Quotes About Sleep

Go to bed," he ordered. "Go to bed... and stay there.

There are definite advantages to single beds." "Makes cuddling mandatory.

The world rolls and somewhere out there are things I don't know. Let us sleep on God and mystery, a quiet, fragile ship floating on the sea, behold sleep.

It was darker, all she could see of him was a shadow. He was fading more and more, slipping through her hands, dead at the bottom of sleep.

The chicken lives as if in a dream. She has no sense of reality. All the chicken's fright comes because they're always interrupting her reverie. The chicken is a sound sleep. . . . The chicken has plenty of inner life. To be honest, the only thing the chicken really has is inner life. Our vision of her inner life is what we call "chicken.

I shall do everything possible to see that she doesn't die. But I feel such an urge to put her to sleep then go off to sleep myself.

What sustains me is to know that I shall always fabricate a god in the image I require in order to sleep peacefully, and that others will quietly pretend that we are all justified, and that there is nothing to be done. All this because we are astute by nature and the bastions of something. And above all, because we try not to understand.

La cama blanquecina nadando en la oscuridad. El cansancio arrastrándose por su cuerpo

One night, I'd only just lain down," she told him, "when one of the legs of the bed collapsed throwing me to the ground. After an irate movement, because I wasn't at least sleepy enough to go without comfort, I suddenly thought: why a whole bed and not a broken one? I lay down and was soon asleep...

Dar a mão a alguém sempre foi o que esperei da alegria. Muitas vezes antes de adormecer - nessa pequena luta por não perder a consciência ir para a grandeza do sono, finjo que alguém está me dando a mão e então vou, vou para a enorme ausência de forma que é o sono. E quando mesmo assim não tenho coragem, então eu sonho.

The grating cry of the muezzin from the mosques at sunrise wakes people from their sleep and puts them on edge for the rest of the day.

Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking.

Here is a book so dull that a whirling dervish could read himself to sleep with it. If you were to recite even a single page in the open air, birds would fall out of the sky and dogs drop dead.

Two o'clock already! High time for a woman of letters who has turned out badly to go to sleep.

He sipped his orangeade thoughtfully through a straw, and as my eyes rested on his fine mouth, I reflected that there was something about it that aroused ideas of sweetness, of sleep, something secret and gentle and sad – and still youthful. And I remembered the adage: "A kissed mouth never grows old.

Siri's dream world had always been bizarre. In his childhood, the images that lurked there constantly interrupted his sleep. The same woman who raised him would come to his bed and remind him that these were his dreams inside his head, and nobody had more right to be in there than he. He learned how to walk tall through his nightmares and not be afraid of what happened there.

As a boy, he had been moved by those words of the dying Socrates, suggesting that if death were just one long, unbroken, dreamless sleep, then a greater boon could hardly be bestowed upon mankind.

Other men are unaware of what they do when they are awake just as they are forgetful of what they do when they are asleep.

kneeling, swaying, or sitting in a cross-legged position are believed to have evolved to prevent falling asleep. You should be comfortable and relaxed.

Better to sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.

But me they'll lash in hammock, drop me deep.Fathoms down, fathoms down, how I'll dream fast asleep.I feel it stealing now. Sentry, are you there?Just ease these darbies [manacles] at the wrist,And roll me over fair!I am sleepy, and the oozy weeds about me twist.

Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth.

In the morning he would forget all of it—but the night was not yet over. And somewhere in the darkest, iciest low part of it, when even owls and loons were prompted to noiselessness out of either fear or respect, he slipped deeper into sleep, as deep into it as a man could go without losing all chance of coming back. Still, even in the pit of it, he could hear and identify the sound. The rocker, creaking.

Because he had enjoyed every advantage since birth, one of the few privileges denied to Benjamin Rash was that of a heroic rise: his was not a story of resilience and preseverance of the tale of an unbreakable will forging a golden destiny for itself out of little more than dross. In and out of sleep. Like a needle coming out from under a black cloth and then vanishing again. Unthreaded.