Quotes About Sleep

When I was a child I truly loved:Unthinking love as calm and deepAs the North Sea. But I have lived, And now I do not sleep.

Falling asleep with hopes and wishes that I rarely get to hold in my hand for long…go me. All I've got are memories and secrets.

My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight.Her hands asleep beside her.Her hair draped on the lawnlike a mantle of cloth.I give her my troth, for our love is wholeI sing her beauty in my soul

I have to convince myself every night that I love you before I go to sleep lest I wake up empty.

One day we wake from sleep to wander through this tale of dreams with wings fluttering lighter than love free.

Dreams are memories. Memories are dreams. But my time with you hasn't become a dream just yet. Because the sensation of your kisses keep me from sleep. I'm in love, God help me, I'm in love.

Disturb my sleep but darling don't dare disturb my dreams!

The coffee is not strong enough to keep me awake.

There is nothing better, than sleeping and dreaming beside you —It's like having a dream within a dream.

How much time out of every 24 hours do you devote to: a. your occupation b. sleep c. play and relaxation d. acquiring useful knowledge e. plain waste

Your subconscious mind works continuously, while you are awake, and while you sleep.

I wanted to become a flaneur, a professional meditator, sit in cafes, lounge, unglued to desks and organization structures, sleep as long as I needed, read voraciously, and not owe any explanation to anybody. I wanted to be left alone in order to build, small steps at a time, an entire system of thought based on my Black Swan idea

His stories are good to hear at night, because we can dream about them asleep; and good in the morning, too, because then we can dream about them awake. (Cowslip)

The mind is in a sad state when Sleep, the all-involving, cannot confine her spectres within the dim region of her sway, but suffers them to break forth, affrighting this actual life with secrets that perchance belong to a deeper one.

It came to pass, not long after the scene above recorded, that the Reverend Mr Dimmesdale, at noonday, and entirely unawares, fell into a deep, deep slumber, sitting in his chair, with a large black-letter volume open before him on the table. It must have been a work of vast ability in the somniferous school of literature.

Truth often finds its way to the mind close muffled in robes of sleep, and then speaks with uncompromising directness of matters in regard to which we practise an unconscious self-deception during our waking moments.

The mind is in a sad state when Sleep, the all-involving, cannot confine her specters within the dim region of her sway, but suffers them to break forth, affrighting this actual life with secrets that perchance belong to a deeper one.

You don't so much sleep as borrow eight hours from death.

I went home and tried to sleep, but couldn't, so I stared up at the moon, watching how it's trailing edge faded into darkness, so close to being full, but not quite there. A pregnant moon, Grandma called it. Full almost to bursting, and ready to give birth to something unthinkable.

Their sleep was dreamless, as it would be for a long, long time.

I expect a full night's sleep from you, followed by a recitation of your poisons in the morning, in order of toxicity. My poison? In spite of his pain and drug-induced haze, Scythe Faraday smiled. Yes, your poisons. Are you my apprentice or not? Citra couldn't help but smile right back at him. Yes, Your Honor, I am.

She closed her eyes again, and tried to reboot. Human brains, she knew, could be like computers, especially in the time that hung between sleep and wakefulness. Sometimes you said strange things, did even stranger things, and once in a while you couldn't figure out exactly how you got where you got.

Maybe scythes hired people to sleep for them.

Regarding sleep, this sinister adventure of each night, one could say that people fall asleep daily with an audacity that would be incomprehensible if we didn't know that it results from their being oblivious of danger.