A.m Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 11698 quotes )
Scientists at first were skeptical that a kitten-type being could exist in the rare Martian atmosphere. As a test, two Earth kittens were put in a chamber that simulated the Martian air. The diary of this experiment is fascinating:6:00 A. M.: Kittens appear to sleep.7:02 A. M.: Kitten wakes, darts from one end of cage to another for no apparent reason.7:14 A. M.: Kitten runs up wall of cage, leaps onto other kitten for no apparent reason.7:22 A. M.: Kitten lies on back and punches other kitten for no apparent reason.7:30 A. M.: Kitten leaps, stops, darts left, abruptly stops, climbs wall, clings for two seconds, falls on head, darts right for no apparent reason.7:51 A. M.: Kitten parses first sentence of daily newspaper that is at bottom of chamber. With the exception of the parsing, all behavior is typical of Earth kitten behavior. The parsing activity, which was done with a small ball-point pen, was an anomaly.
During the night, I have one of those dreams that aren’t really dreams at all, just stuff about Laura fucking Ray, and Marco fucking Charlie, and I’m pleased to wake up in the middle of the night, because it means stopping the dream. But the pleasure only lasts a few seconds and then everything sinks in: that somewhere Laura really is fucking Ray (maybe not exactly now, because it’s 3:56 a. m., although with his stamina – his inability to climax, ha ha – you never know), and I’m here, in this stupid little flat, on my own, and I’m thirty-five years old, and I own a tiny failing business, and my friends don’t seem to be friends at all but people whose phone numbers I haven’t lost And if I went back to sleep and slept for forty years and woke up without any teeth to the sound of Melody Radio in an old people’s home, I wouldn’t worry that much, because the worst of life, i. e. the rest of it, would be over. And I wouldn’t even have had to kill myself.
Once or twice a week I would set my alarm for six A. M. so I could get up and plug in Hot Stix... I would study the curls in the mirror, impressed with both the appliance and my newfound ability to use it. Then, without fail, at the last second before leaving for school, I would ask myself, "Am I supposed to brush it out or leave it?" Why could I never remember" That feeling of "I'm pretty sure this next step is wrong, but I'm just gonna do it anyway" is part of the same set of instincts that makes me such a great cook.
Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that’s burned dry. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. It’s a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead – And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time...
I'm one of those passengers who arrives at the airport five or six hours early so I can throw back a few drinks and muster up the courage to board the plane. Apparently I'm not alone because I've never been in an empty airport bar. I don't care what time you get there. Even at 8:00 a. m. you have to fight your way to the bar. At that hour, everyone drinks Bloody Marys so no one can tell it's booze- at least until they fall off their chair.
You know that when Irving puts the dog in the car, it is no longer in the yard. When Edna goes to church, her head goes with her. If Doug is in the house, he must have gone through some opening unless he was born there and never left. If Sheila is alive at 9 A.M. and is alive at 5 P.M., she was also alive at noon. Zebras in the wild never wear underwear. Opening a jar of a new brand of peanut butter will not vaporize the house. People never shove meat thermometers in their ears. A gerbil is smaller than Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Most often, our water is shut off because of some reconstruction project, either in our village or in the next one over. A hole is dug, a pipe is replaced, and within a few hours things are back to normal. The mystery is that it's so perfectly timed to my schedule. That is to say that the tap dries up at the exact moment I roll out of bed, which is usually between 10:00 and 10:30. For me this is early, but for Hugh and most of our neighbors it's something closer to midday. What they do at 6:00 a. m. is anyone's guess. I only know that they're incredibly self-righteous about it and talk about the dawn as if it's a personal reward, bestowed on account of their great virtue.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A. M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
I quite clearly remember driving home at 9 a. m., after shooting all day, in a bathrobe, with bodypaint all over my face, and going through McDonald's drive-thru. I ordered a coffee to make sure I didn't crash on the way home. And the girl working there, she didn't even bat an eyelid. I guess it's a regular thing down in Hastings McDonald's.
The ot?ers went u?stairs, a slow unwilling pr?ce?sion. If this had been an old house, with crea?ing wood, and dark sha?ows, and hea?ily pa?elled walls, there might have been an eerie fee?ing. But this house was the essence of mode?n?ty. There were no dark corners - no po?s?ble sli?ing pa?els - it was floo?ed with ele?tric light - ever?thing was new and bright and shining. There was not?ing hi?den in this house, not?ing co?cealed. It had no a?m?sphere about it. Som?how, that was the most frigh?e?ing thing of all. They e?changed good-nights on the u?per lan?ing. Each of them went i?to his or her own room, and each of them automatica?ly, a?most wit?out co?scious thought, locked the door....
he last great ba?tle? said the Queen,?raged for three days here in Charn i?self. For three days I looked down upon it from this very spot. I did not use my power till the last of my so?diers had fallen, and the a?cursed woman, my si?ter, at the head of her rebels was halfway up those great stairs that lead up from the city to the te?race. Then I waited till we were so close that we could see one a?othe?s faces. She flashed her ho?r?ble, wicked eyes upon me and said,?Vi?tory??Yes? said I,?Vi?tory, but not yours? Then I spoke the D?plorable Word. A m?ment later I was the only li?ing thing b?neath the sun.
How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 8:30 a. m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?