Quotes About Morning

They went to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, which a fine south-easterly breeze was bringing in all the grandeur which so flat a shore admitted. They praised the morning; gloried in the sea; sympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze- and were silent...

though under temporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of softened pain and brighter hope.

Before the house-maid had lit the fire the next day, or the sun gained any power over the cold, gloomy morning in January, Marianne, only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the little light she could command from it, and writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her.

The progress of the friendship between Catherine and Isabella was quick as its beginning had been warm...and if a rainy morning deprived them of other enjoyments, they were still resolute in meeting in defiance of wet and dirt, and shut themselves up, to read novels together.

But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet.

La juventud y el buen humor de la mañana forman una feliz analogía, de poderosos efectos; y si la alteración no es lo bastante fuerte como para mantener los ojos sin cerrar, seguro que estos se abrirán a una sensación de dolor suavizado y a una esperanza más clara.

While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough—I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.

I have changed my mind, and changed the trimmings of my cap this morning; they are now such as you suggested.

I like to live spaciously, but rather plainly, in large halls with great spaces and quiet libraries. I like to wake in the morning with the sense of a great, silent garden round me.

The woman on the bike raises her head and looks at the sky, sniffs, smiles to herself. A foggy day in Nantucket, but she has lived here long enough to know this is merely a morning fog, and the bright early-June sunshine will burn it off by midday, leaving a beautiful afternoon.

I used to think that love was simple and noticeable, like rain falling, so that just as you'd look at your skin and say Water, you would also wake in the morning and say Love. But it has been underneath, this new and old thing I feel, subterranean, silent and steady, like blood, rushing along and along without often making itself known.

He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun. I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you, Ranger said. I found it in the cookie jar. Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar. Name one. Rockford. Ranger grinned. I stand corrected.

God's a busy guy. He don't have time to micromanage. What are the chances he heard that? It's early in the morning. He's probably having breakfast with Mrs. God.

I was going to go to church, but I decided to get doughnuts instead.

I always know it's Sunday because I wake up feeling apologetic. That's one of the cool things about being a Catholic . . . it's a multifaceted experience. If you lose the faith, chances are you'll keep the guilt, so it isn't as if you've been skunked altogether.

Connie, giving her thoughts on why Vinnie's hot temper is less than normal, says: Lucille must have fed him a Vallium smoothie this morning.

Lucille must have fed him a Vallium smoothie this morning.

I always know it's Sunday because I wake up feeling apologetic. That's one of the cool things about being a Catholic … it's a multifaceted experience.

Are you hungry?" Grandma asked me. "Do you need breakfast?" "I'm famished!

I have always disliked the morning, it is too responsible a time, with the daylight demanding that it be 'faced' and (usually when I wake for I wake late) with the sun already up and in charge of the world, with little hope of anyone usurping or challenging its authority. A shot of light in the face of a poor waking human being and another slave limps wounded into the light-occupied territory.

Generally I get up at around 7. But oftentimes, I'll be lolling in bed a little bit earlier - sometimes as early as 5:45 - filing in my mind all the things I have to get done. Which is, of course, totally unproductive.

Until I really dealt with a lot of the demons in my life - the fear and self-doubt and unresolved issues with my old man - I could never feel fulfilled and happy. I would wake up in the morning and feel bad.

I don't really eat breakfast that often. I'm a bacon guy. I like breakfast food, but I don't really eat food until after noon, so by that time, that's not really breakfast.

On that Sunday morning the first thing that impressed the people who approached the tomb was the unusual position of the one and a half to two ton stone that had been lodged in front of the doorway.