morning

Champagne morning, sleepless grin, setting off and settling in. Today feels good.

The first few moments of the day are some of the most important as they can determine the mood for the rest of the day.

You have a clean slate every day you wake up. You have a chance every single morning to make that change and be the person you want to be. You just have to decide to do it. Decide today__ the day. Say it: this is going to be my day.

_to celebrate by making love the first snow of winter.

To say goodbye, is to die a little.To say good morning, is a hope for a new sunshine in a cloudy winter.

i'm glad to be alive in a world wherehis gently awakening eyesnourish the morning sun.

At the morning's PowerPoint It's full of unique bullet points

I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.

So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

...when she wakes up, there is silence, as though the day has held its breath.

It was the forty-fathom slumber that clears the soul and eye and heart, and sends you to breakfast ravening. They emptied a big tin dish of juicy fragments of fish- the blood-ends the cook had collected overnight. They cleaned up the plates and pans of the elder mess, who were out fishing, sliced pork for the midday meal, swabbed down the foc'sle, filled the lamps, drew coal and water for the cook, an investigated the fore-hold, where the boat's stores were stacked. It was another perfect day - soft, mild and clear; and Harvey breathed to the very bottom of his lungs.

Morning"SUNThat awakens ParisThe highest poplar on the bank On The Eiffel TowerA tricolored cockSings to the flapping of his wingsand several feathers fallAs it resumes its course The Seine looks between the bridgesFor her old routeAnd the Obelisk That has forgotten the Egyptian words Has not blossomed this yearSUN

It was a chilly morning after the night's rain, and the sun hung in the sky like a pale coin lost by someone high up in the clouds.

Now that your eyes are open, make the sun jealous with your burning passion to start the day. Make the sun jealous or stay in bed.

The city of San Francisco engulfed their view through the front windshield. The dazzling light of the late morning sun transformed every glass and metal surface into a silvery mirage.

It was one of those bitter mornings when the whole of nature is shiny, brittle, and hard, like crystal. The trees, decked out in frost, seem to have sweated ice; the earth resounds beneath one's feet; the tiniest sounds carry a long way in the dry air; the blue sky is bright as a mirror, and the sun moves through space in icy brilliance, casting on the frozen world rays which bestow no warmth upon anything.

I very carefully levered up an eyelid and shut it again fast. A merciless sunbeam had squirted straight in, making my brain bleed.

The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.