Quotes About Sleep

A professor is someone who talks in someone else's sleep.

Truth, like love and sleep, resents approaches that are too intense.

To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep.

Because to him, who ponders well, My rhymes more than their rhyming tell Of the dim wisdoms old and deep That God gives unto man in sleep

Beds are dangerous. More people die in bed than anywhere else.

A professor is one who talks in someone else's sleep.

There head falls forward, fatigued at evening, And dreams of home...

All night while the rain fell the dark valley heard in silence the silent valley did not remember you were asleep beside me while the rain fell all around us I listened to you breathing I wanted to remember the sound of your breath but we lay there forgetting asleep and awake forgetting a breath at a time while the rain went on falling around us. — W.S. Merwin, from "The Sound of Forgetting," Garden Time (Copper Canyon Press, 2016)

I like sleeping at the minute, I don't really get the chance to do that.

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.

0 little town of Bethlehem How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by.

Sleeping people are so remote.... Right here, but out of communication. That's what strikes humans as uncanny about sleep. Its utter privacy. The sleeper turns his back on everyone.

I like 'Donnie Darko' it's a cool take on dreams and sleep.

There should be a children's song: 'If you're happy and you know it, keep it to yourself and let your dad sleep'.

Meditating takes on a different quality when someone taps you on the shoulder and says, "Dad, why are you sleeping like that?"

I'd like to die like my old dad, peacefully in his sleep, not screaming like his passengers.

Never we sleep, a thug doesn't rest, Cause a wise man said: it was a cousin of death.

Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.

What if this were Hell, this absence of sleep, this poet's desert, this pain of living, this dying of not dying, this anguish of shadows, this passion over death and light.

Death is a sleep that ends our dreaming. Oh, that we may be allowed to wake before death wakes us.

Death rock me asleep.

They say sleep is the cousin of death, guess we related... Cause I'm the most slept on, and the most hated.

Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.

Writing is a deeper sleep than death. Just as one wouldn't pull a corpse from its grave, I can't be dragged from my desk at night.