Morning Quotes - Page 174

In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now.

You get to an age when there are really just two reasons to get up in the morning — for goodness sake and for heaven's sake.

Sunday morning may be cheery enough, with its extra cup of coffee and litter of Sunday newspapers, but there is always hanging over it the ominous threat of 3 P.M., when the sun gets around to the back windows and life stops dead in its tracks.

What we hope for from the artist is help in discovering the significance of a place. In this sense we would choose in most respects for thirty minutes with Edward Hopper’s painting Sunday Morning to thirty minutes on the street that was his subject; with Hopper’s vision we see more.

The worst that can possibly have happened to him is death and that we are all in for---if not this morning, then in days, or weeks, or years at most.

I'm a 6 AM guy. I get up at 6 AM every morning so I can knock out my email, phone calls and start the day.

We all want to make a difference, to live in peace, to have joy each morning that we get to live this day and see what it brings.

When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

If you can live with the ups and downs, pick yourself up every morning, then there's nothing more gratifying.

We’ve seen with this president, experience matters. When that phone call comes at three o’clock in the morning, I will be up and ready for the call because I will know what’s going on in the world around us.

sorry,no thanks,if i was going to die it could wait until tomorrow morning.

Chiron insisted that we talk about the Labyrinth in the morning which is like 'Hey, your life's in mortal danger. Sleep tight!

I wanted to keep things as normal as possible for the trainees, so I led my usual morning class. I called it Magic Problem-Solving 101. The trainees called it Whatever Works.

Every morning when I get up, I ask God what he wants me to do, ask him to lead me to the right people to help them.

Surviving the grind of 18-hour days and getting up at four in the morning to work out for an hour so I'd have the energy to do it again the next day. I did not know I had that discipline. I did not know I had the discipline to learn a seven-page scene in three hours to shoot that day or the next day. I didn't know that I was capable of realizing that potential.

The first book by an African American I read was Carl T. Rowan's memoir, Go South to Sorrow. I found it on the bookshelf at the back of my fifth-grade classroom, an adult book. I can remember the quality of the morning on which I read. It was a sunlit morning in January, a Saturday morning, cold, high, empty. I sat in a rectangle of sunlight, near the grate of the floor heater in the yellow bedroom. And as I read, I became aware of warmth and comfort and optimism. I was made aware of my comfort by the knowledge that others were not, are not, comforted. Carl Rowan at my age was not comforted.

Why is it we love so fully what has washed up on the beaches of our hearts, those lost messages, lost friends, the daylight stars we never get to see? Bad luck never takes a vacation, my friend once wrote. It lies there among the broken shells and stones we collect, a story he would say begins with you, with me, a story that is forever lost among the backwaters of our lives, our endless fear of ourselves, and our endless need for hope, a story, perhaps an answer, a word suddenly on wing, the simple sound of a torn heart, or the unmistakable scent of the morning's fading moon.

Any rainy summer morning, of course, has the seeds of gloomy alienation sown in. But a rainy summer morning far from home - when your personal clouds don't move but hang - can easily produce the feeling of the world as seen from the grave. This I know.

This morning I saw a coyote walking through the sagebrush right at the very edge of the ocean ― next stop China. The coyote was acting like he was in New Mexico or Wyoming, except that there were whales passing below. That’s what this country does for you. Come down to Big Sur and let your soul have some room to get outside its marrow.

No matter where my travels take me, my day starts with a good work out, preferably kitesurfing or tennis. Exercise puts me in the right state of mind for the day. Dedicating time in the morning to exercise your body will make a big difference when you have to focus your mind on the day's work.

I am always working on the go. I have never had an office that I work out of and work has become intertwined with my personal life. Fortunately I am able to work from my home and can answer my e-mails in the morning, play tennis or kitesurf in the afternoon to keep fit and have meetings or phone calls in between.

Kitesurfing is one of the greatest sports in the world. I highly recommend this to anyone who has access to the ocean. There is nothing more freeing than being out there and kitesurfing. When my schedule permits, it's the first thing I do in the morning, before I have breakfast. Tennis is also fun, especially against someone far better at the sport than I am.

Theoretically, we Mennonites do not even know what we look like, since a focus on our personal appearance is vainglorious. Our antipathy to vainglory explains the decision of many of us to wear those frumpy skirts and the little doilies on our heads, a decision we must have arrived at only by collectively determining not to notice what we had put on that morning.

I like being on stage. I love seeing new cities and returning to cities that I love. It can be a little tiring because you don't sleep in your own bed, you're in a different hotel every night and the hours are really strange, which, for me, kind of works out because I'm a bit nocturnal in general. I think for some people it might be tougher than for others because you're usually not getting to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning at the earliest.

The French use cooking as a means of self-expression, and this meal perfectly represented the personality of a cook who had spent the morning resting her unwashed chin on the edge of a tureen, pondering whether she should end her life immediately by plunging her head into her abominable soup.