Jonathan Safran Foer Quotes

It was the beginning of a day in June; the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The streets were, as yet, nearly free from passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels, on the sleeping town.

Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.

All silence is. All emptiness. And now: The dawn.

I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!

This morning came on to me, silver wings silhouetted against the child's sunrise.

The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.

I'm a very early riser, and I don't like to miss that beautiful early morning light.

I have not much love for the bright lights - unless it's the sun creeping up over the horizon.

I love the sunrise, as I am definitely a morning person! It's a great time to get up and have a coffee in the garden by myself before everybody wakes up.

The shadows in the early morning don't tell much. The shadows rest at that time. So it's useless to gaze very early in the day. Around six in the morning the shadows wake up, and they are best around five in the afternoon. Then they are fully awake.

There is no solemnity so deep, to a right-thinking creature, as that of dawn.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold.

Too soon, the sun will rise.

Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.

There is something to be said for waking up every morning and seeing the sun.

The thinnest tendrils of dawn are creeping in from the east. People in New York are softly starting to tweet.

It was dawn now on Long Island and we went about opening the rest of the windows downstairs, filling the house with gray-turning, gold-turning light. The Shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the dew and ghostly birds began to sing among the blue leaves. There was a slow, pleasant movement in the air, scarcely a wind, promising a cool, lovely day.

Get up early in the morning before everybody has breathed up all the good air.

The long morning shadows lay as still and dark as lakes and patterned the rough ground with straight margins.

Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, comes dancing from the east.

I get up very early in the morning. I enjoy the quietness, the stillness, the rawness in the winter and fall. It's a special time.

The light of morning decomposes everything.

At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.