Late in the afternoon we passed a man on the shore fishing with a long birch pole. . . . The characteristics and pursuits of various ages and races of men are always existing in epitome in every neighborhood. The pleasures of my earliest youth have become the inheritance of other men. This man is still a fisher, and belongs to an era in which I myself have lived.
Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings, saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.
But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.
I find that when I have any appointment, even an afternoon one, it changes the whole quality of time. I feel overcharged. There is no space for what wells up from the subconscious; those dreams and images live in deep still water and simply submerge when the day gets scattered.
I like the good life too much, I'm not good at going on stage night after night and on wet Wednesday afternoons.
In his or her own way, everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really happy or just looked it, I couldn't tell. But they did look happy on this pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was not truly part of the scene.
Saturday afternoon, although occurring at regular and well-foreseen intervals, always takes this railway by surprise.
John Kerry fell off of his bicycle over the weekend. He went for a Sunday afternoon ride, fell off in front of the news media. Luckily, his hair broke the fall so it's not as serious. . . . Thankfully, Senator Kerry was not seriously injured. In fact, when the police arrived, Kerry was well enough to give conflicting reports to the officers about what happened.
I've got enough money to last the rest of my life. . . as long as I die about four o'clock this afternoon.
All our words from loose using have lost their edge.
It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.
You took a walk on a Sunday afternoon and came to a nice neighborhood, very refined. You saw a small one of these trees through the iron gate leading to someone's yard and you knew that soon that section of Brooklyn would get to be a tenement district. The tree knew. It came there first. Afterwards, poor foreigners seeped in and the quiet old brownstone houses were hacked up into flats, feather beds were pushed out on the window sills to air and the Tree of Heaven flourished. That was the kind of tree it was. It liked poor people.
I had a certificate that said, 'Doctor of Mixology, Harvard University,' that I actually got from Harvard University. A friend of mine was a research assistant over there and it was one of those student or university perks and she brought me in on that. So I am a doctorate from Harvard and it only took me one afternoon.
We ought to be living as if Jesus died yesterday, rose this morning, and is coming back this afternoon.
Every morning or afternoon, whenever you want to write, you have to go up and shoot that old bear under your desk between the eyes.
If you've got some news that you don't want to get noticed, put it out Friday afternoon 4:00 pm.
When I was 17, I worked at a bagel shop - I ate so many! I was also in all the school musicals, which we rehearsed for during the afternoons.
The afternoon and the early evening slide by in a lidded daze where the ability to think in any identifiable way disappears and where every moment seems to be an eternity.
Very often my weekends are spent performing on Saturday, on stage in the afternoon and again in the evening.
This gardener will be out in the very early morning and from late afternoon, attentive to small changes in the quality of light and the atmosphere, as well as to every nuance of the season, which combine to create perfection.
