Quotes About Sleeping

Shadows would be moving inside shadows; daggers would be unsheathed; the air would get gray and chill with stealth and intrigue; blood would spurt. And the sleeping would do well to stir.

We are all sleeping avatars of God, with amnesia.

Thoughts almost fatherly came to him as he asked himself what vicissitudes this witchlike girl faced through the years ahead. In them was evidence that Eguchi too was old. There could be no doubt that the girl was here for money. Nor was there any doubt that, for the old men who paid out the money, sleeping beside such a girl was a happiness not of this world. Because the girl would not awaken, the aged guests need not feel the shame of their years.

The summer sun continued to rise in the sky and propel shocks of heat down on the city and the heavy moisture moistened bodies and clothing, and people fanned and wiped at sweating faces trying to survive another bitch of a day as Harry and Marion peacefully passed the day sleeping in each others arms oblivious to the reality surrounding them.

Morgana:"Qualcuno c'è... Quel marinaio addormentato... che forse sta sognando..." Merlino:"Si... ma sta sognando a occhi aperti, e chi sogna ad occhi aperti è pericoloso perchè non sa quando finisce il sogno

Sometimes I like her calm, unwild, gentle as a sleeping child, and wonder as she lies, a fur ring, curled upon my lap, unstirring -- is it me or Tibbles purring?

Burn my last letter, I am sooo lucky! I am not on the menu, I am a guest (somebody you have to stay). That zippy bag was not a trap, it was for sleeping, hmmm cosy! They put me in it for first aid!

All over the world people are now sleeping in their beds, or perhaps they are engaged in some idiotic pastime; and one might easily believe that each in his own way is doing his best to deserve destruction. But that destruction will bring no freedom.

As she turned from him and looked at Trivona, she was assailed by a vague feeling of discomfort, for there was something very pathetic in the sleeping Trivvie. By day she was a rebel, full of the lust of life, battling for power, and yet more power, for freedom and yet more freedom; but, asleep, she was innocent, helpless, vulnerable. Barbara felt it was wrong to see Trivvie thus; it was like a treachery. Trivvie would hate to be seen without her armor on.

His wife looked vulnerable and lovely, like a nymph sleeping in a wood. The fantastical profusion of her hair was like something from a mythological painting, curling golden locks spreading everywhere in lavish disarray.

I can't believe you lied about chocolate, Mallory said. Lying about chocolate is... sanctimonious. Do you remember all those bad girl lessons you gave me? Amy rubbed the spot between her eyes where a headache was starting. You mean the lessons that landed you the sexy hunk you're currently sleeping with? Well, yes. But my point is that maybe you need good girl lessons. And good girl lesson number one is never tease when it comes to chocolate. -Amy and Mallory

Dead before the sun rises, I said. Stars, Bob, why don't you just go over the melodramatic edge and tell me that I'm going to be sleeping with the fishes?

Dreaming is the closest the average human gets to the paranormal plane; it's the time when the mind lets down its guard and the walls get thin enough for there to be glimpses to the other side. That's why, after sleeping, so many people report a visit from someone who's passed.

On the fifth day the jury sent a note to the bailiff, requesting NoDoz for themselves and sleeping pills for Mr. Kanarek.

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm;

Mania starts off fun, not sleeping for days, keeping company with your brain, which has become a wonderful computer, showing 24 TV channels all about you. That goes horribly wrong after awhile.

Death had to take Roosevelt sleeping, for if he had been awake, there would have been a fight.

Eros is] far from being delicate and beautiful, as most people think; on the contrary it is crude and harsh, it walks barefooted, it is homeless, it always sleeps on the floor, on a hard surface, it sleeps outside at night, beside doors and pathways. . . it is always in a state of need.

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, jar of octopus, cuckoo's cry, 5-7-5, but now I want a russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping, another 75 of what you think staring at your window.

When the light came, it would fall just so, across his pillow. She'd see his sleeping face in the light: the jackstraw hair, the fading bruise on his temple, the deep-set eyes, closed in innocence. He looked so young, asleep. Almost as young as he really was. Only twenty-two; too young to have such lines in his face.

I hardly ever dream, which is probably a reflection of the fact that I live my life fully and consciously. I solve my problems while awake and, as a result, spend my sleeping hours resting, not receiving inane messages.

And that's what's important: how you react to someone while they're sleeping and not exerting any influence over you.

Summer makes me suicidal. It sucks all the magick out of life, and even sleeping becomes an exercise in fruitless brutality. I cannot comprehend what it is in the souls who await this misery. Nothing worthwhile can survive the heat. The birds and the bees are harbingers of hell, ushering in a season of disease. There is nothing in these months that speaks to me. It conspires to keep me from ever reaching home.

Sam Keen points out that Zen masters spend years to reach an enlightenment that every natural child already knows—the total incarnation of sleeping when you're tired and eating when you're hungry. What irony that this state of Zen-like bliss is programmatically and systematically destroyed.