Another Day Closer Quotes

The Sun Will Rise Tomorrow Everyone suffers from one bad day. Others suffer for months on end. Just know that the sun will rise tomorrow, And then the wind can blow in your hair again. Giving up is easy, But living life is well worth the reward. So wake up tomorrow. It's another day closer, another step forward to feel the wind. It's worth waking up tomorrow to see your suffering end. -Sarah Brianne ~ Sarah Brianne

And with that reunion ... it was like I was emerging from a cave-one I'd been in for almost five weeks-into the bright light of day. When Dimitri had turned, I'd felt like I'd lost part of my soul. When I'd left Lissa, another piece had gone. Now, seeing her ... I began to think maybe my soul might be able to heal. Maybe I could go on after all. I didn't feel 100 percent whole yet, but her presence filled up that missing part of me. I felt more like myself than I had in ages. ~ Richelle Mead

One day I will
say
the gift I once had
has been taken,
the place I have
made for myself
belongs to another,
and the words I have sung
are being sung by the ones
I would want.

Then I will be ready
for that voice
and the still silence
in which it arrives.

And if my faith is good
then we'll meet again
on the road
and we'll be thirsty,
and stop
and laugh
and drink together again
from the deep well
of things as they are.

... ~ David Whyte

They ask me what kind of perfume I wear or how I choose a signature scent or what to wear to what occasion. The truth is, I just go into the perfumery and pick out the most beautiful smell. I sniff the scent and then see with my mind's eye the vision that it brings to my heart. If I want to wear that vision with me every day until the bottle is all used-up, then that's the perfume I'll purchase. And I do use it up until there's nothing left and only then do I go out to buy another one. Another vision for another year or two. Fragrance, to me, is about wearing a perspective on your skin. The scent itself is the vehicle by which you can be reminded of those pictures that those notes have opened in your soul. ~ C. JoyBell C.

Listen," he says. "I know earlier I said just a day, but that was…I wasn't being completely honest. And I know if I let you get in your car and drive away again without telling you the truth, I'll regret it all the way home."
He drops his eyes to the ground for a moment, then brings them back up to mine. "Anyway. I promise I won't surprise you at your door again, but if you ever decide you want another day–ever–I have lots of them, and I …I liked this one. ~ Jessi Kirby

As we do what He would have us do for His children, the Lord considers it kindness to Him, and we will feel closer to Him as we feel His love and His approval. In time, we will become like Him, and will think of the judgement day with happy anticipation. ~ Henry B. Eyring

In the morning, in the morning,
In the happy field of hay,
Oh they looked at one another
By the light of day.
In the blue and silver morning
On the haycock as they lay,
Oh they looked at one another
And they looked away. ~ A.E. Housman

When she opened her eyes, she was both in her body and watching it, nowhere near the cavity of the tree. The Blue that was before her stood inches from a boy in an Aglionby sweater. There was a slight stoop to his posture, and his shoulders were spattered darkly with rain. It was his fingers that Blue felt on her face. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Tears coursed down the other Blue's face. Though some strange magic, Blue could feel them on her face as well. She could feel, too, sick, rising misery she'd felt in the churchyard, the grief that felt bigger than her. The other Blue's tears seemed endless. One drop slid after another, each following an identical path down her cheeks.
The boy in the Aglionby sweater leaned his forehead against Blue's. She felt the pressure of his skin against hers, and suddenly she could smell mint.
It'll be okay. Gansey told the other Blue. She could tell that he was afraid. It'll be okay.
Impossibly, Blue realized that this other Blue was crying because she loved Gansey. And that the reason Gansey touched her like that, his fingers so careful with her, was because he knew that her kiss could kill him. She could feel how badly the other Blue wanted to kiss him, even as she dreaded it. Though she couldn't understand why, her real, present day memories in the tree cavity were clouded with other false memories of their lips nearly touching, a life this other Blue had already lived.
Okay, I'm ready- Gan ~ Maggie Stiefvater

The Troubadours Etc."

Just for this evening, let's not mock them.
Not their curtsies or cross-garters
or ever-recurring pepper trees in their gardens
promising, promising.

At least they had ideas about love.

All day we've driven past cornfields, past cows poking their heads
through metal contraptions to eat.
We've followed West 84, and what else?
Irrigation sprinklers fly past us, huge wooden spools in the fields,
lounging sheep, telephone wires,
yellowing flowering shrubs.

Before us, above us, the clouds swell, layers of them,
the violet underneath of clouds.
Every idea I have is nostalgia. Look up:
there is the sky that passenger pigeons darkened and filled -
darkened for days, eclipsing sun, eclipsing all other sound
with the thunder of their wings.
After a while, it must have seemed that they followed
not instinct or pattern but only
one another.

When they stopped, Audubon observed,
they broke the limbs of stout trees by the weight of the numbers.

And when we stop we'll follow - what?
Our hearts?

The Puritans thought that we are granted the ability to love
only through miracle,
but the troubadours knew how to burn themselves through,
how to make themselves shrines to their own longing.
The spectacular was never behind them.

Think of days of those scarlet-breasted, blue-winged ~ Mary Szybist

When the author is not traveling, he works at an L-shaped desk, which affords a view north through a large sunny window. He writes everything on an electric typewriter because "it has to be a book from the first day," he explains. He has no daily routine because of all the traveling he does, but follows a very disciplined writing process. He writes each page six times, then places it in a three-ring binder with a DePauw University cover ("a talisman," he calls this memento from his alma mater). When he feels that he has gotten a page just right, he takes out another 20 words. "After a year, I've come to the end. Then I'll take this first chapter, and without rereading it, I'll throw it away and write the chapter that goes at the beginning. Because the first chapter is the last chapter in disguise." He always hands in a completed manuscript, and his editor is his first reader. ~ Jennifer M. Brown

In Port William, more than anyplace else I had been, this religion that scorned the beauty and goodness of this world was a puzzle to me. To begin with, I don't think anybody believed it. I still don't think so. Those world-condemning sermons were preached to people who, on Sunday mornings, would be wearing their prettiest clothes. Even the old widows in their dark dresses would be pleasing to look at. By dressing up on the one day when most of them had leisure to do it, they had signified their wish to present themselves to one another and to Heaven looking their best. The people who heard those sermons loved good crops, good gardens, good livestock and work animals and dogs; they loved flowers and the shade of trees, and laughter and music; some of them could make you a fair speech on the pleasures of a good drink of water or a patch of wild raspberries. While the wickedness of the flesh was preached from the pulpit, the young husbands and wives and the courting couples sat thigh to thigh, full of yearning and joy, and the old people thought of the beauty of the children. And when church was over they would go home to Heavenly dinners of fried chicken, it might be, and creamed new potatoes and hot biscuits and butter and cherry pie and sweet milk and buttermilk. And the preacher and his family would always be invited to eat with somebody and they would always go, and the preacher, having just foresworn on behalf of everybody the joys of the flesh, would eat with unconsecrat ~ Wendell Berry

I'd still love you,
If the world stops spinning
If heaven and hell tear us apart
If you ever forget me

I'd still love you,
If I find out you weren't made for me
If these years in my life were nothing but a lesson
If we were just a bad dream

Darling, I'd still love you,
If I never hold you in my arms
If I never hear you speak

I'd still love you,
If one day I love another and
If you don't love me,
I'd still love you ~ Richa Gill

I really enjoy writing and producing for other artists. Some people save their best songs for their own albums. I'd rather give another artist one of my songs. At the end of the day, it still represents me. ~ Missy Elliot

In every book I read, I see you. I see you in every heroine who isn't afraid to stand up and say whatever's on her mind. I see you in every heroine who wears the term "unlikable" like a badge of honor. I see you in every heroine who's had to endure the unimaginable, yet still finds the strength to fight another day. I see you in every heroine who's had to carry a revolution she never asked to be a part of in the first place.
- You are the strongest person I know. ~ Cyrus Parker

One reason I can be more tolerant than most is that as a therapist I have the advantage of information about my patients that most people are not privy to. And I discover that we rarely if ever see the totality of another in ordinary social intercourse. When an individual appears mean and lazy, we are only seeing one part of the person, elicited by a particular set of circumstances on a particular day, and we do well to wait a while before concluding that what we see is the whole person. ~ Alan Loy McGinnis

Emotions are lovely. Even if they fall to the negative for a time. The sun will rise again another day. The sadness perhaps never forgotten, but a new day enjoyed in another way. A way that could not have been but for the sadness's existence. ~ Anne Mallory

Well, I did tell you I couldn't give you a thing. Maybe you've just realised that Alistair can give the god damn world, and the pleasure of kissing his shiny slap-head every day! ~ LeeAnn Whitaker

May every day be a new beginning, and every dawn bring us closer to that shining city upon a hill. ~ Ronald Reagan

Once you lose attachment to how you want things to be because you realize you don't control anything, there's a curiously liberating aspect of that. I've always been a control freak, I've always felt that if I try hard enough, everyone I love will be kept safe and everything will be okay. Being shown, in such brutal terms, that that's simply not the way it works, in someways, it messed me up. I've been through hell, but on another level, if you pile up so much tragedy, it either destroys you, or you just start laughing about it. Because at the end of the day, no one gets out alive. ~ Daniele Bolelli

You who wronged a simple man
Bursting into laughter at the crime,
And kept a pack of fools around you
To mix good and evil, to blur the line,
Though everyone bowed down before you,
Saying virtue and wisdom lit your way,
Striking gold medals in your honor,
Glad to have survived another day,
Do not feel safe. The poet remembers.
You can kill one, but another is born.
The words are written down, the deed, the date.
And you'd have done better with a winter dawn,
A rope, and a branch bowed beneath your weight. ~ Czeslaw Milosz

Alexander. Here he is, before he was Tatiana's, at the age of twenty, getting his medal of valor for bringing back Yuri Stepanov during the 1940 Winter War. Alexander is in his dress Soviet uniform, snug against his body, his stance at-ease and his hand up to his temple in teasing salute. There is a gleaming smile on his face, his eyes are carefree, his whole man-self full of breath-taking, aching youth. And yet, the war was on, and his men had already died and frozen and starved … and his mother and father were gone… and he was far away from home, and getting farther and farther, and every day was his last – one way or another, every day was his last. And yet, he smiles, he shines, he is happy. ~ Paullina Simons

Writing is hard. Writing that is good, writing that is powerful enough to evoke a change or an authentic emotion or even just an idea in another human being is about as mysterious as an alchemical recipe, but there are a few known ingredients. Craft? Yes, absolutely. Devotion? A load - yes! Humility? Not vital, I suppose, but all my favorites include at least a dash. Before those can be added to the cauldron though, you must have a base of Honesty. Honesty is difficult to find in public spaces these days (and getting harder every goddamn day) but if you're quiet, and patient, you can usually find some hidden in your room somewhere. (It helps to turn off the lights, for some reason.) Problem is, Honesty is invariably bound to Vulnerability and the only thing that cuts the bitterness of Vulnerability is Courage. And Courage?
Well. Courage is the hardest thing of all. ~ Kelly Sue DeConnick

Good morning on the 7th of July.
while still in bed my thoughts turn towards you my Immortal Beloved, now and then happy, then sad again, waiting whether Fate might answer us. – I can only live either wholly with you or not at all, yes, I have resolved to stray about far away until I can fly into your arms, and feel at home with you, and send my soul embraced by you into the realm of the Spirits. – Yes, unfortunately it must be. – You will compose yourself, all the more since you know my faithfulness to you, never can another own my heart, never – never. – Oh God why do I have to separate from someone whom I love so much, and yet my life in V[ienna] as it is now is a miserable life. – Your love makes me at once most happy and most unhappy. – At my age, I would now need some conformity regularity in my life – can this exist in our relationship? – Angel, I just learned that the post goes every day – and I must therefore conclude so that you get the l[etter] straightway – be patient, only through quiet contemplation of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together – be calm – love me – today – yesterday. – What yearning with tears for you – you – you – my life – my everything – farewell – oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your Beloved
L.
Forever thine
forever mine
forever us. ~ Ludwig Van Beethoven

Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day. ~ Walter De La Mare

Do not wait another day to become fully engaged in your life, to learn to love and to forgive, and to live with greater purpose & meaning. ~ Debbie Ford

But if you are a poor creature--...do not despair. He knows all about it. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all--not least yourself; for you have learned your driving in a hard school. ~ C.S. Lewis

They [heterosexual cis women] are accepted in the straight mainstream way more readily than I [trans woman] will ever be. But they are marginalized in their day-to-day lives because they are feminine. To argue that they are reinforcing the binary, or the patriarchy or the hegemonic gender system, because they are conventional feminine (as opposed to subversively feminine) essentially implies that they are enabling their own oppression. This is just another variation of the claim that rapists make when they insinuate that the woman in question was 'asking for it' because of what she was wearing or how she behaved. ~ Julia Serano

Every day I don't Google my name, there's another beautiful day. ~ Bill Callahan

I rise.
Again. And again.
Not as the morning bird
whose song springs
to sudden glorious life
at the dawning of the light,
but as the sun
who touches the horizon
with tender fingertips
before reaching open arms
across the sky
to embrace another day
to weather the storms
to stand tall and breathe fire
and then to descend into rest
until it's time to rise again.
And again
I rise. ~ L.R. Knost

Tomorrow was another day, at least by the calendar, but the two could hardly be told apart: the heat, the faintly drifting cloud, the ship pitching heavily with no way on her, the flaccid sails, were all the same: ~ Patrick O'Brian

And so, she turned her back on the abyss for another day. ~ Megan Kennedy

I look forward to the day the cross sits discarded beside the swastika as just another reminder of the dangers of blind faith. ~ Craig Smith

-I told you:
My heart is from another youth
My blood, from another sea
Do not come close to my shores
But do not wander far from my lands
For it is in your eyes
Alone
That I look for the day
And on your lips
Alone
That I look for the rain
I give you my island
My storms and my tide
If you let me moor
To your quiet waters
And hide under flowers. ~ Emmanuelle Soni-Dessaigne

Why did you come back to Salt Lake?" I knew the answer before I asked the question and he knew I knew, and it was like you could see the shadow of it hanging there between us.
"I needed to see you," he finally said. "It's hard to explain."
"You don't have to."
"I tried telling my mom once what happed that day. Showed her the hole in the window screen and Moe and even after that she said it was complicated, that my dad's a complicated man and we all needed to try harder to understand him." His voice was shaking now. "And I thought, hey, maybe she's right. Maybe he was just playing around, you know. Maybe we didn't need to run."
"We did," I whispered.
"That's why I had to come, see?" He didn't move and I didn't move, but in a few seconds I heard him sniffling and he couldn't stop and I knew he was crying. "Cameron." I propped myself up, reached out my arm. "Come here." He got up and came to me, dragging his blanket behind him like a child. I scooted over in my bed to make room. "Come on."
He positioned himself beside me-I stayed under the covers, he was on top of them, his head next to mine on the pillow. I stroked his hair and thought of the week he'd lived at our house, the way we slept shoulder to shoulder in our sleeping bags in the living room and I got another good memory.
Jennifer, Cameron had said. You awake?
His voice was coming from across the room. I sat up. Yeah.
Look. He was standing by the living room window. The blinds ~ Sara Zarr

Comfortable giving anybody ... things that were all about what he had done in the shower and in his bed alone during the day ... was not getting airtime here. Besides, his mind and his heart weren't interested in any of that shit, and this was another reason she was perfect for him. Layla might well take his body up on the arousal; No'One never would. And there were worse betrayals to his shellan than wanting the unattainable. At least with No'One, and thanks to his self-control, ~ J.R. Ward

Make treating yourself a priority and always remember your life is happening now. Don't put off all your dreams and pleasures to another day. In any balanced personal definition of success there has to be a powerful element of living life in the present. ~ Mireille Guiliano

Always be respectful and open-minded when listening to another man's beliefs. What you reject today could be your mantra tomorrow. Man's evolution is all about transformations. An unexpected experience you have one day can change you forever. ~ Suzy Kassem