Quotes About Sleep

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber! Holy angels guard they bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest. By all their country's wishes blest!

Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.

One of the most adventurous things left is to go to bed, for no one can lay a hand on our dreams.

Sleeping is no mean art. For its sake one must stay awake all day.

Sleep faster, we need the pillows.

That we are not much sicker and much madder than we are is due exclusively to that most blessed and blessing of all natural graces, sleep.

I never sleep in comfort save when I am hearing a sermon or praying to God.

Sleep - kinsman thou to death and trance and madness.

Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe; But 'tis the happy who have called thee so.

Sleep takes off the costume of circumstance, arms us with terrible freedom, so that every will rushes to deed. A skillful man reads his dreams for his self-knowledge; yet not the details, but the quality. What part does he play in them - a cheerful, manly part, or a poor, drivelling part? However monstrous and grotesque their apparitions, they have a substantial truth.

Turn resolutely to work, to recreation, or in any case to physical exercise till you are so tired you can't help going to sleep, and when you wake up you won't want to worry.

A man ninety years old was asked to what he attributed his longevity. "I reckon," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, "it's because most nights I went to bed and slept when I should have sat up and worried."

There is nothing frightening about an eternal dreamless sleep. Surely it is better than eternal torment in Hell and eternal boredom in Heaven.

Nightly awaits that sweet address Principality of Sleep Happy Land of Forgetfullness

Yeah, I was asleep, but it's okay. I was having my favorite dream. I have it all the time. I was dancing. I was beautiful. I was dancing.

You need more sleep." "Skillet, pan." "What?" "You know, the skillet says the pan's the same deal." He thought a moment. "I believe that's the pot calling the kettle black." "Whatever, kitchen stuff can't talk anyway.

By five A.M., her eyes were gritty and her head ached. The single hour's sleep she had managed to tuck in between sex and murder was beginning to wear on her.

The huge cat, Galahad, was draped over the back of Eve's sleep chair like a drunk over a bar at last call. Since he'd spent several hours the night before attacking boxes, fighting with ribbon, and murdering discarded wrapping paper, she left him where he was so he could sleep it off.

Too revved to sleep. Is that so? Some of the light she loved was back in his eyes. Well, what can we do to pass the time, help you relax? Cribbage, perhaps? Her eyes narrowed. Cribbage? Is that some perverted sexual activity? He laughed, and grabbing her, tossed her onto the bed. Why not?

I slept in myself, didn't get up until about nine." "Has anyone looked outside, checked to see if the world is still spinning on its axis?" "At which time," he continued dryly, "I had a workout—I had soufflé, too. Then, before I came down here to enjoy one of my gifts, I worked about an hour in my office.

propped up a little as her eyes adjusted. She hardly ever got to watch Roarke sleep. Most of the time he rose before she did. And sleep for her tended to be wandering in lucid, often disturbing dreams

Idle hands are the devil's workshop." "Why? They're idle when you're sleeping—does he set up shop then? Are we all supposed to stay awake using our hands so the devil doesn't make stuff? What if you broke your hand? Is he doing his workshop thing while you're waiting to have it fixed?

That did eat up considerable time and effort. But I carved out a little time between bloodbaths. I've just put it together for you this morning, while you were getting a little more beauty sleep." "Is that a dig?" "Darling, how is telling you you're beautiful a dig?" Her answer was a snort as she strapped on her weapon.