The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert.
Have you seen the careful manner in which deer drink from a lake at sunrise? That is the way she moves. Have you ever heard the sound a shooting star makes as it crosses a cloudy sky? That is the way she breathes.
Easter is… oining in a birdsong, ying an early sunrise, melling yellow daffodils, nbolting windows and doors, kipping through meadows, uddling newborns, oping, believing, eviving spent life, nhaling fresh air, prinkling seeds along furrows, racking...
Life is like a Sunset and Sunrise, when sun goes down it will raise back again next day, life is also same way, sometimes we have to face good as well as bad situation which will help us to learn new things which we never excepted that will happen.
Jesse: I kind of see this all love as this, escape for two people who don't know how to be alone. People always talk about how love is this totally unselfish, giving thing, but if you think about it, there's nothing more selfish.
Jesse: [stops Celine and positions her in front of him at arm's length] Celine: What? Jesse: Uh... I'm gonna take your picture. So I never forget you or, uh, or all this. Celine: Okay. Me too.
From a building right in front of my windows, I can observe the speed of the sunrises and sunsets. The voices of children playing, laughing, yelling, and crying on the playground crawl up to the eighth floor, where I write. Their voices sound so inno...
With every sunrise, we get to choose ... who we are, what we believe, and how we will live the life the gods have given us. We can’t always choose our circumstances. No. The Fates do that. But we can always choose who we will be and how we will be ...
Maria cries unashamedly on my shoulder while I whisper and pet her cheek, but Anastasia grips my other hand and stares fiercely back at our Alexander Palace with her wet blue eyes until it is no more than a lemon-colored speck against the sunrise.
Starting the day—Another chance to be new again. How many of us still wish for that? To be your own sunrise. To awaken like a prayer—both solemn and joyful at still being alive . . .
Starting the day - Another chance to be new again. How many of us still wish for that? To be your own sunrise. To awaken like a prayer - both solemn and joyful at still being alive.
Starting the Day— Another chance to be new again. How many of us still wish for that? To be your own sunrise. To awaken like a prayer -both solemn and joyful at still being alive.
Evil exists in this world because it has its place. For had you never sat blindly through the darkness of night, your eyes wouldn't turn toward the sunrise to appreciate its warmth and illumination.
Every sunrise is priceless and you can experience the richness that life holds only when you live life to the full instead of just being an onlooker.
This is what books only aimed to do and never could. Give you the glint of someone else's sunrise, what living is really like, you get old and it hurts to bend your elbow; your friends start to die, you can’t get fresh fruit in the shops.
Visitation Day - I was not even born yet when the world stopped turning, twenty years ago. It is hard for me to imagine that moment, though I have heard the tale many times, for I have never seen the light of the moon or a sunrise
Yes, one whose faith is continually stimulated by the upward look gives no ground to the attempted encroachment of despair. No matter how great the trouble or how dark the outlook, a quick lifting of the heart to God in a moment of real actual faith ...
Jesse: I don't know, I think that if I could just accept the fact that my life is supposed to be difficult. You know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'll just be glad when something nice happens.
Celine: Even though I reject most of the religious things I can't help but feeling for all those people that come here lost or in pain, guilt, looking for some kind of answers. It fascinates me how a single place can join so much pain and happiness f...
I saw the spiders marching through the air, Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day In latter August when the hay Came creaking to the barn. But where The wind is westerly, Where gnarled November makes the spiders fly Into the apparitions of the...
A magpie can be happy or sad: sometimes so happy that he sits on a high, high gum tree and rolls the sunrise around in his throat like beads of pink sunlight; and sometimes so sad that you would expect the tears to drip off his beak. This magpie was ...
