Quotes About Rest

Sometimes sleep gets to be a serious and complete thing. You stop going to sleep in order that you may be able to get up, but get up in order that you may be able to go back to sleep.

But for the present I would lie there and know I didn't have to get up, and feel the holy emptiness and blessed fatigue of a saint after the dark night of the soul. For God and Nothing have a lot in common. You look either one of Them straight in the eye for a second and the immediate effect on the human constitution is the same.

How much time off will I have each day?

Good night, belovedest. Your sleep will be sweet if there is any influences in the wishes of your own.

Anne? said Dacy sitting up in bed and propping his chin on his hands, Anne, where is sleep? People go to sleep every night, and of course I know it's a place where I do things I dream, but I want to know where it is and how to get there and back without knowing anything about it . . . and in my nighty too. Where is it?

Charlotte had never forgotten it - she was always looking for it. An old house facing seaward, ships going up and down. Spruce woods and musty hills, cold salt air from the water, rest, quiet, silence.

A country Sabbath is suggestive of rest and peace and quiet--sleepy blue skies, shadows golden and green, sunny fields, and the pink and snow of apple blossoms. June is at her height of radiant loveliness now. What a pity it is such a short time. I am here in my old room--my little absolute kingdom. Here I read, write and dream. My favourite pictures adorn the walls, my well read books are on their shelves and my clock ticks me cheerful company.

Well, I am going to leave the war to Haig for the rest of the day and make a frosting for my chocolate cake.

She was too happy to sleep just yet.

You're the only man I know whose brain don't work unless it's in the shade.

A sleeping man would miss the best of the evening, and the moonrise as well.

A man that sleeps all night wastes too much of life.

It was so wonderful to be there, safe at home, sheltered from the winds and the cold. Laura thought that this must be a little like heaven, where the weary are at rest.

There was no time to lose, no time to waste in rest or play. The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime.

Father always maintained that a man would do more work in twelve hours, if he had a rest and all the egg-nog he could drink, morning and afternoon.

You need to hit Monday ready to go ... To do that, you need weekends that rejuvenate you, rather than exhaust or disappoint you. Cross-training makes you a better athlete, and likewise, exercise, volunteer work, and spiritual activities make you a better worker.

Getting adequate sleep is a sign that the world doesn't need your attention for seven to nine hours each day. It keeps spinning as usual in its orbit. Who wants to admit that?

Do the gods sleep well at night? I think maybe they do.

lay on my back in the dark. He was doing the same. "Edward," I asked. "Hmm," he said. "Are you a side sleeper, or a back sleeper?" "Back." "I'm a side sleeper, so no spooning, I guess." "What?" I laughed and turned over on my side. "Good night, Edward." "Good night, Anita." We slept.

I dropped the towel to the floor and crawled into the warm nest of the covers and Nathaniel's body. 'You sure you don't need to sleep more than you need sex?' 'Sex energizes me; you should know that by now.' Nicky loomed over both of us, propped up on one shoulder. 'I vote you as an honorary lion.' 'High praise,' Nathaniel said.

So much motion, continues he, (for he was very corpulent)—is so much unquietness; and so much of rest, by the same analogy, is so much of heaven. Now, I (being very thin) think differently; and that so much of motion, is so much of life, and so much of joy—and that to stand still, or get on but slowly, is death and the devil—

What were his views in this, and in every other action of his life,—or rather what were the opinions which floated in the brains of other people concerning it, was a thought which too much floated in his own, and too often broke in upon his rest, when he should have been sound asleep.

My head is killing me, my throat is killing me, my stomach bubbles with toxic waste. I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid if this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind.

I won't take a real nap. I have this halfway place, a rest stop on the road to sleep, where I can stay for hours. I don't even need to close my eyes, just stay safe under the covers and breathe.