After all these years I’ve finally pegged my writing style — simple, soulful, silly.
On the days I’ve had too much coffee, my writing style turns to overcaffeinated spiritual warrior.
At age 45 — after thirty-four years of writing — I feel that I’m finally about to break free from my juvenilia phase. In a few more years.
I’m crying tears of coffee past.
Tea is good while reading dusty books. Coffee pairs well with shiny things and the real world.
I don’t party at night with alcohol. I party hard in the morning with coffee and oatmeal.
Hot coffee and cold winter mornings are two of the best soul mates who ever did find each other.
The best substitute for coffee is a good night’s sleep.
Coffee fills my belly with morning rainbows of calmness and joy.
Tea is a magical calming elixir — like, as if coffee had a therapist.
My spirit animal is a snail on caffeine.
Coffee is the best thing to douse the sunrise with.
