A Quote by Kellie Pickler

Everybody likes their coffee different. — © Kellie Pickler
Everybody likes their coffee different.
I just think that everybody likes good things. Everybody likes dogs, everybody likes to feel good and believe the best in people.
I think that everybody likes different kinds of music, and that's absolutely fine.
I think one day I can make a book about coffee shops in Hong Kong. I spent almost most of my time in coffee shops, in different coffee shops.
Is it possible to get a cup of coffee-flavored coffee anymore in this country? What happened with coffee? Did I miss a meeting? They have every other flavor but coffee-flavored coffee. They have mochaccino, frappaccino, cappuccino, al pacino...Coffee doesn't need a menu, it needs a cup.
I think everybody likes a person that stands up for themselves. Nobody likes a punk or a coward.
Everybody likes an extraordinary person or likes to think that they would be great with a superpower in an ordinary world.
If an individual agrees with everybody, he lacks conviction; if he likes everybody and is everybody's friend, he is indifferent to one and all.
Everybody hangs out with everybody, which is very strange for a cast this large and this young. We're all cool and down to earth and not caught up in this maniacal business at all.... Everybody really, really likes everybody else.
Everybody hangs out with everybody, which is very strange for a cast this large and this young. We're all cool and down to earth and not caught up in this maniacal business at all... . Everybody really, really likes everybody else.
It seems like the first law of Nature is that everybody likes to receive things, but nobody likes to feel grateful.
We were so happy to be alive. There was a motel there pretty close. We had a big cup of coffee. Everybody had a room to themselves. But nobody wanted to go to bed. Everybody wanted to stay up and drink coffee and have doughnuts. We had made it. The weather was perfect when we woke up the next morning.
The working-class is now issuing from its hiding-place to assert an Englishman's heaven-born privilege of doing as he likes, and is beginning to perplex us by marching where it likes, meeting where it likes, bawling what it likes, breaking what it likes.
I think, oddly, that the world of the amateur is quite self-contained, and it depends on "likes" from other amateurs to perpetuate itself. Of course an awful lot of my colleagues are involved with Instagram - they get likes and dislikes, maybe just likes, I don't know - but I think that it's far less self-contained, the world I work in. It goes off in different directions, and is dependent on responses different from a tick or a like or whatever.
Coffee, she'd discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it. Coffee was a lot like love that way. And because Rachel believed in love, she believed in coffee, too.
We've gone through many different permutations of coffee-making, from grinding our own beans to the regular drip to an iced coffee maker.
The big part of coffee production in many rural areas is in the hands of women. It's women who work in the fields. They harvest the coffee. They wash the coffee. They take the coffee to the market. But when the coffee gets to the market, it's the man who cashes in the money for the crop.
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