Quotes About Sunday

I grew up Presbyterian, just a basic Protestant upbringing. There were years in my life when I would go to church every Sunday and to Sunday school. Then I just phased out of it.

Sunday, with its immunity from work, was devised for slaves who got out of all the work they could during the week.

Sunday, the day for the language of leisure.

SUNDAY appears to have been renamed as LOCKDOWNDAY for commoners & duffers giving them no liberty to go and do anything in public place anywhere and FUNDAY for billionaires & dirty politics players giving them full freedom to go and enjoy party everywhere

Dolly Blount Lamar of Macon, Georgia, remembered as a little girl spending Sunday afternoons in the local graveyard with her father who "would read [her] the tombstone inscriptions and discourse on the dead with considerable pomp and oratory."13

By the time we woke up on Sundays, my dad would have left home to get mutton. It was a kind of stew with thick gravy that my mother used to make in a pressure cooker. Even after the mutton was over, the cooker would still have some masala left. I used to polish it off with some rice.

I don't claim to be knowledgeable about theology. Most of my knowledge comes out of my experience and the lessons in the Bible. Every Sunday I'm home I teach 45 minutes and we boiled them down to one page for the new book, 'Through the Year with Jimmy Carter.'

A lasting marriage, they say, is one where the two reach for different sections of the Sunday paper. Me, I go right for the obituaries, just like those very elderly characters in Muriel Spark's spooky novel, 'Memento Mori.'

I eye 'Modern Love' warily between that second and third cup of coffee on Sunday mornings, calculating how much of a push I need to get through the day's unhurriedly earnest saga of heartbreak and recovery.

The church bell was ringing, three unvarying insistent peals, 'Come to church, come to church,' that punctuated every Sunday.

Hay un texto sobre cómo el bosque de Chapultepec es invadido por miles de sirvientas todos los domingos; un recorrido por la avenida Insurgentes, la calle más larga del mundo; un homenaje al monumento que alberga la mano cortada de un ex-presidente; y el recuento de una noche pasada en un bar de mal muerte adonde los soldados llegan con su novia y se van con un novio.

Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.

Sunday is the Lord's Day. Let us find time to be with him.

I see her on a Sunday after lunch, and we spend a pleasant afternoon, and when I leave I find she has run through me like water.

Every Sunday I nudge Sam in her direction, and he walks to where she is sitting and hugs her. She smells him behind the ears, where he most smells like sweet unwashed new potatoes. This is in fact what I think God may smell like, a young child's slightly dirty neck.

Zane gestured to the table. Did you see what I brun-brought? She shook her head, turning back to the papers. I've read these. Not that one. Nipped it from The Spotted Dog. Last week's news, but I thought you'd like the bottom-right bit. At least your reading is coming along. An' I washed my face last Sunday, he said virtuously. -Zane & Rue

for the people sat in their Sunday clothes, soberly nodding agreement with all the preachers said about impending doom on earth and searing flame hereafter, and came out Monday morning as before; they gave the Lord His day, and kept the other six for their own uses.

Woman is the Sunday of man: not his repose only, but his joy; the salt of his life.

if God is everywhere, why do I have to go to Church on Sunday?

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable...

When deep August arrives, a certain melancholy sets in, the kind people get on a Sunday afternoon.

That Sunday, from six o'clock in the evening, it was a Viennese orchestra that played.

Suppose that you didn't make your Easter duty and it's Pentecost Sunday, the last day, and you're on a ship at sea. And the chaplain goes into a coma! But you wanted to receive. And then it's Monday, too late… But then you cross the International Date Line! Would that then be a sin then, Father?

Even in 1831 Lowick was at peace, not more agitated by Reform than by the solemn tenor of the Sunday sermon. The