Quotes About Days

His suspicion that he was not going in the right direction tortmented him more and more. At last he had the conviction that he would never go anywhere but in the wrong direction, to the very end of the handful of days that was left to him, unhappy moonstruck pilgrim, whose April was to be cut off short.

In a time like that, the past meets you wherever you turn. The days do not use their own hours and minutes, they find ones you have lived through with the person you are missing.

They were, indeed, giants in the land in those days—because, of course, giants get their prominence partly by comparison with one's own height. Gulliver, after all, wasn't a giant until he came to the world of the Lilliputians. I

Her grief still burdened her, and she knew she would bear it the rest of her days.

The American 'unum' has been lost since the Sixties. If this continues, there will soon be no unifying American identity and vision to balance the 'pluribus,' and the days of the Republic will be numbered.

The sun was as flirty as Scarlett O'Hara with the Tarleton twins, breaking through the clouds in spectacular bursts that seemed like personal favors and then retreating for hours, days, and making us all ache for just a glimpse.

It was, he knew, a sign of End of Days. Ruth refusing booze.

Summer's cheek too soon turns thin, Days grow briefer, sunshine rare; Autumn from his cannekin Blows the froth to chase Despair.

His life had been full of days and his days had been full of life.

When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze and touches with her hand the summer trees….' That's poetry. And 'Like painted kites the days and nights went flying by. The world was new beneath a blue umbrella sky.

Forse è la vita chiusa che facciamo qui, e la noia in cui ci imbattiamo quando cerchiamo di variarla. Queste abitudini, questi giorni come vestiti vecchi. Ieri un giorno di luce brillante, di brillantezza acustica: il tintinnio di ruote di treni lontani sui binari risuonava netto. Dolori da sinusite. Ho portato Ben in macchina sulla collina a vedere il tramonto, il buio terso, le colline, le luci lontane, le nuvole tinte, il cielo color lavanda e limone.

Never blame a day in your life... good days give you happiness, bad days give you experience. Both are essential to life, all are God's blessings. Good Morning!

In a time like that, the past meets you wherever you turn. The days do not use their own hours and minutes, they find ones you have lived through with the person you are missing.

Spring had been the season for dying in the old days. Invalids who had struggled through the dark comfort of winter took fright as the night receded.

. . .my dreams are the single unpredictable factor in my zoned days and nights. Nobody allots them, or censors them. Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.

The key that sits in the lock, unused since the days of Hester, is hot. It burns my palm as I turn it.

She was taking a round of medications, a mystical wheel, the ritualistic design of the hours and days in tablets and capsules, in colors, shapes and numbers.

The theistic evolutionist considers the days in Genesis as periods of time, long periods of time. I do not believe that is true. God's marking off the creative days with the words, "And the evening and the morning were the first day," etc., makes it clear that He was not referring to long periods of time but to actual twenty-four hour days.

I was grieving the way the earth seems to grieve for spring in the dead of winter, but I wasn't afraid, because nothing, I told myself, can take our halcyon days away.

The tool enables man to conquer. But, man, dost thou not know there is no more victory which is thy victory? The victory of our days belongs to the tool.

The tumults of time are oft passed by in records of the private memoirist; for our days consist not of the Senatorial speech and the refracted solar beam cast through heroic cloud, but rather of bread eaten, and ink blotted, and talk of the sermon, and walks along the whiskery avenues in the garden.

And to 'scape stormy days, I choose an everlasting night.

The stairs were certainly steep; and in those days, when they could rarely see their own feet, women were always falling; it was a commonplace of domestic life.

It seemed sadistic, this last wasteland of days. It was as if Conchis, with Alison's connivance, proceeded by some outmoded Victorian dietetic morality—one couldn't have more jam, the sweetness of events, until one ate a lot more bread, the dry stodge of time.