Quotations About / On: SUNDAY
It was a Sunday afternoon, wet and cheerless; and a duller spectacle this earth of ours has not to show than a rainy Sunday in London.
(Thomas De Quincey (1785-1859), British author. "The Pleasures of Opium," Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (1822).
Recalling the day in 1804 when he first took opium.)
Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.
(Joseph Roux (1834-1886), French priest, writer. Meditations of a Parish Priest, pt. 1, no. 76 (1886).)
The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.
(Georg Büchner (1813-1837), German dramatist, revolutionary. Trans. by Gerhard P. Knapp (1994). The Hessian Messenger (1834).)
Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week.
(Joseph Addison (1672-1719), British essayist. Spectator (London, July 9, 1711), no. 112.)
Sunday is not the Christian Sabbath; it is simply the day for believers to celebrate the Risen and Ever-living Messiah.
(My humble answer to Dr. Michael Brown's topical question, ' Is Sunday the Christian sabbath? ')
People react to fear, not lovethey don't teach that in Sunday School, but it's true.
(Richard M. Nixon (1913-1994), U.S. Republican politician, president. Quoted in William Safire, Before The Fall, prologue (1975).)
I thought to myself that it was still another Sunday gone by, that Mother was now buried, that I was going to return to work and that, after all, nothing had changed.
(Albert Camus (1913-1960), French-Algerian novelist, dramatist, philosopher. The Stranger, p. 39, Gallimard (1942).)
'Tis a strange thing, Sam, that among us people can't agree the whole week, because they go different ways upon Sundays.
(George Farquhar (1678-1707), Irish dramatist. letter, Oct. 15, 1700. Love and Business (1701).)
The boredom of Sunday afternoon, which drove de Quincey to drink laudanum, also gave birth to surrealism: hours propitious for making bombs.
(Cyril Connolly (1903-1974), British critic. The Unquiet Grave, pt. 3 (1944, rev. 1951).)
SundayA day given over by Americans to wishing that they themselves were dead and in Heaven, and that their neighbors were dead and in Hell.
(H.L. (Henry Lewis) Mencken (18801956), U.S. journalist, critic. A Mencken Chrestomathy, ch. 30, p. 624, Knopf (1949).)