Quotes About Sleep

Your dog has not lost any time in catching up on his beauty sleep." "Just do not utter any word that begins with w," she said, "especially with the letters a-l-k attached. You would soon discover how deeply asleep he is.

Elizabeth slept for the rest of the night, somewhat comforted by her decision to do something.

Go back to sleep. There will be no more dreams.

Damn him! Damn Robert Denning, Marquess of Hetherington. How could she be expected to sleep peacefully knowing that he was under the same roof? Was he sleeping dreamlessly? Or was he restless too, troubled perhaps by his conscience? He did not appear to have one, but perhaps it troubled him in his sleep. The thought was somehow comforting.

Take my advice - it is that of your friend, he said, as he swung himself into the saddle. He gathered up the reins and struck spurs into his horse, then turned to call back to me: Sleep upon my words, Ralph, and the next time I come I look to see a farthingale behind thee! Thou art as like to see one upon me, I answered.

Love, love, love, says Percy. And hurry as fast as you can along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust. Then, go to sleep. Give up your body heat, your beating heart. Then, trust.

Love, love, love, says Percy. And run as fast as you can along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust. Then, go to sleep. Give up your body heat, your beating heart. Then, trust.

Sleep comes its little while. Then I wake in the valley of midnight or three a.m. to the first fragrances of spring which is coming, all by itself, no matter what. My heart says, what you thought you have you do not have. My body says, will this pounding ever stop? My heart says: there, there, be a good student. My body says: let me up and out, I want to fondle those soft white flowers, open in the night.

On the windless days, when the maples have put forth their deep canopies, and the sky is wearing its new blue immensities, and the wind has dusted itself not an hour ago in some spicy field and hardly touches us as it passes by, what is it we do? We lie down and rest upon the generous earth. Very likely we fall asleep.

Sleep comes its little while. Then I wake in the valley of midnight or three a.m. to the first fragrances of spring which is coming, all by itself, no matter what.

I give them- one, two, three, four- the kiss of courtesy, of sweet thanks, of anger, of good luck in the deep earth. May they sleep well. May they soften. But I will not give them the kiss of complicity. I will not give them the responsability for my life.

There are two sofas, and upon one, says Poe, the proprietor lies asleep. But it is sleep as Poe most sought and valued it-not for the sake of rest, but for escape. Sleep, too, is a kind of swooning out of this world.

the black fox that lies down to sleep beneath you, the moon staring with her bone-white eye

But it is sleep as Poe most sought and valued it—not for the sake of rest, but for escape. Sleep, too, is a kind of swooning out of this world.

The human organism is built for tension and relaxation, work and sleep. The principle of life is rhythm.

For every twenty-four hours awake, Belenky told me, people lose 25 percent of their capacity for useful mental work.

Sunlight triggers a cutoff of melatonin, bringing on wakefulness. (Indoor light—particularly the light from tablets and smartphones—can also suppress melatonin, but nowhere near as dramatically as sunlight.) This is why night shift workers who drive home in the morning through sunlight and then struggle to fall asleep may find relief by buying amber-lensed Bono-style glasses that block the sun's blue light wavelengths. NSMRL

We rest; A dream has power to poison sleep. We rise; One wandering thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but mutability!

My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.

Happy are dreamers, he continued, so that they be not awakened! Would I could dream!

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.      We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,      Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,      The path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;      Nought may endure but mutability!

We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but mutability!

Silence then, and the scent of apple trees, and the nightmare sense of grief that comes when a man wakes again to feel a loss he has forgotten in sleep.

My life, as it passes thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep!