“I'm dreaming of a month of Sundays.”
“In month of Sundays,there is forever and a day!”
“I glance into the faces of all these people out for a Sunday stroll, but I'm not seeing eyes and noses and mouths. I'm seeing stories. Every person has a story. All the hopes and dreams. And fears. And secrets.In every face.”
“I'm easy like Sunday morning.”
“My dreams died nine months before I was born ”
“I hate Sunday, and I don't think I'll ever get over it. But I'm going to try.”