The morning is the best time, there are no people around. My pleasant disposition likes the world with nobody in it.
I love the idea of getting up early on Sundays and walking to the market to pick up fresh fruits and vegetables. It's a good way to start my day, and it makes me feel like I've accomplished something before other people are even awake.
I like to take a long time over breakfast, and I can't bear to talk. If a guest is a breakfast talker it's very important to invite another so they can talk to each other. Otherwise they spoil the newspaper reading and everything else.
I spent many a summer early morning with the radio very low, half sleeping and half listening.
It was so quiet that morning in Paris that the heels of my two companions and myself were loud on the deserted pavements. It was a city of shuttered shops, and barred windows, and deserted avenues.
I usually get up early because I like the quiet time in the morning to have my coffee, and I look at the news of the day, and give myself a chance to wake up.
The long morning shadows lay as still and dark as lakes and patterned the rough ground with straight margins.
A wine shop was open and I went in for some coffee. It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine glasses.
Outside the hospital, I squinted in the harsh morning sunlight. I could hear birds chirping in the tree, but even though I searched for them, they remained hidden from me.
My perfect morning is spent drinking coffee, eating porridge and reading the paper at a local cafe.
In the mornings when they were in the city, they had breakfast on a card table in Jeffrey's study
