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Morning Quotes

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Morning Quotes

“There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings Then a strange blight crept over the area and everything began to change There was a strange stillness The few birds seen anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently and could not fly. It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of scores of bird voices there was now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and woods and marsh.”

HeartAmericaSoundVoiceSilenceMorningFieldsStrangeSpringBirdAreasTownsHarmonyLaysWoodsDawnScoreStillnessSurroundingsChorusEcoMarshesBlight
Author:Rachel Carson
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“It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of robins, catbirds, doves, jays, wrens, and scores of other bird voices there was now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and woods and marsh... Even the streams were now lifeless... No witchcraft, no enemy action had silenced the rebirth of new life in this stricken world. The people had done it themselves.”

PeopleWorldDoneActionSoundVoiceSilenceEnemyMorningFieldsSpringBirdLaysWoodsDawnStreamsScoreNew LifeRebirthWitchcraftDoveChorusRobinsLifelessMarshesWrens
Book:Silent Spring
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“The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window; the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around; the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.”

IfsLittlesInspirationNatureMorningRichAirSweetFlowerBirdHundredGardenWindowGreenRoseSmellGentleLeafsFountainPerfumeChamberDewMeadowsSparklingFlower GardenMorning Dew
Book:The posthumous papers of the Pickwick Club
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“In Nepal, the phenomenon is reversed. Time is a stick of incense that burns without being consumed. One day can seem like a week; a week, like months. Mornings stretch out and crack their spines with the yogic impassivity of house cats. Afternoons bulge with a succulent ripeness, like fat peaches. There is time enough to do everything - write a letter, eat breakfast, read the paper, visit a shrine or two, listen to the birds, bicycle downtown to change money, buy postcards, shop for Buddhas - and arrive home in time for lunch.”

WritingTwoEnoughHomeSeemsHouseMorningWeekMonthsOne DayPaperBirdCatLettersSticksFatsShopsPhenomenonCracksBreakfastLunchAfternoonConsumedBicycleSpineDowntownPeachesShrinesIncenseNepalPostcardsRipenessSucculents
Book:Shopping for Buddhas: An Adventure in Nepal
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“I don't like crows. In the poem "C," crows are predatory, killing other birds and so forth. But in my morning walks, there were always crows, particularly at certain times of the year. And they're very aggressive, very visible and loud. They're not at all likable, but they have to be dealt with. They are part of the picture, the art in the morning. You cannot deny their reality.”

YearsArtRealityCertainWalksMorningBirdKillingDenyLoudVisibleAggressiveCrowPredatoryMorning WalkKilling Others
Author:Shirley Geok-lin Lim
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