I mean, if you have to wake up in the morning to be validated by the editorial page of the New York Times, you got a pretty sorry existence.
Make no mistake: Bob Ritchie's up early in the morning taking pictures of his son on the first day of his senior year. Kid Rock is passed out in a hotel room somewhere with four scantily-clad women.
Dr. Louis Bush Swisher died from the complications of a brain aneurysm that burst without warning one sunny Sunday morning less than 40 years ago.
Mark Zuckerberg needs no introduction these days, what with all the magazine covers and morning news shows. My mother knows who he is now, and my mother can hardly turn on a computer.
My typical morning involves some time on the treadmill, but obviously I skip that a lot. Mostly, I wake up, check my email, then get to work on the various interviews and questions and phone calls that come with being an author.
I'm at the stage in my pregnancy where I don't feel pregnant. You feel very, 'Oh yeah, I'm pregnant,' because you're over the morning sickness and it's not too uncomfortable. It's fun.
I am a bit obsessive about tidiness. I need to make my bed in the morning and leave it perfectly made up.
I try to make films that I find exciting. It makes me want to get out of bed at five in the morning, have my make-up done and play for the rest of the day.
Making films can be absolutely fantastic, but it can also be incredibly dull. You spend the whole day sitting by yourself in your trailer and then you get called to deliver one sentence - then you're told to come back and do it again at 5:30 the foll...
I can write all the way through the morning, when my mind is clear, and there are no distractions.
We're no longer a newspaper in the morning, we're a 24/7 newspaper organization.
In the morning we received some very thin coffee. For lunch we had potato soup with a few pieces of meat in it, in the evening we had a very thin meat soup with some potatoes in it.
And I know this happens because I took economics, and I'd explain it to ya, but I flunked that course. Not my fault. They taught it at 8 o'clock in the morning. And there is absolutely nothing you can learn out of one bloodshot eye.
Some days I would be there at ten in the morning and wouldn't leave till ten at night, and the others would waltz in for a couple of hours and then leave, because I was doing that painting thing. And they were happy to see that being done.
I walk into the office at Southwark Bridge every morning, and I have no idea what's going to happen.
I had no occasion for an apron on that morning.
As far as sleeping goes, you're up and ready to go at six in the morning. Spring training was always a combination of relaxing and working, and I missed that quite a bit. I missed being around the ball field. A baseball. A bat. The smell of the unifo...
I've had some pretty awful jobs that I don't miss, like working on a nightclub door, or compiling VIP lists at 3 A.M. in the morning, but sometimes it's just got to be done.
When I wake up in the morning, I feel just like any other insecure 24-year-old girl.
What the Danes left in Ireland were hens and weasels. And when the cock crows in the morning, the country people will always say 'It is for Denmark they are crowing. Crowing they are to be back in Denmark.'
I don't know in the world why anyone would consent to be a king, and never to be left to himself, but to be worried and wearied and interfered with from dark to daybreak and from morning to the fall of night.
