Quotes About Waking

By the light coming from the patio, it looked a shade after sunrise. I had to stop waking up at this hour. It was just insane.

En fin, gylden metallrand stiger i øst hvor solen står opp. Byen begynner å våkne, det lyder allerede en og annen fjern rumling av kjerrer som søker inn i gatene fra landet, store, tunge bondekjerrer, fulle av torvvarer, av høy og slakt og favnved.

I can tell the time, though, by speak-ing, and as I nev-er sleep I can wak-en you at an-y hour you wish to get up in the morn-ing.' 'That's nice,' said the little girl; 'only I never wish to get up in the morning.

out of any world; each world is rimless. —Amy Leach, Things That Are She had always enjoyed waking people who were asleep; and indeed it is as great an alteration to the state of a fellow-creature that we can make short of killing them or giving birth to them. —Rebecca West, This Real Night

in both birds and humans, the brain regions used more extensively in waking hours sleep more deeply during subsequent sleep—another similarity born of convergent evolution.

Consciousness is the state of awareness, or sentience. It begins in the morning when we wake up, and it continues all day until we go to sleep again at night, or otherwise become unconscious.

The middle place. Not death. Not life. A limbo state of existence filled with the hours of turning the wheels. Eating to not feel hungry. Sleeping to not feel tired. Waking to not feel asleep. The middle place that exists between breaths, in that pause, the slight breathlessness before an exhale and an inhale. Between the crest and the valley. Where the path always meanders cliffside.

Does our reading life balance or subvert our waking life?

My body is weird. I wake up when the sun comes up, and it's hard for me to go to sleep. My thoughts just take over.

Typically, I'll wake up at 4:30 in the morning. It's just the continual jet lag residue, just weird sleeping hours.

When we look at what has the strongest statistical relationship to overall evaluation of your life, the first one is your career well-being, or the mission, purpose and meaning of what you're doing when you wake up each day.

94. To traditional corporations, networked conversations may appear confused, may sound confusing. But we are organizing faster than they are. We have better tools, more new ideas, no rules to slow us down. 95. We are waking up and linking to each other. We are watching. But we are not waiting.

He supposed that the dream was fragile. If thought about to practically, if analyzed to closely, it might well cease to recur. The dream was probably best left in the back of the mind, at the edges of the mind; within that mental area which comes into its own between waking and sleeping- and, less happily, between sleeping and waking.

There are days in retirement that are the waking equivalent of a dreamless sleep, if you know what I mean.

Life is a dream—that knows no shade. Life is a dream—of pain and woe. A dream from which—we pray to wake. A dream from which—we wake and go. Who would sleep—when the new dawn waits? Who would sleep—when the sweet winds blow? A dream must end—when the new day comes. This dream from which—we wake and go.

Sleeping and waking—for him the states grew ever less distinct. Sleep gained in truth as waking lost the arrogance of certainty. Dreams, three-D and portentous, sported a logic no less satisfactory than that of what, by mere consensus, was called the real. Categories dissolved; things floated free of their names, and a kind of geriatric Buddhism became ever more unquestioned and serene.

In the end dreams became his life, and his whole life thereafter took a strange turn: one might say he slept while waking and watched while asleep.

The human soul, provided it is pure and strong enough, can contact the unseen in waking life as well as in dreams: all that is required is withdrawal of the soul from the tumult of sensory life.

But our waking life, and our growing years, were for the most part spent in the kitchen, and until we married, or ran away, it was the common room we shared.

The old man sang for a while, and Mora felt in her head the beginning of a long siege. A wilderness had crept up around a walled town, and the darkness of old woods and far-off places began to grow then, even within sight of where men walked together. By this she meant in her heart that all the useless things one remembers well just before waking and forgets just after were in fact very important and perhaps all that stood now between herself and oblivion.

Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

On rocky islands gulls woke.

The shock of waking suddenly had made her muscles tense and she'd never been any good at relaxing.

I only remember the end of my dreams, like waking up at a steering wheel, or falling.