If I’m just at the White House, I have meetings in my office, I sign letters, I plan different things. Late in the afternoon, I’ll quit working and wait for my husband to get home.
People think writing a children’s book is something you could do in an afternoon but it’s actually really hard.
I like to read away as much of the afternoon as possible, until real life rears its ugly head.
The first thing I think about when I wake up most mornings is the fact that I’m tired. I have been tired for decades. I am tired in the morning and I am tired while becalmed in the slough of the afternoon, and I am tired in the evening, except right when I try to go to sleep.
I have a lot of great racing memories growing up in Europe as a young boy – playing with car parts on my dad’s desk, watching the races on Sunday afternoons to try and spot him on TV, even having the chance to go to Formula 1 races where he was working.
I write in the mornings or afternoons – I’m not a night owl and can write for only four or five hours maximum.
After clearing 9 metres of the descending passage, in about the middle of the afternoon, we came upon a second sealed doorway, which was almost the exact replica of the first.
I get up early in the morning, 4 o’clock, and I sit at my desk and what I do is just dream. After three or four hours, that’s enough. In the afternoon, I run.
As far as writing, I like watching bad movies. Nothing stops me in my tracks more than watching a great film like ‘The Godfather’ or ‘Dog Day Afternoon’ or ‘The Graduate.’ You watch one of those, and you never want to write again. Whereas with bad movies, it makes you think, If that counts, I certainly could write.
It’s no mean calling to bring fun into the afternoons of large numbers of people. That, too, is part of my job, and I’m happy to serve when called on.
I loved it, but social reality impeded. Now I wander in here at 9 in the morning or so, and come back for a while in the afternoon. I am a very lenient boss.
Short naps are good. Given modern workplace demands, this is not possible for many people – but if you have the option, try napping for ten to twenty minutes in the afternoon, preferably lying down in a darkened room.
I’ve had jobs that allow me the flexibility to achieve work-life balance, to be there when one of the kids sinks a jump shot or for the parent-teacher meetings. I can move tasks around. If I don’t get something done at the office at 4:30 in the afternoon, I can go back to it at 10:00 in the evening.
I was studying chemistry, and this is a physically hard job because you are in the laboratory, you work hard, and you come home in the late afternoon or in the evening and you always needed a break.
I had a certificate that said, ‘Doctor of Mixology, Harvard University,’ that I actually got from Harvard University. A friend of mine was a research assistant over there and it was one of those student or university perks and she brought me in on that. So I am a doctorate from Harvard and it only took me one afternoon.
When I was 17, I worked at a bagel shop – I ate so many! I was also in all the school musicals, which we rehearsed for during the afternoons.
I’m one of those guys who would like to weigh about 115 pounds for a couple of hours in the afternoon and then go back to my own size about 5 o’clock.
As young black boys in Alief, Texas, my friends and I often spent afternoons imagining ourselves scoring the game-winning touchdown at the end of the Super Bowl.
I didn’t grow up thinking of movies as film, or art, but as movies, something to do on a Saturday afternoon.
I used to start at about 10 at night and work until early morning. My preferred way to work is to start in the early afternoon and work until about 3, go do errands, have dinner, and then write for a few more hours in the evening.
Saturday afternoon is the hardest thing. I can go out and watch games, but I’m constantly on my phone looking at results: what score is this, what score is that. You have no real involvement, but you’re obsessed with it.
Religion was quite a thing in our house – we were Baptists. Some Sundays I went to church three times. If there was a talk on missionary work in the afternoon, I could be there all bloody day. But religion took its first big knock after Dad died.
I can still remember the afternoon, on my 15th birthday, when I opened up ‘The Virgin and the Gypsy,’ D.H. Lawrence’s novella, in my tiny cell in boarding school, and whole worlds of possibility opened out that I had never guessed existed. The language was on fire and sang of liberation.
I was a latchkey kid. Every afternoon, I would walk home from school, let myself in, make myself a banana buttie, and watch telly until Mum came home.
When I was five, I joined a club, ‘Excelsior’, the club of Kralingen, in the first division. I was always training. On a free afternoon, I did individual work with Aad Putters, my youth trainer. Not with the idea growing to be a star, but for fun.
We’d get right up and go straight to the beach for practice. Afterward, we’d leave on our wringing, dirty clothes and jump in the ocean. Then we’d leave them drying on the beach. That was our laundry break. Then, we’d play all afternoon.
Those old westerns are the movies I grew up with on Saturday afternoons at the theater.
A human being would certainly not grow to be seventy or eighty years old if this longevity had no meaning for the species. The afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be merely a pitiful appendage to life’s morning.
As one gets older, it happens that in the morning one fails to remember the airplane trip to be taken in a few hours or the lecture scheduled for the afternoon.
Man, you don’t know how I felt that afternoon when I heard that voice and it was my own voice.
After college, I was an intern at the New York Theater Workshop. In the mornings, I would build sets and hang lights, and in the afternoon, I would be the reader for auditions.
When I was on the ice, I felt like a free man. With flying, it’s the same thing. When I’m flying by myself on an afternoon, I feel free.
Honestly, I’m living my fantasy. It’s being with my family, preferably on a snowy afternoon with a fire going, cuddled up in blankets, playing a game.
The real 1960s began on the afternoon of November 22, 1963. It came to seem that Kennedy’s murder opened some malign trap door in American culture, and the wild bats flapped out.
My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon – this was before television, and we didn’t even have a radio – I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.
‘You’ve got mail!’ exclaims the cheery automaton at America Online. The flag on the mailbox icon waves invitingly on my computer screen. For a second, I’m 10 years old again, waiting for the postman’s whistle to slice the stillness of an Australian afternoon.
Our son is in school now. You know, he’s six-and-a-half and so a big chunk of the day is taken up by school. So I’m hoping that I’ll be able to certainly take him to school in the morning, maybe pick him up in the afternoon and come back to work.
Don’t move to L.A to become an actress – you’ll just be a waitress. Don’t drive to Nashville to become a country music star – you’ll just end up playing empty honky-tonks at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday.
I am a morning writer; I am writing at eight-thirty in longhand and I keep at it until twelve-thirty, when I go for a swim. Then I come back, have lunch, and read in the afternoon until I take my walk for the next day’s writing.
There are always bad games and bad afternoons.
We have a part-time nanny who does a few afternoons a week. We have a nursery.
My favorite afternoon snack as a child in San Diego was a still-steaming flour tortilla purchased at the taqueria down the street from my school, and I’ve yearned for them ever since I moved away.
Nighttime, in a nanosecond, asleep by 10:30. No chance I’ll get through the day without two naps. Before noon, around 11 A.M. I catch 30 minutes. Living not far from CBS is perfect because afternoons I go home for another.
I like doing very small, intimate things in the morning and then, in the afternoon, to be working on something in a big stadium.
When John, my husband, was alive, he had a strict timetable. We would get up at 7:30 every morning and go out to breakfast, and I’d have a little nap in the afternoon if I had a show to do at night.
I eat a lot of protein – steak in the morning, steak in the afternoon, fish, chicken.
You know what we say in the Hamptons: If you have to come out on a Friday afternoon or go back on a Sunday night, you’re not rich enough to have a house there. So, you have to be able to come and go when you feel like it in the Hamptons.
I had crashes when I was small and Gumby-like that would have killed me now. I would just fly off jumps and go 40 or 50 meters when I was 6 years old – break skis, smash my goggles and get a bloody nose and go crawl inside for a little while and then come back out and ski more in the afternoon.
I have a nap every afternoon like a little boy. Or an old man. Depending on how you look at it.
Seeing that we were book enthusiasts, my mother began hauling my sister and me down to the Stanton Free Library on Tuesday afternoons, where I’d find two or three books to bring home.
