Quotes About Sleep

I have been interested in dreams, really since I was a kid. I have always been fascinated by the idea that your mind, when you are asleep, can create a world in a dream and you are perceiving it as though it really existed.

It's not that we simply get old, and memory starts to go, and sleep starts to deteriorate. But those two things actually are significantly interrelated.

Most addicts kill themselves by just trying to get some sleep.

I went to sleep a poet and I woke up a fraud. To calm your nerves I'm feeling for my clothes in the dark.

Since love came over and knocked me down, Then kicked me in the side and fled, I have suffered from a prolonged perplexity. God is the object of my wonder and the closest to me. Especially near sleep. My sheets are like the wings of a guardian angel. There is no other fabric so near to my feelings.

I want to sleep for half a second, a second, a minute, a century, but I want everyone to know that I'm still alive...

Quiero dormir un rato, un rato, un minuto, un siglo; pero que todos sepan que no he muerto; que haya un establo de oro en mis labios; que soy un pequeño amigo del viento Oeste; que soy la sombra inmensa de mis lágrimas

Los cien enamorados duermen para siempre bajo la tierra seca. Andalucía tiene largos caminos rojos. Córdoba, olivos verdes donde poner cien cruces que los recuerden. Los cien enamorados duermen para siempre. - De Profundis Those hundred lovers are asleep forever beneath the dry earth. Andalusia has long, red-colored roads. Córdoba, green olive trees for placing a hundred crosses to remember them. Those hundred lovers are asleep forever. - De Profundis

Duerme, vuela, reposa: ¡También se muere el mar!

Voglio dormire un momento, un momento, un minuto, un secolo; ma tutti sappiano che non sono morto; che c'è una stella d'oro sulle mie labbra; che sono il piccolo amico del vento occidentale; che sono l'ombra immensa delle mie lacrime.

Los cien enamorados duermen para siempre bajo la tiera seca. Andalucía tiene largos caminos rojos. Córdoba, olivos verdes donde poner cien cruces, que los recuerden. Los cien enamorados duermen para siempre.

awoke, and then dozed again. When her new gift watch

I've dreamed a lot. I'm tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything.

Ay de los que mueren dormidos en el momento en que no se sueña porque se irán a la nada con nada!

The damp air eased between sheets tossed and loosened with dreams, kissing uncovered throats, slipping in with unguarded breaths to lie snugly in the lungs and wait for day.

When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence. Why have men spent the centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body? Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep.

I'm a light sleeper. I've never been one of those people who can put their head down and suddenly everything disappears. Nighttime is the time I get most scared, anxious or worried. In those darker moments before waking or sleeping is when I feel most, I don't know, I can turn on myself, and my imagination can take me dark places.

Regarde les lions: ils chassent quand ils ont faim, bon, mais le reste du temps ils dorment, ils bâillent, ils regardent les couchers de soleil et les cameramen du National Geographic, et ils n'ont pas l'air de s'ennuyer.

The best advice is found on the pillow', he

She lay there with her eyes closed, as if sleep were a shy creature that might venture out if she played dead. But every time it seemed to be drawing closer, some loud thought would crash and blunder through the undergrowth, putting it to flight.

Even when she slept, her anxieties did not.

But I'm afraid to sleep!" whispered Trista. "What if I fall to pieces before I wake up? What if tomorrow morning I'm just a pile of leaves and sticks tucked under a blanket? What if this is the last time I've got left, and I waste it all being asleep, then wake up dead?

Neverfell was tired, so very tired. Waiting in her room to learn of her fate, her mind kept dropping away into sleep for numb instants no longer than a blink. Next moment her thoughts would jar her awake again, thrashing and crashing and clattering like a monstrous waterwheel, turning and turning without end or purpose. She jerked and stared and barely knew where she was, dream pieces floating like iceberg shards across her half-waking mind.

Sleep swallowed her like a pond gulping a pebble.