A Quote by Anna Letitia Barbauld

The dead of midnight is the noon of thought. — © Anna Letitia Barbauld
The dead of midnight is the noon of thought.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
I got players with bad watches - they can't tell midnight from noon.
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
This will wreck you! Today, treat everyone you meet as if they're going to be dead by midnight. extend all the kindness and understanding you can, and do it with no thought of any reward.
Twilight makes us pensive; Aurora is the goddess of activity; despair curses at midnight; hope blesses at noon.
I have just learned a delicious French usage. On wedding invitations when they say the mass is at noon they mean one o'clock -when they say at noon precise they mean half after twelve - and when they say at very precisely noon they mean noon.
Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.
Energy is felt once the cards are dealt With the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts that attack the microphone like cyclones or typhoons I represent from midnight to high noon.
My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?
At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dressed in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the clock chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the clouds return. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream.
Hunger in the midnight, hunger at the stroke of noon Hunger in the banquet, hunger in the bride and groom Hunger on the TV, hunger on the printed page And there's a God-sized hunger underneath the questions of the age
Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What's happened to the world?
The reality of living by faith as though we were already dead, of living by faith in open communion with God, and then stepping back into the external world as though we are already raised from the dead, this is not once for all, it is a matter of moment-by-moment faith, and living moment by moment. This morning's faith will never do for this noon. The faith of this noon will never do for suppertime . The faith of suppertime will never do for the next morning. Thank God for the reality for which we were created, a moment-by-moment communication with God himself.
I think about life and death a lot. For the longest time I thought this was it, but then I thought maybe reincarnation does exist and we will all come back. My new thought is either of these could be true, but realistically what is going to happen is when you are dead you are not going to know you are dead, so it's not the end of the world.
I feel like I'm going to get myself into trouble by saying too much. But throughout my 20s, I think a 'Midnight Kiss' game was always a game. You know, go to a party with a couple friends and you look around like, 'Who I want to be my midnight kiss?' It truly is a thought process.
Inspiration,' the false artist says,'it just comes to me.' And it shows.His pictures are as like as the four walls of his room -- morning, evening, midnight, noon. For myself, I have to search for it. The whole world is your palate, but only if you reach, take hold of what you need and pocket it.
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