It's a new day. Yesterday's failure is redeemed at the sunrise
Todd StockerTag: fear mercy morning failure new sunrise redeemed
You know you love him when you can't sleep at night and get up early to talk to him the next morning.
Kayla CarsonTag: love night morning teenage-love sleepless-nights
Fortunately, he'd found that most people were easy to locate at five thirty in the morning.
Patricia BriggsTag: humor morning alpha-and-omega cry-wolf charles-cornick wake-up
Nature awakens each day in brilliant autumn colors, making me wish the pale winter would bid adieu.
Richelle E. GoodrichTag: nature morning winter color richelle sunrise richelle-goodrich
She wasn’t crying at all. This was what scared him the most. Where had she locked up the things he’d seen her feeling that day when she heard? She wasn’t that big a girl to hold all of it—to hold her brother’s life and his death inside of her. To hold all his long-limbed raging tidal motion and all the loss of that.
Francesca Lia BlockTag: loss morning withdrawal holding-back mourn
When you arise in the moring, think of what a precious privelege it is to be alive-- to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love
Marcus AureliusTag: inspirational morning positive-thinking
Morning"
SUN
That awakens Paris
The highest poplar on the bank
On The Eiffel Tower
A tricolored cock
Sings to the flapping of his wings
and several feathers fall
As it resumes its course
The Seine looks between the bridges
For her old route
And the Obelisk
That has forgotten the Egyptian words
Has not blossomed this year
SUN
Tag: sun morning paris bridges rooster egypt eiffel-tower seine obelisk
Like a gift, beautifully wrapped at the foot of your bed each morning, today asks that you open it and enjoy everything inside. Exhaust yourself with all it has to offer!
Steve MaraboliTag: life goals success dreams morning gift bed new-day
Every sunny morning is a great fountain; we quaff ‘sweet hope’ from it.
Mehmet Murat ildanTag: morning
The sun was up, the room already too warm. Light filtered in through the net curtains, hanging suspended in the air, sediment in a pond. My head felt like a sack of pulp. Still in my nightgown, damp from some fright I'd pushed aside like foliage, I pulled myself up and out of my tangled bed, then forced myself through the usual dawn rituals - the ceremonies we perform to make ourselves look sane and acceptable to other people. The hair must be smoothed down after whatever apparitions have made it stand on end during the night, the expression of staring disbelief washed from the eyes. The teeth brushed, such as they are. God knows what bones I'd been gnawing in my sleep.
Margaret AtwoodTag: sleep morning sleeping waking-up wake-up
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