Quotes About Sleep

Nightmares aren't frightening once you wake up. Memories are.

Nightmares are not terrifying once you are wake up. Memories are.

All she wanted to do was sleep. She'd have taken a ride with Satan in his big red handbasket if it had helped her get off her feet for a few minutes.

When you sleep, you give up the choice to control memory.

Once upon a time, Sleeping Beauty decided to take a nap from which she would never wake up.

What else could I be? If I were a mono-thinker, I probably wouldn't be an insomniac. How is a poly-thinker supposed to fall asleep, and more importantly, stay asleep, when thoughts just won't stop darting! darting! darting! through my head?

Boy needs to get a good night's sleep. Otherwise, he'll be lucky to get accepted at SUNY-So Far Upstate You Might As Well Be In Canada, eh ?

The way you're singing in your sleep The way you look before you leap The strange illusions that you keep You don't know But I'm noticing Fuck

When is a night over? Is it the start of sunrise or the end of it? Is it when you finally go to sleep or simply when you realize that you have to? When the club closes or when everyone leaves?

Sleeping is time not spent living.

Ester lay silent under the cover, willing herself toward the sweet sleep she now craved more than almost all else. The death of each day's life. End it, she thought. End this day's life if the world holds mercy.

I possess everyone who sleeps in the motor court, roam their memories, and embed recurrent nightmares that will destroy their sleep for weeks after I've departed them." "I'd prefer a free continental breakfast.

Now, sprawled comfortably in his motel bed, Anson Sharp enjoyed the sleep of the amoral, which is far deeper and more restful than the sleep of the just, the righteous, and the innocent.

I am amazed that there are still nights when I sleep well.

We ate food that wasn't healthy. We let dirty dishes stack up in the sink. We slept too much. We talked about everything, everything but the slaughter at the mall. Our past, our future. We planned. We dreamed.

The mild wind made the trees sway gently, in a lullaby rhythm, and the resultant susurration was like the soft sighs and dreamy murmurs of a thousand peacefully slumbering children.

Then perhaps you shouldn't sleep. The imagination has terrifying power.

Sleep is a kind of peace, and I have not yet earned peace.

His dreams were killing him.

During the one minute of wakefulness after his head meets the pillow, he wonders not who he once was, not why that life is behind him and beyond recapture, not what organization finances him and crafts his missions. He wonders only how he was made into what he has become. Strange science must be involved, which intrigues him. Sleep.

would be good to have reached an age when she'd have the option of boozing herself into a sound sleep.

Instead, he functioned well on four or five hours, with an occasional six. Sleep was rest to him, yes, but it also felt like a taste of death, waking to discover that, for hours, the world had gone on just fine without him, as one day it would go on forever.

Henry Fuseli, The Nightmare, which he painted in 1781.

Anna, I hope I didn't wake