If you don't find a God by five o'clock this afternoon you must leave the college.
The unconscious mind has a habit of asserting itself in the afternoon.
All of our schools need to bring 'learn from doing' into the mainstream education, not just afternoon.
Then blessings on thee, my afternoon torpor Thou makest a prince of a mental porpor.
I never drink coffee at lunch. I find it keeps me awake for the afternoon.
Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.
In my afternoon walk I would fain forget all my morning occupations and my obligations to society.
I like to take afternoon naps in the nude.
Well, there's nothing better than putting your feet up on a Sunday afternoon and grabbing a good book.
If I produce it, I will stage it as a performance. A small audience will be invited; rehearsals of the sections will be done in the mornings, and those sections will be recorded in the afternoons.
Only a pint at breakfast-time, and a pint and a half at eleven o'clock, and a quart or so at dinner. And then no more till the afternoon; and half a gallon at supper-time. No one can object to that.
Why spend the afternoon making a meal that will be gone in an hour," she'd ask us, "when in the same amount of time, I can do a painting that will last forever?
It was around 4 p. m. in the afternoon. I was just taking a nap. Luckily, my sister was home.
I have important business to get to. I plan to sulk all afternoon, followed, perhaps, by an evening of Byronic brooding and a nighttime of dissipation.
On gym days, I don't get to my desk until 4 in the afternoon, and everything except bedtime and the appointment with the liquid narcotic is pushed back a bit.
I hated high school. Ugh. I couldn't wait until it was over so I could sleep in. In college, I made sure all my classes were in the afternoon. I hated getting up in the morning.
About morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.
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.
What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon? And the day after that, and the next thirty years?
Walking the streets of Charleston in the late afternoons of August was like walking through gauze or inhaling damaged silk.
