Toast is a process. Toast is transitory. Toast is only toast while it's hot. After that, it's just rough bread. Our band is called "A General Lack of Toast," because our toast, like our lives, does not last forever. Toast only exists in the moment. Toast is a state of being.
Toast is inherently Buddhist. "Zen Toast" is redundant.
The toast that can be named is not the eternal toast.
A bagel can be toasted but toast cannot be bageled. A toasted bagel is a form of toast.
Which came first, the toast or the toaster?
If toast pops alone in the woods, does it make a sound? If no one eats it, is it really toast?
When the toast talks, butter it.
When is toast not toast?
Toast is born of bread. Bread is a universal symbol of food and bounty. Christ used bread to represent his body. But if Christ had a toaster, the disciples surely would have eaten toast.
A toaster can exist without toast, but toast cannot exist without a toaster.
Those who toast, toast toast.
Toast is completely free from desire.
Those who eat toast are toasted. Those who are toasted eat toast.
French toast is toast.
All toast is sorrowful.
Don't be afraid to make a toast to toast.
Philosophers debate the existence of God, but nobody doubts the existence of toast.
Everybody must get toasted.
When the toast talks, eat it.
Is this toast I see before me?
Don't cry over burnt toast.
Toast knows of all toast.
Although toast can be pondered, it is better to be eaten.
Bread is the masses . . . toast is individual, unique . . . a slice . . .
Shakespeare ate toast.
Toast cannot be lent.
Croutons are cold toast.
Never overestimate the fragility or underestimate the taste of toast.
You toasty motherfucker.
Toast treats death as its advisor.
Toast like to get buttered up.
Bread crumbs are toast.
When toasted, English muffins are toast.
Necrophiliacs like toast.
Toast will not discriminate.
Toast eases elimination.
Toast dies younger than us.
Toast has no temper.
Toast has no enemies except itself.
Toast is real, not vicarious like dead people.
What goes on the toast is not toast.
Toast give dignity to the insulted and injured of the earth.
Toast cannot be explained: one interprets it.
Toast is the mask of no thing.
Toast is a universe.
Toast is itself and other than itself.
Toast repeats itself like waves: no slice resembles another.
Paths, whether ramified, sloped or bewitching, do not unfold like that which is unfolded between toast and us.
Toast is a planet revolving around itself.
Don't burn the toast and the toast won't burn you.
Our path towards toast is toast.
When I see toast, my eyes fill with butter.
When we apprehend toast, we can say: we apprehend everything.
Jelly is jism that toast uses to orgasm.
Toast exiles us, and it is our only refuge.
I used to toast her, but it's all over now.
Toast waits for no one.
Spread the butter.
Pub. Feb. 1999