Sleep Quotes - Page 8

Let's sleepyou on top of memy hands circling your waistyours holding my facemy legs entangled in yoursyours tenderly wrapped in mineyour eyes looking deeply into minemine staring longingly at yoursand we will keep searching for our footsteps in the sands of time...

She walked down the basement steps. She saw an imaginary framed photo seep into the wall - a quiet-smiled secret. No more than a few meters, it was a long walk to the drop sheets and the assortment of paint cans that shielded Max Vandenburg. She removed the sheets closest to the wall until there was a small corridor to look through. The first part of him she saw was his shoulder, and through the slender gap, she slowly, painfully, inched her hand in until it rested there. His clothing was cool. He did not wake.She could feel his breathing and his shoulder moving up and down ever so slightly. For a while, she watched him. Then she sat and leaned back.Sleepy air seemed to have followed her.The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder.They breathed.German and Jewish lungs.

Never waste any time you can spend sleeping.

Disturb my sleep but darling don't dare disturb my dreams!

I wasn't used to be these weak before. But the day I saw you, it felt like somebody was punching me very hard on my chest. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to sleep. With your name echoing in my mind all the time. Like somebody was singing a song to me, that no one else heard. It was the first time I realised how beautiful it is to be weak.

She was starmetal bones with kaleidoscope eyes. A cracked framework of unique beauty, a patchwork portrait filled with swirling brush strokes, an amalgamation of delicate light and detailed shatter. I could write a novel about the way she breathes.

Its hard to stay up. Its been a long long dayAnd you've got the sandman at your door. But hang on, leave the TV on and lets do it anyway.Its ok. You can always sleep through work tomorrow. Ok?Hey, Hey, Tomorrow's just your future yesterday.Tell the clock on the wall, "Forget the wake up call."Cause the night's not nearly through.Wipe the sleep from your eyes. Give yourself a surprise.Let your worries wait another day.And if you stay too late at the bar,At least you made it out this far. So make up your mind and say, "Let's do it anyway!"Its OkYou can always sleep through work tomorrow, ok? Hey, Hey, Tomorrow's just your future yesterday. Life's too short to worry about the things that you can live withoutAnd I regret to say, the morning light is hours away.The world can be such a fright, But it belongs to us tonight.What's the point of going to bed?You look so lovely when your eyes are red.Tomorrow's just your future yesterday.

I slept for over a full day, as you know, but I won’t say I rested.

Do not be alarmed if they look paler than the other maidens of Greece. They are scarcely of this Earth, and seem to be shaking off the sleep of a past life.

Whatever we may say, all of us suffer from disturbed sleep at times.Some in truth hardly sleep, though some who sleep copiously swear that they do not.Some are disquieted by incessant dreams, and a fortunate few are visited often by dreams of delightful character.Some will say that they were at one time troubled in sleeping but have 'recovered' from it, as though awareness were a disease, as perhaps it is.

His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate.

Sleeping is nice. You forget about everything for a little while.

How often one goes to sleep troubled and full of pain, not knowing what causes the travail, and in the morning a whole new direction and clearness is there, maybe the result of the black reasoning. And again there are mornings when ecstasy bubbles in the blood, and the stomach and chest are tight and electric with joy, and nothing in the thoughts to justify it or cause it.

It was not a bed with curtains, but a bed with doors like shutters. This may not seem like a nice way of having a bed, but we would all be glad of the wooden curtains about us at night if we lived in such a cottage, on the side of a hill along which the wind swept like a wild river. Through the cottage it would be streaming all night long. And a poor woman with a cough, or a man who has been out in the cold all day, is very glad of such a place to lie in, and leave the the rest of the house to the wind and the fairies.

With great power comes a great need to take a nap.

You will never be rewarded for the dreams you slept over day in day out. You will be rewarded for dreams you stay awake and achieved.

I think when we sleep, the world belongs to everyone still awake. Which means a shitload of the world belongs to Craig. ~Lio

Every time I go to sleep, I know I may never wake up. How could anyone expect to? You drop your tiny, helpless mind into a bottomless well, crossing your fingers and hoping when you pull it out on its flimsy fishing wire it hasn't been gnawed to bones by nameless beasts below.

And at 3am you sit near the window and wonder if there is magic... because all you need are some fairies to take your pain away and help you sleep... you take a book to read... you take a pen and a paper to write...you cling on some music that might just make you fall asleep... yet nothing helps... another sleepless night and all you want is the dawn to break soon....

The sigh of all the seas breaking in measure round the isles soothed them; the night wrapped them; nothing broke their sleep, until, the birds beginning and the dawn weaving their thin voices in to its whiteness

Asta Sollilja slept on, her head in the corner, mouth open, chin up, and head back, with one hand under her ear and the other half-open on the coverlet as if she thought in her sleep that someone would come and lay happiness in her palm.

I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.

Man's conscious state is an awareness of body and breath. His subconscious state, active in sleep, is associated with his mental, and temporary, separation from body and breath. His superconscious state is a freedom from the delusion that "existence" depends on body and breath. God lives without breath; the soul made in his image becomes conscious of itself, for the first time, only during the breathless state.

I used to sleep the sleep of someone who knew she was loved. Now, I didn't.

She slept the sleep of the just.

No book worth its salt is meant to put you to sleep, it's meant to make you jump out of your bed in your underwear and run and beat the author's brains out.

There were days when I still put on make up in case you’d come back,but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rainand eat when I can and sleep when I can,which is rare and not often,so if you’d see me nowon these streetswhere I once imagined walking with youyou’d have a hard time recognising me.I takes a lot to run away.

I've crossed some kind of invisible line. I feel as if I've come to a place I never thought I'd have to come to. And I don't know how I got here. It's a strange place. It's a place where a little harmless dreaming and then some sleepy, early-morning talk has led me into considerations of death and annihilation.

Then perhaps you shouldn't sleep. The imagination has terrifying power.

Bitch, if I ain't a G, I'm an OG

She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm and heavy and the sparkling darkness behind her lids became ordered and doors opened; when conscious thought grew owl's wings and talons and became other than conscious.

Be ordinary, but bring a quality of awareness to your ordinary life. Bring God to your ordinary life introduce God into your ordinary life. Sleep, eat, love, pray, meditate, but don’t think that you are making or doing something special—and then you will be special.

He kissed her forehead and drifted into an uneasy sleep, listening to the soft snoring of the creature on his chest, one he loved slightly more than he had come to fear.

He slept like an animal, well and lightly, faced in the opposite direction from that of a man; for a man going to sleep is about to escape into it while animals are prepared to escape out of it.

He could sleep in the ruins of cities lost for centuries.

I had a dream about you. You had no skin or muscle on your face, and to try to conceal your bare skull you liberally applied lipstick and makeup. Your birthday was coming up, and I knew you were probably sensitive about parties that emphasize the aging process, so I decided to box up your gift in a coffin and wrap it with black wrapping paper. I got you the best gift ever too—a hooker, who happened to be dead, because that enabled me to procure a sizeable discount.

To sleep and being able to. RareTo sleep and deserve it. Rarer.

Curled on my side, I snuggled deeper into the pile of furs lying under me. From the darkness, something growled softly and silenced the bird as a large warm hand soothed my hair. I sank back into my slumber.

The storm only grew stronger. Walls of facets became flooded with cracks, the tumultuous gale escaped through the smallest crevice. With her arms spread wide and all her muscles hard and taunt, she broke free from the chrysalis, letting loose her new wings and that mighty storm. I thought it was over, but I was wrong. She spread her wings and sang her song. She rode upon the howl of wind until she was gone.

How lucky I am to lose sleep over such a work of art.

Waking up begins with saying am and now. That which has awoken then lies for a while staring up at the ceiling and down into itself until it has recognized I, and therefrom deduced I am, I am now. Here comes next, and is at least negatively reassuring; because here, this morning, is where it has expected to find itself: what’s called at home.

Some of us have resolved to escape into drunkenness before the sleep takes us.

It was the end for something. It was the beginning for another. But in reality it just fell in the middle. In that confusing moment of time between my birth and my death.

What do you do when your words aren't enough? What do you do when your actions have no effect? What do you do when all the fibers of your existence scream just to be heard? And yet, only the most deafening silence returns the echoes of your screams. Is there something beyond words and action?

Certainty. Life's last and kindest gift.

My bed is the magical place I love to overthink like a PSYCHO.

In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.

I wear my past around my shoulders as a fine, but worn, cloak. Don't be fooled by my cloak's appearance, I have a three piece underneath.

I am a fading phantasmagoria. Time has left me in partial glory.

When it came to her, I became an indomitable warrior. My muscles became her shield and my lungs aided her breath. She would not fall with me by her side, for I was the wings that sprouted from her back. No one would cross her without first having to survive my wrath.

Put my head under my pillow, and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

Sleep did not honor me with it’s presence.

Sleep rest of nature O sleep most gentle of the divinities peace of the soul thou at whose presence care disappears who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments and makest them strong again for labour!

Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;With shield of proof shield me from out the preaseOf those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw.

Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.

She was poetry written in pen, scribbled and scrawled again and again.

there is some achingthat will only heal...in the mosque of sleep.

By helping us keep the world in perspective, sleep gives us a chance to refocus on the essence of who we are. And in that place of connection, it is easier for the fears and concerns of the world to drop away.

In bed, I can go for hours. Oh yes, I love naps.

She is beyond any mortal structure of words, yet she inspires the effort to try anyway.