherd his daughter in marriage, nor take a wife from their women; but swineherds intermarry among themselves. [2] Nor do the Egyptians think it right to sacrifice swine to any god except the Moon and Dionysus; to these, they sacrifice their swine at the same time, in the same season of full moon; then they eat the meat. The Egyptians have an explanation of why they sacrifice swine at this festival, yet abominate them at others; I know it, but it is not fitting that I relate it. [3] But this is how they sacrifice swine to the Moon: the sacrificer lays the end of the tail and the spleen and the caul together and covers them up with all the fat that he finds around the belly, then consigns it all to the fire; as for the rest of the flesh, they eat it at the time of full moon when they sacrifice the victim; but they will not taste it on any other day. Poor men, with but slender means, mold swine out of dough, which they then take and sacrifice. (2:47) #Quote by Herodotus

#165. The name 'Boss' started with people that worked for me ... It was not meant like Boss, capital B, it was meant like 'Boss, where's my dough this week?' And it was sort of just a term among friends. I never really liked it. #Quote by Bruce Springsteen

#166. There is enough dough in the world to make bread for us all to eat together. #Quote by Habeeb Akande

#167. My lone silence has the quality of marshmallows, padded with sugary dough, but other people's silence is punctured with pointy, jagged blades. #Quote by Caitriona Lally

#168. Jesus of Nazareth is so entirely one of them they can hardly find anything special about him at all. He fits right in with the messy busyness of everyday life.

And it is here, in their midst, with their routines of fish and wine and bread, that he proclaims the kingdom of heaven.

The gospel, Jesus teaches, is in the yeast, as a woman kneads it with her bare hands into the cool, pungent dough. It is in the soil, so warm and moist when freshly turned by muscular arms and backs. It is in the tiny seeds of mustard and wheat, painstakingly saved and dried from last season's harvest...

Jesus placed the gospel in these tactile things, with all the grit of life surrounding him, because it is through all this touching, tasting, and smelling that his own sheep- his beloved, hardworking, human flock- know. And it is through these most mundane, touchable, smellable, tasteable pieces of commonplace existence that he shows them, and us, to find God and know him.

Jesus delivered the good news in a rough, messy, hands-on package of donkeys and dusty roads, bleeding women and lepers, water from the well, and wine from the water. Holy work in the world has always been like this: messy, earthy, physical, touchable. #Quote by Catherine McNiel

#169. Rising thermals gyre silently over sun-soaked fields. I watch them strike the frigid currents arcing down from the north. Splashes of ice crystals mark each impact point. These intermingle and shred, then regroup again until the grow smooth and white and pliant like kneaded dough. My mind soars up through the lace of nascent clouds, past deeper shoals of stratus, accelerating steadily as the molecules spread apart, until it reaches the deepest pools of sky, the place where mares' tails flick and trail. #Quote by Ann Batterson

#170. Like a handful of nickels in a batch of bread dough this could be kneaded from place to place but never removed. #Quote by Neal Stephenson

#171. Side by side with the human race there runs another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, goaded by unknown impulses, take the lifeless mass of humanity and by the fever and ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the bread into wine and the wine into song. #Quote by Henry Miller

#172. The FDA is now warning people not to eat raw cookie dough this holiday season. Is that how fat we're getting in this country? Our ovens are too slow now? #Quote by Jay Leno

#173. If you've got your health, you can always make some money. But all the dough in the world can't buy back your health. Isn't it clear that the person who compromises his health in the name of making money is cutting himself a really lousy deal? #Quote by Peter Barton

#174. By now you will not be surprised to learn that Gaston Bachelard had a few things to say about the element of air. In a book called "Air and Dreams". he points out that we categorize many of our emotions by their relative weight; they make us feel heavier or lighter. Perhaps because uprightness is the human quality, we imagine human emotions arranged on a vertical scale from ground to sky. So sadness is weighed down and earthbound. joy is aerial, and the sensation of freedom defies the bonds of gravity. "Air," Bachelard writes, "is the very substance of our freedom, the substance of superhuman joy." Elation, effervescence, elevation, levity, inspiration: air words all, alveolated with vowels, leavening the dough of everyday life. #Quote by Michael Pollan

#175. Mamá was mixing bread dough by the kitchen window, pressing and pulling in a culinary tug of war. It took all her strength to mix four loaves at once, flour up to her elbows, tendrils of hair escaping from her bun, but it hardly made sense to do less. Her good bread disappeared as fast as she made it. Why, her family could hammer away a whole loaf in one sitting. Mamá smiled, then crossed herself against the sin of pride.
Modesta was always saying, "That's too much work! Why not just buy a loaf at the store?"
Those sickly soft things they call bread? Mamá snorted as she slapped her dough. It was a sin to call such cotton bread! Her bread could stand up to thick bacon sandwiches and homemade blackberry jam. Hers melted in your mouth like cake. Indeed, after supper Father often buttered a big slice for dessert.
At the thought of her husband, Mamá crossed herself again, this time not for pride, but for love. Everything she did was done for him. She meant to work for God, to make her life a prayer, but since the first time she saw Manuel, long before they were married, his was the face she pictured as she wiped her brow, bent her back to the task at hand. She shrugged. Perhaps her daughters would do better... #Quote by Tess Almend

#176. I, like, added curry spices to the tomatoes and then firmed it with sodium alginate.
Then there's the mousse I made with powdered, freeze-dried foie gras blended with turmeric. The white dollop in the middle is a puree of potatoes and six different types of cheese.
Once your mouth has thoroughly cooled from those items, you should totally try the piecrust arches.
Oh! I flash froze it first, so it should have a very light, fluffy texture.
I kneaded coriander and a few other select spices into the pie dough. It'll cleanse your palate and give your tongue a break.
This dish is all about "Thermal Sense," y'know.
Molecular gastronomy teaches about the various contrasting temperature sensations foods and spices have.
I took those theories and put them together into a single dish. #Quote by Yuto Tsukuda

#177. Not using that handy maxim a man is what he makes his dough at and alas how much. Sometimes it is a gentle gesture to remind people of their big time possibilities. Makes them like you. #Quote by J.P. Donleavy

#178. You're in the democratic West now, lady. Anybody's as good as anybody else as long as he's got the dough to prove it. #Quote by Leslie Ford

#179. Bread, cash, dosh, dough, loot, lucre, moolah, readies, the where-withal: call it what you like, money matters. #Quote by Niall Ferguson

#180. There's an analogy I came up with once for an interviewer who asked me how much of my material was autobiographical," Octavia says. "I said that the life experience of a fiction writer is like butter in cookie dough: it's a crucial part of flavor and texture - you certainly couldn't leave it out - but if you've done it right, it can't be discerned as a separate element. There shouldn't be a place that anyone can point to and say, There--she's talking about her miscarriage, or Look--he wrote that because his wife had an affair #Quote by Carolyn Parkhurst

#181. Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was young. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles. Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful. O yes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ay, very like a whale. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once ...

The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man's ashes. He coasted them, walking warily. A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human #Quote by James Joyce

#182. The Big L was cold crazy, A top-notch crook snatchin' pocket books from old ladies I told him, "Give up the dough, before you get smoked! Oh you broke? ( *shots* ) Now you're dead broke" My name is L and I'm from a part of town where clowns, Get beat down and all you hear is gunshot sounds 'Cause at nighttime niggas try to tax, they're sneakier than alley cats, that's why I carry gats #Quote by Big L

#183. If there is no happy ending. Make one out of cookie dough. #Quote by Cooper Edens

#184. God made yeast, as well as dough, and loves fermentation just as dearly as he loves vegetation. #Quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson

#185. In Oklahoma, the CEO of the company that makes McDonald's apple pies told me that she had trouble finding enough Americans to handle modern factory jobs-during a recession. The days of rolling out dough and packing pies in a box were over. She needed people who could read, solve problems and communicate what had happened on their shift, and there weren't enough of them coming out of Oklahoma's high schools and community colleges. #Quote by Amanda Ripley

#186. Compared to a novel, a film is like an economy pizza where there are no olives, no ham, no anchovies, no mushrooms, and all you've got is the dough. #Quote by Louis De Bernieres

#187. To fix and make plausible, the nebulous emotions of my costumed heroins, like diamonds on a sea of dough. #Quote by Margaret Atwood

#188. Strugglin' and striving, that's how the dough come. #Quote by Tupac Shakur

#189. My son's got the I.Q. Of a robot but I don't have the dough to send him to school. #Quote by Jonathan Dunne

#190. For the weekend before, we had had a blowout of tarts, a tart bender, tart madness- even, I dare say, a Tart-a-pa-looza, if you will forgive one final usage of the construction before we at last bury that cruelly beaten dead pop-culture horse. Tarte aux Pêches, Tarte aux Limettes, Tarte aux Poires, Tarte aux Cerises. Tarte aux Fromage Frais, both with and without Pruneaux. Tarte aux Citron et aux Amandes, Tarte aux Poires à la Bourdalue, and Tarte aux Fraises, which is not "Tart with Freshes," as the name of the Tarte aux Fromage Frais ("Tart with Fresh Cheese," of course) might suggest, but rather Tart with Strawberries, which was a fine little French lesson. (Why are strawberries, in particular, named for freshness? Why not blackberries? Or say, river trout? I love playing amateur- not to say totally ignorant- etymologist....)
I made two kinds of pastry in a kitchen so hot that, even with the aid of a food processor, the butter started melting before I could get it incorporated into the dough. Which work resulted in eight tart crusts, perhaps not paragons of the form, but good enough. I made eight fillings for my eight tart crusts. I creamed butter and broke eggs and beat batter until it formed "the ribbon." I poached pears and cherries and plums in red wine. #Quote by Julie Powell

#191. If it was all about me, I'd do a whole lot of pop records, make a whole lot of money, just rake in the dough. But it's never been all about me. It's all about being a voice for the voiceless. People who can't speak for themselves, who don't have a mic, don't have a say. #Quote by Ice Cube

#192. I'm making a galette instead of a tart," Sam said.
"Fancy," Deana said.
"Actually, it's not," Sam said. "It's more rustic. More fitting of Michigan, I thought."
Willo pulled three mugs- all mismatched- from her cupboard and poured three cups of coffee.
"In school, I learned that a galette is sort of the offspring of a pie and a tart- halfway between homespun and fancy- but easier to make than its parents. The biggest difference is that a galette is a free-form pastry, baked without a pie pan or tart ring. It's rustic. And it's forgiving. You just roll it out flat and then fold it in roughly around the filling." Sam stopped and sipped her coffee. "The wonderful thing is that you can't mess it up; the crust will tear and be a little more done in places, the juices will leak, but as long as you use really fresh ingredients, like the fruit we have here, and real butter for the dough, it bakes into something magical. Making a galette really gave me confidence to try trickier desserts. But it's still one of my favorites. And you can make sweet or savory galettes. I made two crusts today. I thought I'd turn one into a savory galette for dinner. I have a recipe for an asparagus, mushroom, goat cheese, and bacon galette I think I'll make."
Sam looked at her mom and grandma, who were staring at her openmouthed. "I never realized how accomplished you were," Deana said. "But I knew you had- what did we call it, Mom?"
"The gift," Willo said. "You've always ha #Quote by Viola Shipman

#193. The gh at the end of many modern words, however, like dough, cough, and trough, is actually an artifact not of Dutch orthographic tendencies, but of Norman distaste for the Middle English letter yogh, which looked like this: 3. Yogh fell out of use around the end of the fifteenth century. #Quote by David Wolman

#194. Jason bitch slapped his hand away with the dough. #Quote by R.L. Mathewson

#195. I'm going to let that slide because you seemed to have been in the middle of being eaten by a monster." He was clutching his midsection as if from pain, the squashed remnants of a soft brown cookie squeezing between his fingers as though dough from a pasta machine. #Quote by BMB Johnson

#196. They fell to, on the ground. You've seen a baker
rolling dough. He kneads it gently at first,
then more roughly. He pounds it on the board.
It softly groans under his palms.

Now he spreads
it out and rolls it flat. Then he bunches it,
and rolls it all the way out again,

thin.
Now he adds water and mixes it well.

Now salt,
and a little more salt. Now he shapes itdelicately to its final shape and slides itinto the oven, which is already hot.
You remember breadmaking!

This is how your desire
tangles with a desired one.

And it's not justa metaphor for a man and a woman making love.
Warriors in battle do this too.

A great mutual embrace
is always happening between the eternal
and what dies, between essence and accident. #Quote by Jalaluddin Rumi

#197. We were lucky to get Sam Jackson and Jeremy Irons and John McTiernan back. Long movie and hard movie to make and difficult for me because instead of working, my biggest concern was not repeating things I had done it in the previous films. And it rang notes in my head of episodic TV. A sequel is not a new movie; it's a chapter in a movie that you have already seen. Thank god Sam was there and thank god Jeremy was there. Again, it went outside the template of that series of films but it did well and made a ton of dough and the third chapter of a lot of sequels is always the one that falls down. #Quote by Bruce Willis

#198. All families had their special Christmas food. Ours was called Dutch Bread, made from a dough halfway between bread and cake, stuffed with citron and every sort of nut from the farm - hazel, black walnut, hickory, butternut. #Quote by Paul Engle

#199. When he stumbles in the trench / his hands cut into mud like dough. / Surrounded by puddles, rats, lice." -- The Baker Signed up, 1914 #Quote by Alex Boyd

#200. Making pizza is a great job. All that kneading the dough - everything to do with cooking is wonderful, sensual. #Quote by Claire Denis