A Quote by Catherine Helen Spence

A glass of whisky in Scotland in the thirties cost less than a cup of tea. — © Catherine Helen Spence
A glass of whisky in Scotland in the thirties cost less than a cup of tea.
I prefer to drink two glasses of water and then a nice hot cup of tea. My favourite tea is a mixture of Darjeeling tea. My breakfast consists of a glass of fresh orange juice and a slice of toast.
I told her tea bags were just a convenience for people with busy lives and she said no one is so busy they can't take time to make a decent cup of tea and if you are that busy you don't deserve a decent cup of tea for what is it all about anyway? Are we put into this world to be busy or to chat over a nice cup of tea?
In Britain, a cup of tea is the answer to every problem. Fallen off your bicycle? Nice cup of tea. Your house has been destroyed by a meteorite? Nice cup of tea and a biscuit. Your entire family has been eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex that has travelled through a space/time portal? Nice cup of tea and a piece of cake. Possibly a savoury option would be welcome here too, for example a Scotch egg or a sausage roll.
Suppose you are drinking a cup of tea. When you hold your cup, you may like to breathe in, to bring your mind back to your body, and you become fully present. And when you are truly there, something else is also there - life, represented by the cup of tea. In that moment you are real, and the cup of tea is real. You are not lost in the past, in the future, in your projects, in your worries. You are free from all of these afflictions. And in that state of being free, you enjoy your tea. That is the moment of happiness, and of peace.
"Poor Mrs. Benefer," Heather murmured. "Well, a nice cup of tea and she'll be right as rain.""Oh, puh-leeze, Heather. A nice cup of tea, indeed. A nice cup of tea, two Prozac, and sleep for a week, maybe..."
I am very passionate about my first cup of morning tea. I like it in a certain way, so rather than having someone follow my instructions and go through the drill I prefer to just make my own cup of tea.
I usually wake up around 9, and the first thing I do is make myself a cup of tea. I drink a lot of tea - green tea, white tea, and all kinds of herbal teas.
I am a man without a furnace. My windows are insulated by 19 sheets of glass which cost less than installing a heating system.
The mug from the washstand was used as Becky's tea cup, and the tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything but tea.
I don't really go out that much, if I'm honest. I'm quite a recluse. If I had my way, I'd probably be at home most of the time with a book and a cup of tea or glass of wine.
I don't know what genre out there that I would be afraid to do. If I am afraid to do it, that's not my cup of tea. It ain't much that's not my cup of tea.
The outsider may indeed wonder at this seeming much ado about nothing. What a tempest in a tea-cup! he will say. But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup.
If I was making a tea advert, I would want to communicate about tea is that it can console you, it can start your day, there is the warmth and the ritual, and you can share it; you make someone a cup of tea and you offer it to them.
The Iron Rule of prudence for an Istanbulite Woman: If you are as fragile as a tea glass, either find a way to never encounter burning water and hope to marry an ideal husband or get yourself laid and broken as soon as possible. Alternatively, stop being a tea-glass woman!
I'm delighted when Scotland qualify either for the World Cup or the European Championship. I always take a vested interest in Scotland's result, and it creates the opportunity for a drink in our house when they do well.
When all is complete deep in the teapot, when tea, mint, and sugar have completely diffused throughout the water, coloring and saturating it...then a glass will be filled and poured back into the mixture, blending it further. The comes waiting. Motionless waiting. Finally, from high up, like some green cataract whose sight and sound mesmerize, the tea will once again cascade into a glass. Now it can be drunk, dreamily, forehead bowed, fingers held wide away from the scalding glass.
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