There are of course mornings when you wouldn't mind a lie in.
A new moon teaches gradualness and deliberation and how one gives birth to oneself slowly. Patience with small details makes perfect a large work, like the universe. What nine months of attention does for an embryo forty early mornings will do for your gradually growing wholeness
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what gets you out if bed in the mornings, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.
Dreams would always end with you, and then mornings would steal you away with a cruelty that haunted my days.
I'm normally fairly busy rushing from job to job, so have little time in the mornings for my beauty regime. However, this usually means my hair and makeup is done for me when I get there, which is great!
Not in the mornings, I'm always so tired in the morning.
I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my beautiful garden, and I go, 'Remember how good this is. Because you can lose it. '
Honestly, I don't always want to get up in the mornings, but I do anyway.
The first thing I think about when I wake up most mornings is the fact that I'm tired.
Also, I walk and hike in several different nearby parks near our home several early mornings a week.
I wake up some mornings hating me too.
In the days that follow, he begins to remember things about Moushumi, images that come to him without warning while he is sitting at his desk at work, or during a meeting, or drifting off to sleep, or standing in the mornings under the shower. They are scenes he has carried within him, buried but intact, scenes he has never thought about or had reason to conjure up until now.
I waited for dawn, but only because I had forgotten how hard mornings were. For a second I'd be normal. Then came the dim awareness of something off, out of place. Then the truth came crashing down and that was it for the rest of the day. Sunlight was reproof. Shouldn't I feel better than I had in the dead of night.
Honestly, when you have a child your life changes so much. Like, the last three mornings, I haven't even had time to shower. That seems like it should be the easiest thing to do, but sometimes it's the hardest.
I write in the mornings. During my down time.
Mornings are mysteries; the first world's youth, Man's resurrection, and the future's bud Shroud in their births.
Champions are built on a thousand invisible mornings.
I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who would jump through the open window by my bed in the middle of the night and land on my chest. I'd half-awaken. He'd stick his skull under my nose and purr, stinking of urine and blood. Some nights he kneaded my bare chest with his front paws, powerfully, arching his back, as if sharpening his claws, or pummeling a mother for milk. And some mornings I'd wake in daylight to find my body covered with paw prints in blood; I looked as though I'd been painted with roses.
I tend to write in the mornings.
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.