Quotes About Morning

Early morning: set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically.

The bright stars fade. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: the morn is breaking.

She wore a black blouse with a white lace collar and had an animated sternness about her that suggested a conjugal situation similar to waking up each morning on a medieval rack.

At four-twenty every morning I wake and have no idea where or who I am.

each morning is a blessing, as votive in nature as a communion wafer raised to the sky.

THE SUN HAD just crested on the horizon like a misplaced planet, swollen and molten and red, lighting a landscape that seemed sculpted out of clay and soft stone and marked by the fossilized tracks of animals with no names, when a tall barefoot man wearing little more than rags dropped his horse's reins and eased himself off the horse's back and worked his way down an embankment into a riverbed chained with pools of water that glimmered as brightly as blood in the sunrise.

WHEN ISHMAEL WOKE, the walls of his trench were seeping water and the dawn was colder than it should have been, the sky an unnatural and ubiquitous pale color that had less to do with the rising of the sun than the passing of the night.

The false dawn, with its illusions and mist-wrapped softness, can be as inadequate and fleeting as Morpheus' gifts. CHAPTER 2 The days became warmer the first week in April, and on some mornings I went out on the salt at dawn and seined

I didn't know who Ernest Hemingway was until I moved to Key West and visited his house on Whitehead Street," she said. "Then I started reading his books, and I saw something in one of them I never forgot. He said the test of all morality is whether you feel good or bad about something the morning after.

The great gift of age is the realization that each morning is a blessing, as votive in nature as a communion wafer raised to the sky. I made a habit of letting the world go on a daily basis, but unfortunately, it didn't want to let go of me.

I love the early hours of the day. It's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.

The day is breaking someone else's heart.

Steve turned to us again, looking so dang enthusastic that I wondered how much coffee he'd had this morning. So, you kids want to be big stars, eh? God, no! I said spewing crumbs. No way! Oddly, this seemed to throw a petite wrench into the convo.

The next morning-at least, I assumed it was morning, since we were all waking up- I felt like one of those twelve dancing princesses, who danced all night, wore holes in their shoes, and had to sleep it off the next day. Except, oh yeah: a)I'm not a princess; b)sleeping in a subway tunnel and having another brain attack aren't that much like dancing all night; and c) my combat boots were still in good shape. Other than that, it was exactly the same.

Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with the overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then .

THE TEACHER WALKED into Bryant Park, behind the New York Public Library, at eleven a.m.—still ahead of schedule.

Coffee without doughnuts is like a day without sunshine.

I dumped half a cup of green tea into the sink. To hell with my chakras. I needed coffee.

about Mom, and how stupid I was for doing this. Also, how glad I was that I didn't have to camp out in a dark, cold storage locker that night. (Seriously—what was I thinking?) And when Mom said she was coming first thing in the morning, she meant it. By six o'clock, Mrs. Galletta was waking me up and asking Mom if we wanted breakfast before we left.

Can I get you a beer? Mind if I have one?" Oliver was drinking at nine in the morning. What did he know? What had he done? He dragged a kitchen chair into the living room, and Conklin and I took turns throwing questions at him. He told us that he had worked for Chandler since long before the trial. While Chandler was in the system, Oliver had taken

Stop talking and let me just tell you how great it is to wake up staring at your face. Okay?

They say New York is the city that never sleeps. But at a quarter to three on a moonlit Tuesday morning in May, the stretch of Central Park West that we were driving on was crapped out like a cat on a porch swing.

This is what I actually looked like when I got to school that first morning of sixth grade.

Strichler as I drove to work that