Quotes About Sleep

Wake me not if this is vision, Let me sleep not if 'tis true.

BASILIO: Pues antes que lo veas, volverás a dormir adonde creas que cuanto te ha pasado, como fue bien del mundo, fue soñado.

And yet, and yet, in these our ghostly lives, Half night, half day, half sleeping, half awake, How if our waking life, like that of sleep, Be all a dream in that eternal life To which we wake not till we sleep in death

Desperté seis horas después, con una formidable erección. El mejor afrodisíaco es descansar el cerebro.

Usted siempre habitará mis sueños,y se ocultará en el remaje de mis pestañas para que yo lo descubra acechando con pena el vaivén de mi eterno dormir.

The jangle of the telephone rousted Matt out of a deep sleep. He never dreamed. Dreams were too messy.

I enjoy very little leisure in the evenings. But don't misunderstand me, I find a good book at my bedside of incalculable value. When I eventually retire I've no sooner read a few pages than I'm overwhelmed with sleep.

As I fell asleep, I knew I would dream, and I dreamed first that I knew why I dreamed, why humans dream. We dream, quite simply, so we know we're not dead.

Death is a veil which those who live call life, Sleep and it is lifted.

O weep for Adonis - He is dead." "Peace. He is not dead he doth not sleep - he hath wakened from the dream of life

How wonderful is Death, Death, and his brother Sleep! One, pale as yonder waning moon With lips of lurid blue; The other, rosy as the morn When throned on ocean's wave It blushes o'er the world; Yet both so passing wonderful!

Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber, And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber Of those who wake and live.

Death is the veil which those who live call life; They sleep, and it is lifted.

And that's it. I'm going back to bed.

I don't know what that means. To truly live." "To find work that you love, and work harder than other men. To learn the languages of the earth, and love the sounds of the words and the things they describe. To love food and music and drink. Fully love them. To love weather, and storms, and the smell of rain. To love heat. To love cold. To love sleep and dreams. To love the newness of each day.

The people on the hill, they say I'm lazy, but when they sleep, I sing and dance.

I slept badly that night, my vivid dreams populated by ghosts. As much as it revived ailing spirits in day light, the fizzy energy of NY seemed to feed on human frailty at night.

Right-brain dissociation can be seen as classical dissociation and as the defense most common to freeze types. It is the right-brain process of numbing out against intense feeling or incessant inner critic attack. Dissociation is once again a process of distraction. Survivors commonly experience it as getting lost in fantasy, fogginess, TV, tiredness or sleep.

Children woke up at six-thirty in the morning and shifted directly into fourth gear. Fourteen hours later they rushed straight into sleep at more than a hundred miles an hour without decelerating.

Love arises when you have a surplus; it disappears when you're reduced to the basic instincts: hunger, sleep, the need for security.

Meine Wissenschaft gibt mir Wachträume, die andere nicht einmal im Schlafen haben." Peter Handke: Langsame Heimkehr. Erzählung. Frankfurt am Main 1994, S. 63.

The young men thought it was too hot to sleep inside their kaia, Bwana," he replied. "Also," he said, shuffling the dirt with a big toe, "they were a little bit drunk." He shrugged with typical African fatalism. Most Africans believe it can never happen to them, something like the attitude of front-line troops. The millet and sorghum

He had a bullet in the arm—the nineth or tenth wound of his life—which had damaged the main nerve; but he seemed to rise above it. After a lengthy and painful operation, with only local anesthetics, he found it difficult to sleep, even with morphia;

On the wooded hillsides below, an owl hooted, heralding the first liquid trills of a nightingale, while in the air above, tiny bats dashed to and fro like fleeting splashes of shadow. Then, somewhere on a distant mountain farm, a dog barked a warning to imagined marauders skulking by his master's gate. Mallorca was preparing to sleep.