"Muffin" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... cloak, trying to keep himself from dripping where wet could do mischief. She had to explain her regret at his having had such a walk in vain; but she had taken alarm on finding that rain was setting in for the night, and had sent word by the muffin-boy that the brougham would be wanted, contriving to convey that it was not to ...
— Beechcroft at Rockstone • Charlotte M. Yonge
... with the East. These are mere broken promptings for your own elaboration. And it seems to sort with this theory of close relation, that the generation which flared and flounced its person until nature was no more than a kernel in the midst, which puffed itself like a muffin with but a finger-point of dough within, should be the generation that particularly delighted in romantic literature, in which likewise nature is so prudently wrapped that scarce an ankle can show itself. It would be a nice inquiry whether the hoopskirt ...
— Journeys to Bagdad • Charles S. Brooks
... a source of great amusement, whether written or acted. To illustrate the latter, you will, for instance, throw your muff under the table, and ask, "What word does that represent?" Perhaps some one will suggest "Muffin." "No—'fur-below.'" Tie your handkerchief tightly around the neck of some statuette—"Artichoke"—etc. In writing or speaking a sentence to illustrate a word, the most ridiculous will sometimes provoke the most mirth. We will give an illustration of one ...
— St. Nicholas Magazine for Boys and Girls, Vol. 5, January 1878, No. 3 • Various
... the new, white rooster crowing, instead of the soul of Thomas Jefferson. Rebecca Mary found out after she had dressed and gone downstairs. Soon after that she appeared in the kitchen doorway with an armful of snowy feathers. Aunt Olivia, over her muffin pans, eyed her with secret delight. The cure was working sooner than she had dared ...
— Rebecca Mary • Annie Hamilton Donnell
... astonishment—and it might almost be added confusion—the first person his eyes lit on as they walked towards the tea-tables was Fanny Cronin, comfortably seated in an immense arm-chair, devouring a muffin in the company of an old lady, whose determined face was completely covered with a criss-cross of wrinkles, and whose withered hands were flashing with magnificent rings. He was so taken aback that he was guilty of a definite start, and the exclamation, "Miss Cronin!" ...
— December Love • Robert Hichens
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