Sleeping Quotes

There’s an infant part in our souls which longs for the lullaby truths of life every night for a tranquil slumber.

A non-religious person when awaken would make others sleep. Therefore his sleeping is good. A religious person when awaken will awaken others. Therefore his awakening is good.

I had a dream about you last night. The best day of my life was when I taught you how to juggle, but the best day of yours was when you taught someone else.

In between waking up from bed in the morning and going back in the evening, let something happen. God will bless that “something” for you.

I had a dream about you last night. We went to the store cupboard to make out, but we ended up sharing our pain and then crying together. We wasn't prepared for this level of intimacy.

The secret to creating a five-star sleeping environment is about using your five senses.

Beds ain't for sleeping, and clothes ain't for bed.

This morning I woke up before the alarm clock went off and the sky outside was a big red ocean. You're beautiful when you're sleeping so I spent an hour observing the way you breathe. Inhale, exhale, without a thought of tomorrow. The window was open and the air was so crisp and I couldn't imagine how to ever ask for more than this.

Sleeping AtlantisSilent cool watersdancing upon her skin ~silent cool waterushering dreams within...

Lay downYour tired & weary head my friend.We have wept too longNight is fallingAnd you are only sleepingWe have come to this journey's endIt's time for us to goTo meet our friendsWho beckon usTo jump againFrom across a distant skyA C-130 comes to carry usWhere we shall all wait For the final green lightIn the light ofThe pale moon risingI see far on the horizonInto the world of night and darknessFeet and knees togetherTime has ceasedBut cherished memories still lingerThis is the way of life and all thingsWe shall meet againYou are only sleeping.

A few nights later, I secretly hope that I might be a genius. Why else can no amount of sleeping pills fell my brain? But in the morning my daughter asks me what a cloud is and I cannot say.

Naps are not a sign of physical slovenliness. They are a sign that I am listening to my body. It will reward me with stable emotions, hormones that stay in check, social finesse, continued cleverness, and the ability to write prose that does not make me gag.

I had a dream about you. You suggested to split the profits, so I did. I threw one half in the furnace to power the steam engine, and the other half in the air to distract our pursuers.

Astride of a grave and a difficult birth.Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps.We have time to grow old.The air is full of our cries.But habit is a great deadener.At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing.Let him sleep on.

Men are vile creatures, really. using women up, casting them aside. Leaving them along and broken, Better to leave them first, isn't it? Better yet to pay them back, and leave them bleeding,Sick and tired of being the one left behind, aren't you? And all the fighting, all the death. I can help you with that. I'd so like to help you.

This love is hard core. Let's make it soft porn.

The SleepingI have imagined all this:In 1940 my parents were in loveAnd living in the loft on West 10thAbove Mark Rothko who painted cabbage rosesOn their bedroom walls the night they got married.I can guess why he did it.My mother’s hair was the color of yellow applesAnd she wore a velvet hat with her pajamas.I was not born yet. I was remote as starlight.It is hard for me to imagine thatMy parents made love in a roomful of rosesAnd I wasn’t there.But now I am. My mother is blushing.This is the wonderful thing about art.It can bring back the dead. It can wake the sleepingAs it might have late that nightWhen my father and mother made love above RothkoWho lay in the dark thinking Roses, Roses, Roses.

Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow. Though I’ve never led an army, I am a wanderer. I cradle 'The Odyssey' nights while the moon is waning, as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

Don't consider my kindness as my weakness, the beast in me is sleeping not dead.

Sleep like you can never be deadDream as if you have a soul inside your head

Through the night we drove in a tangle of waking and sleeping, nightmares from hell and holy white dreams.

I had a dream about you last night... Unfortunately, it wasn't a dream.

I don't sleep. I just let my body lie itself into numbness and lie to myself that I can't hear, see, or feel anything.

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

I rest in ease, knowing there are others out there, whispering themselves to sleep, just like me.

Even when I'm sleeping, I go to places where you are.

The blood is sleeping. But the desire of feeling my own senses has grown deep, filled with an unstoppable tremendous drive to eliminate the lifeless stuff, which has gotten chained to me and lulled me to sleep.The rivers of my veins start to flow more and more powerful in every unit of time like lava underground!

I’m awake and I can’t sleep. The more I’m awake, the more I see, and the harder to sleep.

I had a dream about you. You were being hung. I had a sword in one hand and a stool in the other. I couldn’t decide which one to use, so I stood on the stool and threw myself on the sword. It was the least I could do to protest capital punishment.

If I am to choose between "sleeping" and "being part of a leadership that pursues irrelevant agenda", I will choose "sleeping". Chasing of irrelevant agenda by a leadership sect is what made Nelson Mandela to call it "Long Walk to Freedom!

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun?I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without.I want to be someone you can’t live without.

I had a dream about you last night. It wasn't until after you sold me the talking car, I realized you were the world’s best ventriloquist.

I had a dream about you last night.. You were in the amazon rain forest yipping like a dog.

I had a dream about you. You were wearing Sylvester Stallone's sneer as pants, but his lips were saggy on your legs, so you had to wear a mustache as a belt.

Perhaps that is what I like about these moments of leisurely insight, that come while lying comfortably in the beautiful in-between state of sleeping and waking, dreaming and doing, in which anything is possible and everything is lovely.

Your life should consist of more than commuting, working, eating, surfing the Internet, sleeping and watching TV. Your life should be filled with purpose-driven experiences and projects that bring excitement, passion, energy, and authentic meaning and joy into your life.

We live in an era that sleeping with an individual is easier than loving.

I am such a bad girl," she thought. Yet...

This is the day the Lord himself has made! Do something on it before it begins to fade! Do something you have said! Do it before it's time for bed!

Today, a lot of people, businesses, countries and even churches have their dreams sleeping in the belly of the shark where they are starved because they chose the wrong path although they know the right destination! The consequence is "becoming uncomfortable" because you refuse to let your dreams go to let "Niviveh"!

Two things I can't stand - sitting and sleeping.

Dreaming permits each and everyone of us to be quietly insane every night of out lives.

I also noticed that as you go to sleep the ideas continue, but they become less and less logically interconnected. You don't notice that they're not logically connected until you ask yourself, "What made me think of that?" and you try to work your way back, and often you can't remember what the hell did make you think of that!

I had a dream about you. We installed Dr. Robert Jarvik’s artificial heart in a mannequin and brought it to life, only to later kill it because a creature that’s all fake heart and no brain is what’s commonly called a “politician,” and must be destroyed.

I had a dream about you last night... you were crying over spilt ink screaming "the words, the what could have been beautiful words.

I had a dream about you last night... you were a giant slinky and I watched you fall down the stairs.

Never underestimate a warrior; the lion in him may be sleeping, but that does not mean he’s dead.

If you can't be the change, you can set an example for change. If you can't set an example for change, you can go and sleep! By all means, you can do something!

A stranger sleeps next to me, like a stone beside another stone.

I had a dream about you. We were ice fishing in my freezer. I caught a few cold beers, and you wondered if we should drink them, or throw them back because they were babies.

Beds aren't for sleeping, and clothes aren't for bed.

Walking through a deserted city in the hours before dawn is sobering way beyond the undoing of the effects of alcohol. Every thing is familiar, and everything is strange. It's as if you are the only survivor of some mysterious calamity which has emptied the place of its population, and yet you know that behind the shuttered and curtained windows people lie sleeping in their tens of thousands, and all their joys and disasters lie sleeping too. It makes you think of your own life, usually suspended at that hour, and how you are passing through it as if in a dream. Reality seems very unreal.

Among the many factors that differentiate successful people from consistent failures one is paramount; when failures were sleeping, successful people where thinking!

I had a dream about you last night. We stopped telling each other about our dreams when we realized we were still inside them.

Stay the night, said the officer, patting a confiscated couch. I'll keep my hands off you. I promise.You have more than hands, said Elie.My feet are safe, too, said the officer. He pointed to a hole in his boots, and they laughed.

I had a dream about you. I was sitting on your couch, relating my succession of ideas on subconscious influence. I asked you what they meant, and you told me that free associations were a bad way to advance my political career.

All the means we've been given to stay alert we use to ornament our sleep. If instead of endlessly inventing new ways to make life more comfortable we'd apply our ingenuity to fabricating instruments to jog man out of his torpor!

The season was waning fastOur nights were growing cold at lastI took her to bed with silk and song,'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long;I must prepare my body for passion.''O, your body you give, but all else you ration.''It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene:A bleeding nymph to leave me serene...I have dreams of a trembling wench.''You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.''Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared;As our longing for love can never be cured.Our want is our way and our way is our will,We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.''If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill...This love, our love, that no one can kill.'Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.

You'd corner me in your conformity but even in dormancy i'm sleeping with enormity, stretching the belly of the earth & everything i was born to be.

It's the smell of him in the bathroom, all I need to get ready for the day. Watching him get dressed, and the sound in the kitchen; a slow hum of a song and his movements, picking things to eat. The way I could observe him, for hours, just go on with his day – or as he sleeps – simply breathing in and out, in and out, and it's like the hymn that sings me to peace. I know the world is still out there and I know I'm not yet friendly to its pace, but as long as I know him with me, here, there, somewhere – us – I know I have a chance.