The Indian said a particularly long prayer this Sunday evening, as if to atone for working in the morning.
(Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "The Allegash and East Branch" (1864) in The Maine Woods (1864), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 3, p. 229, Houghton Mifflin (1906).)
Sometimes there's nothing but Sundays for weeks on end. Why can't they move Sunday to the middle of the week so you could put it in the OUT tray on your desk?
(Russell Hoban (b. 1925), U.S. author. "The Tightly Furled Man," ch. 13, The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz (1973).
"Forgive us our Sundays," he adds, "as we forgive those who Sunday against us.")
Sunday morning may be cheery enough, with its extra cup of coffee and litter of Sunday newspapers, but there is always hanging over it the ominous threat of 3 P.M., when the sun gets around to the back windows and life stops dead in its tracks.
(Robert Benchley (1889-1945), U.S. writer, humorist. The Treasurer's Report and Other Aspects of Community Singing, "The Sunday Menace," Grosset & Dunlap (1930).)