Cozy Morning Quotes

I'm so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm sure you all need your rest…but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help."
"Oh yes," said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction, "we will…we're sorry…"
With an anguished look at Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley.
"It's like being a house-elf," complained Ron in an undertone, still massaging his head as he and Harry followed. "Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding's over, the happier I'll be."
"Yeah," said Harry, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes…It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"
Ron started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents waiting for them in Mrs. Weasley's room, stopped quite abruptly.
The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o'clock. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time, and it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair. ~ J.K. Rowling

His eyes drifted shut. without opening them, he murmured, "I like the sound of your laugh. It's real and genuine. A lot of girls have this fake laugh. Not you."
"I like your laugh, too." I whispered, feeling pulled in, cozy in the cacoon of his bed.
"Yeah?"
I flattened my palm over his chest, enjoying the sensation of the firm flesh, even warm as it was. He sighed, like my cool hand offered him some relief.
"I laugh more since you came around," he said quietly, his lips barely forming the words.
He did? I frowned. He must not have laughed at all before, then, because I didn't think he was particularly jovial.
I held him through the night. And he held me back, tucking my head beneath his chin. His arms surrounded me and kept me close to his overly warm body. Almost like I was some kind of lifeline. I felt the moment his fever broke around one in the morning. I finally relaxed and fell asleep. ~ Sophie Jordan

But the main reason was that waking her would've meant telling her good-bye, and telling someone good-bye when you're planning on walking into hell would've felt kind of…final.
It was the same reason I hadn't gone into the hut to find Mom, and why I'd skirted around Archer's tent. I'd been nearly to the shore when I'd heard him softly call, "Mercer."
Kneeling in the doorway of his tent, his hair a mess, his Hex Hall uniform ridiculously wrinkled, he'd nearly broken my heart. And when I ran to him as soundlessly as I could and practically dove on top of him, I'd told myself that our kiss was just your normal boyfriend/girlfriend saying good morning thing. Even when he pulled me inside, the tent warm and cozy and smelling like him, I hadn't let myself think that might be the last time I'd see him.
And when he'd pulled me closer and murmured, "Mercer, I love-" I had covered his mouth with my hand.
"Don't say that. Not now. Say it sometime when there is absolutely no chance of death on the horizon, okay?"
He mumbled something beneath my palm, and I rolled my eyes as I pulled it away from his mouth. He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. "All I was going to say was that I love this tent you made for me. But I guess I can tell you again later. When you get back."
Curling my hand around the back of his neck, I'd pulled him down to me. "You better."
A blush creeping up my neck from the memory, I swung my gaze away from his tent and back toward th ~ Rachel Hawkins

If you love home - and even if you don't - there is nothing quite as cozy, as comfortable, as delightful, as that first week back. That week, even the things that would irritate you - the alarm waahing from some car at three in the morning; the pigeons who come to clutter and cluck on the windowsill behind your bed when you're trying to sleep in - seem instead reminders of your own permanence, of how life, your life, will always graciously allow you to step back inside of it, no matter how far you have gone away from it or how long you have left it. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

It was time for me to go that Thursday night. We'd just watched Citizen Kane--a throwback to my Cinema 190 class at USC--and it was late. And though a soft, cozy bed in one of the guest rooms sounded much more appealing than driving all the way home, I'd never really wanted to get into the habit of sleeping over at Marlboro Man's house. It was the Pretend-I'm-a-Proper-Country-Club-Girl in me, mixed with a healthy dose of fear that Marlboro Man's mother or grandmother would drop by early in the morning to bring Marlboro Man some warm muffins or some such thing and see my car parked in the driveway. Or even worse, come inside the house, and then I'd have to wrestle with whether or not to volunteer that "I slept in a guest room! I slept in a guest room!", which only would have made me look more guilty. Who needs that? I'd told myself, and vowed never to put myself in that predicament. ~ Ree Drummond

Gradually the earliness of the morning and the cozy warmth of my bedroom got the better of us, and before we knew it we'd sunk into the irresistible softness of my bed, our arms and legs caught in a tangled maze.
"I think I love you," his raspy voice whispered, his lips nearly touching my ear. His arms wrapped even more tightly around my body, swallowing me almost completely. ~ Ree Drummond

I'm sorry about our honeymoon," Marlboro Man said when we woke up the next morning. It was 4:30, still dark outside, and we were wired, our internal clocks in a state of utter confusion. He caressed my side as I stretched and sighed. Our bed was so warm and cozy and dreamy.
"It's okay," I said, smiling. "I'm so glad we came home…I love it here." Our bedroom was tiny, about nine feet by nine feet. It cradled us like a protective cocoon.
"I love you here," he replied.
We stayed in bed the entire morning, purposely denying that a world beyond our cocoon even existed. ~ Ree Drummond

A morning-flowered dalliance
demured and dulcet-sweet
with ebullience and efflorescence
admiring, cozy cottages
and elixirs of eloquence
lie waiting at our feet -

We'll dance through fetching pleasantries
as we walk ephemeral roads
evocative epiphanies
ethereal, though we know
our hearts are linked with gossamer
halcyon our day
a harbinger of pretty things
infused with whispers longing still
and gamboling in sultry ways
to feelings, all ineffable
screaming with insouciance
masking labyrinthine paths

where, in our nonchalance, we walk
through the lilt of love's new morning rays.

Mellifluous murmurings
from a babbling brook
that soothes our heated passion-songs
and panoplies perplexed with thought
of shadows carried off with clouds
in stormy summer rains…

My dear, and that I can call you 'dear'
after ripples turned to crashing waves
after pyrrhic wins, emotions drained
we find our palace sunned and rayed
with quintessential moments lit
with wildflower lanterns arrayed
on verandahs lush with mutual love,
the softest love – our preferred décor

of life's lilly-blossom gate

in white-fenced serendipity…

Twilight sunlit heavens cross

our gardens, graced with perseverance,
bliss, and thee, and thou, so splendid, deli ~ Numi Who

My life of crime began at seven twenty-eight this morning."
~ Charmaine Digby ~ Wendy Delaney