I don't know anyone famous to quote here, other than my mother, who insisted that my sister and I eat something before we left for school.
“At least have a piece of toast,” she said. “You can't think in class if your stomach is empty.”
I remember dashing out of our home, pushing my bike's kickstand up, the toast wedged in my mouth, and then pedaling to school munching on this toasted mess.
I bring this subject to you because an informal and incomplete survey of relatives, friends, and La Cañada breakfast establishments proves that while the toast itself is universal, the toasting suffers from inconsistency. Home toasters, which is what most of us face every morning, are obstinate and tend to fight back when engaged.