Michael Cunningham Quotes About Morning

• Recuerdo que una mañana, al levantarme al amanecer, tenía una sensación de posibilidad. Ya sabes, esa sensación. Y recuerdo que pensé: Este es el comienzo de la felicidad. Aquí es donde empieza. Y, por supuesto, siempre habrá más. Nunca se me ocurrió que no era el principio. Era la felicidad. Era el momento. En ese momento.

  Michael Cunningham

  Morning, Thinking, Feelings

  "The Hours". www.imdb.com. 2002.

• There is just this for consolation: an hour here or there, when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined , though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so.

  Michael Cunningham

  Morning, Children, Odds

  Michael Cunningham (1998). “The Hours: A Novel”, p.225, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

• What a thrill, what a shock, to be alive on a morning in June, prosperous, almost scandalously privileged, with a simple errand to run.

  Michael Cunningham

  Running, Morning, Simple

  Michael Cunningham (2013). “The Hours”, p.10, HarperCollins UK

• What I wanted to do seemed simple. I wanted something alive and shocking enough that it could be a morning in somebody's life. The most ordinary morning. Imagine, trying to do that.

  Michael Cunningham

  Morning, Simple, Trying

  Michael Cunningham (1998). “The Hours: A Novel”, p.199, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

• Like the morning you walked out of that old house, when you were eighteen and I was, well, I had just turned nineteen, hadn't I? I was a nineteen-year-old and I was in love with Louis and I was in love with you, and I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful as the sight of you walking out a glass door in the early morning, still sleepy, in your underwear. Isn't it strange?

  Michael Cunningham

  Beautiful, Morning, Love You

  Michael Cunningham (1998). “The Hours: A Novel”, p.199, Farrar, Straus and Giroux

• La puerta del vestíbulo se abre a una mañana de junio tan fina y limpia que Classira se detiene en el umbral como lo haría al borde de una piscina, observando el agua turquesa que baña las baldosas, las redes líquidas del sol que se agitan en las profundidades azules. Como si estuviera al borde de una piscina, retrasa un momento la zambullida, la rápida membrana de frío, el simple choque de la inmersión.

  Michael Cunningham

  Morning, June, Blue

  Michael Cunningham (1998). “The Hours: A Novel”, p.9, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

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