Waking up each morning to a hysterical alarm clock on the bedside table.
Honestly, I don't always want to get up in the mornings, but I do anyway.
I roll out of my couch every morning with the more agreeable expectations.
The hardest part of the day is all the stuff after I open my eyes in the morning.
I remember once a vocational director said to Fang, "You must develop some mechanical skills - like getting out of bed."
When I finally decide that I'm ready to get out of bed, it could be the sunlight, it could be the fact that I'm awake, and, OK, first of all, I wake up in the morning because I have to go to the bathroom.
When push-off comes to shove-off, a man must have a reason to get out of bed in the mornings, something more than the threat of bedsores, at any rate.
My parents would have to put the fire hose on me to get me out of bed, to go to school in the morning. They would use a cattle prod and just shock me, or throw boiling water on me, or fire a gun next to my head, to get me out of bed.
She says you're not awake until you're actually out of bed and standing up.
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.
Getting after this terrible, avoidable waste of human potentiality is what gets me out of bed every morning.
