Quotes About Sunday

Hey hey hey I was born a rebel Down in Dixie on a Sunday morning Yeah, with one foot in the grave And one foot on the pedal I was born a rebel, born a rebel

Dawn, slowly filling Church Street with grey light, disclosed another day of war. Because it did this, this dawn bore no more resemblance to a peace-time dawn than the aspect of nature on a Sunday bears a resemblance to the aspect of nature on a weekday. Thus it seemed that dawn itself had been grimly harnessed to the war effort.

It was Sunday, and Mumma had gone next door with Lena and the little ones. Under the pepper tree in the yard Pa was sorting, counting, the empty bottles he would sell back: the bottles going clink clink as Pa stuck them in the sack. The fowls were fluffing in the dust and sun: that crook-neck white pullet Mumma said she would hit on the head if only she had the courage to; but she hadn't.

The sidewalk was completely empty. It was Sunday, early April. An icy wind teetered trash cans and turned my cheeks to marble. In Vietnam we had no weather like that. Here in Cleveland people call it spring.

Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon. —SUSAN ERTZ

certain writing instrument—became the objects of my demented possessiveness. Each momentary misplacement filled me with a frenzied dismay, each item being the tactile reminder of a world soon to be obliterated. November wore on, bleak, raw and chill. One Sunday

Not only is there no God, but try finding a plumber on Sunday.

I was the captain of the latent paranoid softball team. We used to play all the neurotics on sunday morning. Nailbiters against the bedwetters, and if you've never seen neurotics play softball, it's really funny. I used to steal second base, and feel guilty and go back.

El domingo se levantaba más temprano aún para estar más tiempo sin hacer nada. El peor momento de su vida era el fin de la tarde de ese día: caía en una meditación inquieta, el vacío del domingo estéril.

Yo que detesto el domingo porque está hueco Yo, que quiero la cosa más primordial porque es la fuente de la generación -yo que ambiciono beber agua en el manantial de la fuente-, yo que soy todo eso, debo por falta y trágico destino conocer tan sólo y experimentar tan sólo los ecos de mí, porque no capto el mí propiamente dicho.

I'm lost on this Sunday that's neither hot nor cold, having already taken refuge in a movie theater... I wished

As he lay abed on Sunday, 21 September, Morse was beset by the nagging feeling that there was so much to be done if only he could summon up the mental resolve to begin.

As he lay abed on Sunday, 21 September, Morse was beset by the nagging feeling that there was so much to be done if only he could summon up the mental resolve to begin. It was like deferring a long-promised letter; the intention lay on the mind so heavily that the simple task seemed progressively to assume almost gigantic proportions.

I know that, if I took your oath, I should be damned." "There are those who would envy your insight," he says, "into the workings of grace. But then, you and God have always been on familiar terms, not so? I wonder how you dare. You talk about your maker as if he were some neighbor you went fishing with on a Sunday afternoon.

They arrived on a Sunday, two vengeful grandees: the Duke of Norfolk a bright-eyed hawk

life's work over, rural ennui stretching ahead: a procession of days, Sunday to Sunday, all without shape.

God and I weren't on speaking terms. Still, no bars for me on Sundays.

Bloodies are the centerpiece of the Sunday Brunch--they are also, perhaps, the #1 Prep mixed drink..... 1. Place ice cubes in a large glass 2. Pour in two fingers of vodka 3. Fill glass almost to top with V-8 4. Season with: 2 drops Tabasco, 4 drops Worcestershire, 1/2 tsp. horseradish, 1 tsp. lime juice 5. Add wedge of lime, stir and drink 6. Repeat as needed

On Sunday morning, it's Brooklyn Bagels on Beverly Boulevard. We get them hot. Then we walk some of the famous Silver Lake steps or hike in the hills to the highest vantage point to see the reservoir.

My father was invited to play on a television show when I was 17 or 18 that was an early equivalent of educational television, a Sunday afternoon kind of variety art show.

Most of my food memories are of my Nan cooking Sunday dinners - roasts of meat with lots of vegetables. I suppose I cook what's comforting and dishes that make me feel good.

I have tried a Sunday roast with some British friends and really enjoyed it. But I try to eat really clean - that means a lot of vegetables.

Behind me, in the town, in the big straight streets lit by the cold light of the street lamps, a tremendous social event was dying: it was the end of Sunday.

Then one Sunday morning, before winter break, Abby's boyfriend, Whitney, materialized at their kitchen table, reading something called Of Grammatology. When Madeleine asked what the book was about, she was given to understand by Whitney that the idea of a book being about something was exactly what this book was against, and that, if it was about anything, then it was about the need to stop thinking of books as being about things.