Jeff Kinney Quotes

Come September, children return to school, grownups to work, and the brain to the head.

When autumn shadows throw their patterns across the land, they are not the images of fragile, dying leaves, not the bared arms of lofty elms, not shadows of a fading summer; but swinging shapes as of books upon a strap, of round and square boxes held under an arm, of hurrying little people heading towards the nearest school.

I hate mornings. They start so early.

Waking your kids up for school the first day after a break is almost as much fun as birthing them was.

it's back to school time. or as home-schoolers call it, stay-where-you-are time.

I hated high school. Ugh. I couldn't wait until it was over so I could sleep in. In college, I made sure all my classes were in the afternoon. I hated getting up in the morning.

Our son is in school now. You know, he's six-and-a-half and so a big chunk of the day is taken up by school. So I'm hoping that I'll be able to certainly take him to school in the morning, maybe pick him up in the afternoon and come back to work.

You really have to be a morning person if you want to be a teacher.

Part 3 BACK TO SCHOOL (THE NORMAL KIND)

It is a sad moment when the first phlox appears. It is the amber light indicating the end of the great burst of early summer and suggesting that we must now start looking forward to autumn. Not that I have any objection to autumn as a season, full of its own beauty; but I just cannot bear to see another summer go, and I recoil from what the first hint of autumn means.

Well, I spent six or seven years after high school trying to work myself up. Shipping clerk, salesman, business of one kind or another. And it's a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer. To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. And still — that's how you build a future.

The hardest part of the day is all the stuff after I open my eyes in the morning.

Every spring he vowed to quit teaching school, and every summer he missed his pupils and searched for them on the streets.

I wake up every morning. I open my eyes and think: here we go again.

Honestly, I don't always want to get up in the mornings, but I do anyway.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

My parents would have to put the fire hose on me to get me out of bed, to go to school in the morning. They would use a cattle prod and just shock me, or throw boiling water on me, or fire a gun next to my head, to get me out of bed.

All still when summer is over stand shocks in the field, nothing left to whisper, not even good-bye, to the wind. After summer was over we knew winter would come: we knew silence would wait, tall, patient calm.

Every morning I hear the alarm, it's like "BEEP BEEP BEEP" For second I'm like, "I could get used to that, just dream I'm in a techno club, or something."

You get up early in the morning and you work all day. That’s the only secret.

I'm getting paid to wake up America every morning!

One of the coolest and wisest hours a man has, is just after he awakes in the morning.

If you wake up in the morning with a great sense of the things that have to be done in the day in order to get through to the next day, you lose the sense of the day as any kind of end in itself.