A Quote by James Payn

I never had a piece of toast particularly long and wide, But fell upon the sanded floor, And always on the buttered side. — © James Payn
I never had a piece of toast particularly long and wide, But fell upon the sanded floor, And always on the buttered side.
The Victorians have been immoderately praised, and immoderately blamed, and surely it is time we formed some reasonable picture of them? There was their courageous, intellectually adventurous side, their greedy and inhuman side, their superbly poetic side, their morally pretentious side, their tea and buttered toast side, and their champagne and Skittles side. Much like ourselves, in fact, though rather dirtier.
It would be nice to be a piece of toast. Everyone likes a piece of toast, don't they? No one is ever sad when you offer them a piece of toast, and if I could be that to someone, that would be nice.
The cup of tea on arrival at a country house is a thing which, as a rule, I particularly enjoy. I like the crackling logs, the shaded lights, the scent of buttered toast, the general atmosphere of leisured cosiness.
If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it?
I realized that I've had a really rocky relationship with food - it has not been a gauzy, beautiful summer of ripe melons and perfectly buttered toast.
It isnt only fictional heroes to whom toast means home and comfort. It is related of the Duke of Wellington - I believe by Lord Ellesmere - that when he landed at Dover in 1814, after six years absence from England, the first order he gave at the Ship Inn was for an unlimited supply of buttered toast.
By now it was clear that Howl was in a mood to produce green slime any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. "I'll make some hot buttered toast," she said. "Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy??" Howl asked. "Make toast!
I was a great believer in hot buttered toast at all hours of the day.
Hugh and I have been together for so long that in order to arouse extraordinary passion, we need to engage in physical combat. Once, he hit me on the back of the head with a broken wineglass, and I fell to the floor pretending to be unconscious. That was romantic, or would have been had he rushed to my side rather than stepping over my body to fetch the dustpan.
My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.
I guess I had passed out and fell on the floor. I was out cold for 16 hours. I woke up and one whole side of my face was bruised. I just knew that something like that could happen, and you may never wake up from it. Everything changed for me after that day.
Toast was a pointless invention from the Dark Ages. Toast was an implement of torture that caused all those subjected to it to regurgitate in verbal form the sins and crimes of their past lives. Toast was a ritual item devoured by fetishists in the belief that it would enhance their kinetic and sexual powers. Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast.
I don't see what difference it makes what side it's [your bread] buttered on. I always eat both sides.
With my parents, when I was younger, I always had to do two things. If I was acting, I always had to do a sport or something on the arts side of things along with that. That way, if one fell apart, I always had something else to fall back on.
When I was a kid and my mom made tomato soup, she would cut buttered toast into squares and float them on top of each bowl.
A slice of hot, buttered toast is the perfect meal. It's not too much and not too little, and it gives you just the right buzz.
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