Oreo Love Quotes

I hate when people ask what a book is about. People who read for plot, people who suck out the story like the cream filling in an Oreo, should stick to comic strips and soap operas. . . . Every book worth a damn is about emotions and love and death and pain. It's about words. It's about a man dealing with life. Okay?

It's an odd thing to think about, but try imagining that your breakup is a disease. If you were told that you had a serious yet curable disease, would you go get hammered on a regular basis? Eat two bags of Oreos? Chain-smoke, pop, pills, get stoned, or fuck around? NO YOU WOULDN'T. You would take great care of yourself and cut all the unhealthy things out of your life. Because you love yourself, and even if you don't right now, WE DO. So put the (insert vice here) and start moving on.

It’s like he has this power over me—like I have an eating disorder and he’s a package of Oreo Double Stuff cookies.

Deep-fried Oreos were sent from heaven to prove God loves us.

My name? My name is nothing compared to Orion.” “No, I love your name. You’ve got tons of nickname opportunities. I got O, and that’s it. Oh, actually, I also had people calling me ‘Oreo’ in high school. Hated that.” “That’s bad, but at least you didn’t have to deal with ‘Valentino’s Day’ every Valentines Day. I had to ask out my friends’ crushes for them like I was Cupid.” “I’m so sorry, Cupid.” “It’s okay, Oreo.

I hate when people ask what a book is about. People who read for plot, people who suck out the story like the cream filling in an Oreo, should stick to comic strips and soap operas. What’s it about? Every book worth a damn is about emotions and love and death and pain. It’s about words. It’s about a man dealing with life. Okay?

Y.O.L.O= You Obviously Love Oreos Take that Drake! X3

Gay people have to love Oreos now,” explains Anderson.

Love is the hardest thing in the world.

Dear Pinterest, When we first started dating, you lured me in with Skittles-flavored vodka and Oreo-filled chocolate chip cookies. You wooed me with cheesy casseroles adjacent to motivational fitness sayings. I loved your inventiveness: Who knew cookies needed a sugary butter dip? You did. You knew, Pinterest. You inspired me, not to make stuff, but to think about one day possibly making stuff if I have time. You took the cake batter, rainbow and bacon trends to levels nobody thought were possible. You made me hungry. The nights I spent pinning and eating nachos were some of the best nights of my life. Pinterest, we can’t see each other anymore. You see, it’s recently come to my attention that some people aren’t just pinning, they are making. This makes me want to make, too. Unfortunately, I’m not good at making, and deep down I like buying way more. Do you see where I’m going with this? I’m starting to feel bad, Pinterest. I don’t enjoy you the way I once did. We need to take a break. I’m going to miss your crazy ideas (rolls made with 7Up? Shut your mouth). This isn’t going to be easy. You’ve been responsible for nearly every 2 a.m. grilled cheese binge I’ve had for the past couple of years, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. Stay cool, Pinterest. PS. You hurt me. PPS. I’m also poor now. Xo Me 10

Cookies. I need to bake cookies. It's the next best thing to running. Not really, but I do love cookies and I don't like the shit they sell in packages, which is what Margot buys. Oreos are acceptable. Because they're Oreos and no matter what you do, you can't replicate them. Trust me on this one. I've spent more than a few days in my kitchen, trying to do just that. It's never going to happen. So Oreos get a pass, but factory-sealed chocolate chip cookies that are shelf-stable for up to six months are another story. Life really is too short for that.

Teddy loved food—all of it. He loved seafood and local food and fast food. The taste of fresh basil could make him moan, but he also knew an Oreo could brighten a particularly low day, that the artificial white cream could make things just a touch better. Teddy believed that food could cure anything—heartbreak, homesickness, the common cold. During finals in college, he used to make his mom’s meat loaf recipe that called for cubes of Velveeta to be mixed inside.

Love is not a finite resource, something you have to mete out carefully like a package of Oreos. Instead, providing love begets more love, which begets more and more love. To my friends: Even in my loneliest, most painful moments, it was your love that shone through the dark. Your love kept me alive. Your love raised me. When I let your love in, it made me better. It taught me how to slowly become kinder and gentler, and then, as love tends to do, it multiplied and blossomed and taught me how to love myself, and how to love others.

Love is not a finite resource, something you have to mete out carefully like a package of Oreos. Instead, providing love begets more love, which begets more and more love.

How do you tell someone that you don’t love them anymore? Or the way I used to put it, that they just don’t make you want to give up your last piece of Oreo cheesecake.

When did we get Watermelon Oreos? That just sounded so wrong.

I hate when people ask what a book is about. People who read for plot, people who suck out the story like the cream filling in an Oreo, should stick to comic strips and soap operas…Every book worth a damn is about emotions and love and death and pain. It’s about words. It’s about a man dealing with life. Okay?

I loved going to church with Mother Dear (Ruby). The church members declared me the sweetest inside-out Oreo: White on the outside, a woman of color on the inside.

CHAPTER 38 A LOVE DEEPER THAN OREOS OLIVIA

I one thousand percent love you more than Oreos.

Allison pulled off her pack and opened it up.  “Okay, I have three bottles of water, five nutrition bars, two packages of Oreos, three candy bars, and one bag of Cheetos.”  From her reaction as she pulled out the bag of crushed Cheetos, I had to figure she loved having orange fingers. “I don’t think anyone is going to want the Cheetos, Allie,” I said gently. “Really?” she sounded a little desperate. “Really.  Why don’t you put those back in your pack?

Now Violet had let herself go until she could barely make it out of the house to buy her Oreos and booze. But if you looked closely, beneath the folds of flesh ravaged by bitterness and drink, you could see the lovely creature she had been, and what she had been then was just as bitter and vindictive as what she was now.