Sleep Quotes - Page 13

There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

The flicker, the flutter, even thoughts can stutter.

When you wake up with a song stuck in your head, it means an angel sang you to sleep.

Might there come a timeWhen we stand over a graveAnd mourn ourselves?Mourn the past, a previous life?Shall we weep for the passing of time?Shall we grieve for unfulfilled dreams?In my naivety; in my beliefIn immortal youth, I sleep walk through life.Someone... wake me up.Please.Wake me up.

There are really two essential things in campaigning. First, you must be in good humor. If you're going to be a raffle, you are to stay home. Second, you are to make sense in your speeches. These aren't the two things you must do. Unless you're saying, if you can be in good humor when you're exhausted. – Henry Cabot Lodge

Let the night take you. Let the stars evaporate into your dreams. Let sleep be the only comfort for you to believe.

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.

The deepest sleep is meant only for children and perfect fools.

To break free from this vexatious and awful never-ending cycle, this flood of outrageous thoughts, and to long for nothing more than simply to sleep--how clean, how pure, the mere thought of it is exhilarating.

If the sleep of reason produces monsters, what does the sleep of unreason produce?

Truth, like love and sleep, resents approaches that are too intense.

If you sleep on the train, you will miss your station; if you sleep at the station, you will miss your train! You can control your fate only when you are awake!

Eat healthily, sleep well, breathe deeply, move harmoniously.

I didn't dream about you last night. I woke up in fear.

Our dreams can carry valuable information when we consciously choose to start listening to them.

The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.

Silence is exhilarating at first - as noise is - but there is a sweetness to silence outlasting exhilaration, akin to the sweetness of listening and the velvet of sleep

The music of cri-cri and cigales droned on in a hypnotic rhythm, punctuated by the occasional croon of the nightingale. I thought of lullabies and how as a child they would placate my disappointment that another day had ended. I was used to sleeping in strange places, and would always focus on sound to relax. In the pawnshop, it was the ticking of grandfather clocks or the tuning of antique instruments. In the thieves’ den, it was striking of a match, the bubbling of a water pipe and the gentle murmur floating in off the streets. On the Wastrel, it was the wind or the creaking wood. It was important to me to find lullabies where I could. If death came with a lullaby, perhaps fewer men would fear it.

My life, as it passes thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep!

Whatever makes you crazy is what you were created to crack. Whatever makes you sleepless is what you were born to succeed in. Don’t give up!

When I am awake, I sleep, but when I dream I come to life.

Wisdom comes through suffering.Trouble, with its memories of pain,Drips in our hearts as we try to sleep,So men against their willLearn to practice moderation.Favours come to us from gods.

I think insomnia is a sign that a person is interesting.

My last thought before falling asleep last night was a realisation that I was falling in love with Andrew. Well, not me exactly. My stupid, traitorous heart.

I sleep better knowing that a naked cork-eater is not sneaking around at night, stealing my underwear.

Much more plausible is the computer-based explanation that dreams are a spillover from the unconscious processing of the day's experience, from the brain's decision on how much of the daily events temporarily stored in a kind of buffer to emplace in long-term memory... The American psychiatrist Ernest Hartmann of Tufts University has providedanecdotal but reasonably persuasive evidence that people who are engaged in intellectual activities during the day, especially unfamiliar intellectual activities, require more sleep at night, while, by and large, those engaged in mainly repetitive and intellectually unchallenging tasks are able to do with much less sleep.

No amount of sleep will ever satisfy the tiredness i always feel.

Silence then, and the scent of apple trees, and the nightmare sense of grief that comes when a man wakes again to feel a loss he has forgotten in sleep.

I felt myself falling asleep; my eyes were closing, and then I thought, Maybe I should just kill myself. Suicidal thoughts always sneak up on me like that. But I don’t mind them. They’re like aspirin. They calm me down.

Unless you have a very good reason, never wake up anybody or anything! Let the sleeper sleep in peace.

There are vampires. They are real, they are of our time, and they are here, close by, stalking us as we sleep...

Look, de Mazel, you've known him for years - hasn't he been known to sleep for forty hours in two days?' 'Forty hours?' 'Certainly. He awoke at meal times, just to take nourishment, and afterwards fell again into his torpor. And Freneuse had a strange horror of sleep; there was some abnormal phenomenon associated with it, some lesion of the brain or neurotic depression.''The troublesome cerebral anaemia which results from excessive debauchery. Another myth! I've never believed, myself, in the supposed debauchery of that poor gentleman. Such a frail chap, with such a delicate complexion! Quite frankly, there was no scope in him for debauchery.'Pooh! About as much as Lorenzaccio!''You associate him with the Medicis! Lorenzaccio was a Florentine impassioned by rancour, a man of energy slowly brooding over his vengeance, caressing it as he might caress the blade of a dagger! There is not the slightest comparison to be drawn between Lorenzaccio and that gall-green, liverish creature Freneuse.

You drool in your sleep- Annabeth Chase

She sighed. “I can’t help it. I worry for you when you lead these patrols. I don’t sleep until you return."His features softened. “Then you don’t dream of me when I’m gone,

Death's brother, sleep.

it felt like waking up over and over without falling sleep in between.

She used to say she could taste sleep and that it was as delicious as a BLT on fresh French bread.

He sang softly, less with words and more with thought. She cradled his head, stitching together his fragmented heart.

Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit,And look on death itself!

The sleep he went back to was never the one he left.

I had a dream about you. You were crying, and I couldn’t tell if it was because you were sad or because you’d been laughing too hard. So I decided to find out by telling you that I’d just heard from the cops, and your mother had been murdered. Before I got to the punch line you started sobbing in a different manner, so I realized you’d been laughing earlier. By that time the mood had changed, and I decided it best not to deliver the punch line after all. So I sat down next to you and put my arm around you and tried to console you for your perceived loss.

IVREVEILLEWake: the silver dusk returningUp the beach of darkness brims,And the ship of sunrise burningStrands upon the eastern rims.Wake: the vaulted shadow shaatters,Trampled to the floor it spanned,And the tent of night in tatters Straws the sky-pavilioned land.Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:Hear the drums of morning play;Hark, the empty highways crying"Who'll beyond the hills away?"Towns and countries woo together,Forelands beacon, belfries call;Never lad that trod on leatherLived to feast his heart with all.Up, lad: thews that lie and cumberSunlit pallets never thrive;Morns abed and daylight slumberWere not meant for man alive.Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;Breath's a ware that will not keepUp, lad: when the journey's overThere'll be time enough to sleep.

Be passionate about your dreams and never give sleep to your eyes until your good becomes better and your better becomes the best.

There are times when you wake at dawn and check your neck for the marks of the vampire, those two little red dots, your pupils still contracted with hate, muscles weary from the struggle.

A chubby vole sat as guardian between the two sections, making sure the hoi polloi didn't get any ideas above their station. His name was Harold, and the most important thing he had learned in his life, as far as he was concerned, was that it was entirely possible to sleep with one's eyes open, or at least open enough to deceive passersby, if one was willing to put in a bit of practice. True, it wasn't as good as a full-on nap, but any degree of slumber was better than waking. As far as Harold was concerned, the biter part of existence lay in those little moments of oblivion that preceded the last.

It is in your best interest to avoid sleep debt, otherwise be prepared to pay both the DEBT and the INTEREST!

Plans make dreams reality.

Be honest with yourself; set the alarm for the time the Real You will get up, not the Ambitious You, because the Ambitious You doesn't really exist.

Stupid. Why do people want to pretendthat death is sleep? It isn’t. It isn’t

They had slept in the shelter of the ruins, though neither of them really got true rest.

Forget it, Jonathan, and go back to sleep. And before you go to sleep, pray that no well-meaning god ever makes you immortal.

I always thought time was the most valuable currency, but I realized the people we spent our time on and loved us back, that love held even more meaning to me.

And I'd noticed her eyes, the lightest blue, and alive, moving here and there and then staring straight on. And now there's darkness under her eyes like she hasn't slept well for too many days, almost like someone punched her just hard enough to leave a little black, a quarter-moon smudge under each eye.

Sleep occupies a third of our life. It is the consolation to the woes of our days or the woe of their pleasures; but I have never found that sleep was a rest. After a swoon of a few minutes a new life begins, freed from conditions of time and space, and doubtless like the life which awaits us after death. Who knows whether there does not exist a link between these two existences, and whether it is not possible for the soul now to bind them together?

In their sleep, both boys kept moving closer to me, and when I finally drifted off, there was one arm wrapped around my stomach and one hand intertwined with mine.

I had a dream about you. I was a ventriloquist trying to share your fashion secrets, but you wouldn’t talk. So we put on a strip show for the department store sale, and I was arrested for theft – I took away your dignity as a mannequin

It seemed the world was divided into good and bad people. The good ones slept better, [Cloquet thought,] while the bad ones seemed to enjoy the waking hours much more.

Alarm clocks are the bane of humanity. Sleep inertia, the decline in motor dexterity, subjective feeling of grogginess, and impaired state of awareness and mental performance is normal after awakening from even a light sleep. Scientific studies reveal that abruptly awakening from a deep sleep amplifies the severity and duration of sleep inertia.

What silence rules the ghostly hoursThat guard the close of human sleep!(“The Testimony of the Suns”)

I had a dream about you last night... shortly after I woke up screaming in terror.