Donna

“They know these mornings well and love them desperately because they cannot last - these people who know that nothing lasts.”
― Peter S. Beagle, A Fine and Private Place

“The sun was up, the room already too warm. Light filtered in through the net curtains, hanging suspended in the air, sediment in a pond. My head felt like a sack of pulp. Still in my nightgown, damp from some fright I'd pushed aside like foliage, I pulled myself up and out of my tangled bed, then forced myself through the usual dawn rituals - the ceremonies we perform to make ourselves look sane and acceptable to other people. The hair must be smoothed down after whatever apparitions have made it stand on end during the night, the expression of staring disbelief washed from the eyes. The teeth brushed, such as they are. God knows what bones I'd been gnawing in my sleep.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

“The sun just touched the morning;
The morning, happy thing,
Supposed that he had come to dwell,
And life would be all spring.”
― Emily Dickinson, The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson

“Dawn and its excesses always reminded me of heaven, a place where I have always known I would not be comfortable.”
― Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping