A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.
Every morning I wake up with new ideas.
I spent every night until four in the morning on my dissertation, until I came to the point when I could not write another word, not even the next letter. I went to bed. Eight o’clock the next morning I was up writing again.
I eat a huge breakfast every morning. I do a lot of work at the gym, a lot of power-lifting, a lot of cardio, and I study wrestling tapes.
Father and son games – that was the best day. We’d be dressed at 6 o’clock in the morning. The game would be at 7 o’clock at night… And we’d play at, like, 5.
I might wake up in the morning and go out for a six- to eight-mile run, and then in the afternoon, I might swim two or three kilometres. The next day, I’ll mix it up and do a military circuit. I don’t stick to a set programme.
You can be in Tokyo or Alberta at four in the morning in your hotel and you can still practice if you feel like it. A trombone cannot do that at four in the morning.
I was the type of guy that used to get up in the morning and go out and just out run everybody on the field without stretching or warming up or anything.
I had been found in a mud puddle at 4:30 in the morning.
Since I was about seven, I’ve loved cooking. I’d wake up at five in the morning and make cinnamon rolls and all these different things.
I buck the trend: I eat avocados on a Sunday morning and I’m a homeowner.
For writing, I get up early in the morning – 5 o’clock, 4:30. I’m a morning person… So I try to do it while people are asleep. The mornings are the nicest.
Do and act on what you believe to be right, and you’ll wake up the next morning feeling good about yourself.
I was lucky because on the morning after the burning of the Reichstag I left my home very early to catch a train to Berlin for the conference of our student organization and that is the only reason why I escaped arrest.
I don’t go to Mass every day. But I go to church every day. Just sitting there, thinking – it’s a great way to start the morning, you know? You feel so good coming out, and your approach to everything is suddenly really clear.
I don’t have a trainer. I have what I call ‘the poor man’s workout and the rich man’s diet.’ I run for 1 hour every day and do 500 sit-ups and 1000 crunches, and I lift weights at the Y for 28 bucks a month, even if it’s 3 in the morning.
My garden in England is full of eating-out places, for heat waves, warm September evenings, or lunch on a frosty Christmas morning.
As far as I’m concerned, the entire reason for becoming a writer is not having to get up in the morning.
It seems a long time since the morning mail could be called correspondence.
Work is a prayer. And I start off every morning dedicating it to our Creator.
I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.
Even if I have already peaked, I have to believe I can improve. I wake up every morning, and go to practice, with the illusion that I’m going to get better that day.
Bacteria live in unbelievable mixtures of hundreds or thousands of species. Like on your teeth. There are 600 species of bacteria on your teeth every morning.
My father-in-law gets up at 5 o’clock in the morning and watches the Discovery Channel. I don’t know why there’s this big rush to do this.
I only had, like, 4 CDs when I was in college, and one of them was the soundtrack to ‘Good Morning Vietnam’ – that’s how much I don’t know about music.
