Breakfast

I must admit that breakfast is perhaps my favourite meal of the day. The best breakfast is that consumed late at night before retiring. I fondly remember one of champagne accompanied by a bowl of freshly picked boor-geresy fruit. It was a picnic near the giant fallen statues of Erewhon.

Sure I eat what I advertise. Sure I eat Wheaties for breakfast. A good bowl of Wheaties with bourbon can't be beat.

(Dizzy Dean)

George the Mailman replied, »Your onion?«

»Yes, the one I keep in my pocket as I travel down this dusty Lost Highway.«

»What a weirdo you are, Frank.«

To eat well in England, you should have a breakfast three times a day.

(William Somerset Maugham)

Most breakfast foods seem to be brown or yellow or white or orange.

Jams come in lots of different colours, though. I guess that is the only way to get blue or purple into your morning meal.

Fast or slow, it's all the same to me. Broken is broken.

I like British breakfast. I am looking forward to my next trip to England, since it is never the same when I try to make some at home.

I was at this restaurant. The sign said »Breakfast Anytime.« So I ordered French Toast in the Renaissance.

(Steven Wright)

One of the greatest delights when travelling through imaginary countries is the moment of discovery when biting into an unknown fruit. I will never forget the puckering in my mouth and the great shiver that ran down my spine when one morning at breakfast I popped a small boor-geresy into my mouth. Oh, to return to Erewhon!

The thing about breakfast is that my stomach is rarely strong enough, upon having just woken up, to actually eat a monstrous breakful of pancakes and eggs and sausages and cereals and canteloupe slices. Brunch works very nicely, but must be prepared by someone else to really work properly. My solution is to eat a hearty breakfast immediately before going to bed, usually at around 1 AM.