Morning

Morning is the most glorious time of day, there is a sense of peacefulness while most remain alseep. Grab a cup of warm coffee, and sit on a patio and enjoy the beautiful sun rise. Within hours the city streets will go from complete quietness to a chaotic jungle.

It is a good morning exercise for a research scientist to discard a pet hypothesis every day before breakfast. It keeps him young.

(Konrad Lorenz)

Misers get up early in the morning; and burglars, I am informed, get up the night before.

- – – - – - Gilbert K. Chesterton

One can only wait for Dawn. She's not a girl to be hurried. Lighter moments arrive when they're ready. Darkness can be fine too, for a while.

I hate the morning. It assures me so much that there is a day about to begin that might bring many unexpected things. I don't want to say that I am always afraid to face a new day. But I rather enjoy the evening being comforted by the dark and the knowledge that I tried to give what was possible and even when I failed I know that at least sleep will cover me with comfort. Until the next morning.

Would they be forgiven in the morning, or turned adrift again!

I remember too many early mornings where my family would be rattling pots and pans, brewing hazelnut coffee, and suspending my sleep for the uncomfortable dread of the work day.

At length the morning dawned. It was no sooner light than it began to rain heavily.

The hour was morning’s prime, and on his way
Aloft the sun ascended with those stars,
That with him rose when Love Divine first moved
Those its fair works: so that with joyous hope
All things conspired to fill me, the gay skin
Of that swift animal, the matin dawn,
And the sweet season. Soon that joy was chased.
And by new dread succeeded, when in view
A lion came, ’gainst me as it appear’d,
With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,
That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf
Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem’d
Full of all wants, and many a land hath made
Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear
O’erwhelm’d me, at the sight of her appall’d,
That of the height all hope I lost. As one,
Who, with his gain elated, sees the time
When all unawares is gone, he inwardly
Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,
Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,
Who coming o’er against me, by degrees
Impell’d me where the sun in silence rests.