morning

Dorothy scratched her dark head, yawning wide, and white feathers floated out of her hair.

I like the posture, but not the yoga. I like the inebriated morning, but not the opium. I like the flower but not the garden, the moment but not the dream. Quiet, my love. Be still. I am sleeping.

Within this raindrop there must be a heart- a heart that weeps the pain of longing. I have her in my palm where the silvery rays of the morn reflect the beauty of the whole cosmos and I kiss her with all my yearning!

To wake up each morning is a miracle.

I am not a Sunday morning inside four wallswith clean bloodand organized drawers.I am the hurricane setting fire to the forestsat night when no one else is aliveor awakehowever you choose to see itand I live in my own flamessometimes burning too bright and too wildto make things lastor handlemyself or anyone elseand so I run.run run runfar and wideuntil my bones ache and lungs splitand it feels good.Hear that people? It feels goodbecause I am the slave and ruler of my own bodyand I wish to do with it exactly as I please

God command the sun to rise every new morning.

I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn't even tell the difference.

Drink your coffee, it clears out the brain in the morning

I want to live my life in such a way that when I get out of bed in the morning, the devil says, "aw shit, he's up!

I am not addicted to coffee, it find it's way every morning.

A wise man nourishes his soul each morning with the word of God and enriches his day with God's wisdom. Psalm 19:7.

I never wake up in the morning and wonder why I am here. I wake up and wonder why I am not making here better.

Body is morning dew that shines to the rise of the hands. (Corps est rosée du matin - Qui brille au lever des mains.)

When we first wake up every morning, there__ a calm in our minds. The challenge is to keep it there all day.

Love is blind. Especially in the morning, because I can't see a damn thing before having coffee.

You know you love him when you can't sleep at night and get up early to talk to him the next morning.

Two-thirty in the morning was kind of a bitch as times went. It fell into the in-between, nowhere land. Too late to get a really good night's sleep, but much too early to start the day.

All he could do was wait like this, patiently, until it grew light out and the birds awoke and began their day. All he could do was trust in the birds, in all the birds, with their wings and beaks.