New Collection of Good Morning Quotes

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In the morning I awake, and find the old world, wife, babes, and mother, Concord and Boston, the dear old spiritual world, and even the dear old devil not far off. If we shall take the good we find, asking no questions, we shall have heaping measures.

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in the morning Should I not pause in the light to remember God? Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable, He is immense and lonely as a cloud.

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In the morning, everything is new. The day’s blank slate lies before me, ready for my writing. May it be words of beauty I write. May it be deeds of grace I do. May it be thoughts of joy I think. All the Holy Ones, Listen; this is what I pray. Great Spirits of the Four Realms, Holy Ones of the Realms of Minds, Kindreds of Yore, as I go through the day, keep my eyes open wide. May I not miss beauty. May I not miss joy. May I not miss wonder. Keep me awake and aware of the world. It is my privilege to perform my morning prayers. It is my honor to do what should be done. As I rise with the morning, fog lifting slowly for my mind, I pray not to forget these truths. Awen.

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It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do.

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Its brightness, mighty divinity! has a fleeting empire over the day, giving gladness to the fields, color to the flowers, the season of the loves, harmonious hour of wakening birds.

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Jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-top.

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Let the day have a blessed baptism by giving your first waking thoughts into the bosom of God. The first hour of the morning is the rudder of the day.

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Let your sleep be necessary and healthful, not idle and expensive of time, beyond the needs and conveniences of nature; and sometimes be curious to see the preparation which the sun makes when he is coming forth from his chambers of the east.

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Lift through the breaking day, Wind that pursues the dawn …

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Like pearl Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn Upon the bashful rose.

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Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.

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Macbeth. What is the night? Lady Macbeth. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

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Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun Peered forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from this city side, So early walking did I see your son.

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May dawn, as the proverb goes, bring happy tidings coming from her mother night.

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Men are as innocent as the morning to the unsuspicious.

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Mighty Nature bounds as from her birth, The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth; Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam, Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.

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Morn in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold.

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Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf.

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Morn, Wak’d by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr’d the gates of light.

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Morning at last: there in the snow Your small blunt footprints come and go.


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