“Get out from that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans. Well, roll my breakfast cause I’m a hungry man.”

Now flip, flop, and fly, I don’t care if I die.

I don’t remember yesterday. Today it rained.

I believe it to my soul that you’re the devil in nylon hose, for the harder I worker the faster my money goes.

My father would often work all night and sleep during the day, so for us, dinner might be pancakes, and breakfast might be beef stroganoff.

I have savored to the full all the small, daily joys. The bright sunshine on the breakfast table; the smell of the air at dusk; the sound of the clock ticking; the light rains that start gently after midnight; the hour when the family come home.

I need someone to eat breakfast with and watch Adventure Time with!

The next day, she was silent. For breakfast, she murdered an onion and served it raw.

I still think the best classic meal in New York is a coffee-shop breakfast – you sort of can’t skip it.

The first duty of a revolutionist is to get away with it. The second duty is to eat breakfast. I ain’t going.

The first duty of a revolutionary is to get away with it. The second duty is to eat breakfast. I ain’t going.

Breakfast is everything. The beginning, the first thing. It is the mouthful that is the commitment to a new day, a continuing life.