Cafe Latte Quotes

Come on. Let's go to Cafe Bella and drink so many lattes we're peeing coffee for a week.

I might not seem like the type who could sit at an outdoor cafe drinking a latte, but I am. Why? No motion required. It's just sitting. Sitting and sipping. I can't imagine a neurosis that would prevent one from raising one's arm to one's mouth while holding a cup, though given time, I'm sure I could come up with one.

The trend is for the following new coffee drinks: espresso, a shot of hot strong caffè served in a small cup with hot cream and sweetener; cappuccino, a blend of espresso and steamed and foamed hot milk; caffè latte, same ingredients as cappuccino but with more steamed and less foamed milk; and cafe mocha, mostly steamed milk with a shot of espresso and mocha syrup. All these coffees may have cinnamon, chocolate, plus additional flavors added.Δ

That reminds me, does Professor Camden know that you copied his house key yet?" "Yeah, he already took the first copy back," Everly replies and continues making her drink. I have to set my latte down at that point. I should know better than to have a conversation with Everly while drinking hot liquids. "The first copy, Everly?" "Yeah. And he didn't even ask me for the second copy." She takes a sip of her drink. "I'm kind of pissed off about it, to be honest. It's like he doesn't even know me, right?" I nod slowly. "Right." "Obviously I would make three copies. Anyone should know that." I lean against the back counter and nod. "Obviously." Honestly, I have no idea how many copies one would make when stealing someone's house key, but it's best to just go along when Everly is on a roll. "I expect him to change his locks once I use the second key so the third key is likely useless, but he should know me well enough to ask for the second key." She sighs, looking truly despondent.

coffee: (n.) caffeinated beverage God gave us to drink in the morning so we might resist the urge to crawl immediately back in bed.

The numbers on the gas meter rapidly move as my thirsty car chugs, similar to a teenager with a Red Bull Special.

It was late afternoon, and classes were over for the day. Apple and Briar Beauty had walked to the Village of Book End to treat themselves to something yummy. They sat on a bench beneath a weeping willow. The songbirds that often followed Apple were perched in the willow's branches, chirping their lovely melody. Apple sipped on an apple fizz she'd purchased from the Hocus Latte Cafe. Briar had chosen a mocha hocus latte.

I don’t drink coffee,” Tabby replied. “Only tea when I’m at home or chai latte if I’m in a cafe.

Sam stood on the second floor veranda of the hotel, across from the pool, and looked out spotting Claire. His heart took a tiny leap in his chest when he first caught sight of her in the crowd around the pool, he zeroed in on her face instantly, like a computer program scanning faces. Her almond-shaped brown eyes captivated him, even at the great distance. When she stood up from the lounger, he instinctively reached down for the railing to grab on to something. It was the first time he'd seen her in a bathing suit. Wow. She looked lovely. Her exposed cafe latte colored skin glowed. Purple was her color, and it showcased her small, but curvy body the one he'd held tightly just a few short hours ago.

Across the street from the bed-and-breakfast, I open a small café where residents can sip cocoa lattes, eat raspberry tarts baked in Valentine's Town, and savor orange whipped toffees that Helgamine and Zeldaborn complain get stuck in their few remaining teeth--yet they keep coming back for more. Wolfman and Behemoth sit together every afternoon sharing a pot of black rose tea, delicately holding their cups between clawed and too-large fingertips, nibbling on coconut macaroons. I even sell my sleeping tonic at the café--in a much milder dose than what I brew for the Sandman, who still stops by for a refill now and then--in scents of lavender and chamomile, herbs harvested from Dream Town.

Weekday morning routine: Take shower. Assemble perfect outfit. Apply makeup. Pull hair into bun. Secure with glitter pencils. Accept twenty-dollar bill from Dad. Pick up latte and creamy chocolate brioche from cafe. Drive to school the long way. Listen to sad music way too loud. Nab choice parking spot under tree.

He handed over a Brew-ha Cafe bag filled with corn and cheese muffins and a ginataang mais cupcake that I was testing out, plus a lavender chai latte. She went straight for the cupcake. "Ooh, this is new. What is it?" "The cupcake has a sweet corn cake base and is topped with coconut cream cheese frosting, a coconut jam drizzle, and toasted puffed rice. A new recipe I'm toying with for this weekend's Corn Festival booth menu." Cupcakes were a little fussier than the desserts I usually prepared (I loved a gorgeously decorated pastry, but as the cafe's only baker, I had to focus on speed and taste, not appearance), but these were simple enough and impressive-looking enough that I was willing to make the effort for a special event.

But a little over a month ago, he'd come to the Waterstones cafe to grab a book of photography and a pumpkin spice latte - his taste in coffee had never been especially sophisticated - and within a moment of walking through the doors, he'd been overcome with a sense of rightness. The utterly illogical and entirely absurd suspicion that this was an important place to be, in that grand and nonsensical search of his.

The Coffeehouse Troubadour by Stewart Stafford I am The Coffeehouse Troubadour; Catchpenny conduit of all your pain, Nanosecond glance, a collective boil lanced, And my mirror refracts again. You mix my words in bitterest cups, Laced to an addictive latte brew, Read the room as we slowly dance And see, it's not about me, it's about you. Did you catch the trick I pulled there? Would you like me to show you once more? Or put on your coat in silent meditation? A rainy baptism as you walk through the door? © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

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It was the kind of cafe you went to for lattes on a first date, or to meet up with old friends over a pot of chai, or to read a book by the fire while sipping on a mug of hot chocolate with extra mini marshmallows.