Sleep Quotes

Men who are unhappy, like men who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact.

When we lost, I couldn't sleep at night. When we win, I can't sleep at night. But, when you win, you wake up feeling better.

In bed my real love has always been the sleep that rescued me by allowing me to dream.

It's hard to take over the world when you sleep 20 hours a day.

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, but now I want a Russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping.

When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence. Why have men spent the centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body? Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep.

The main essentials of a successful prime minister are sleep and a sense of history.

You find that you have peace of mind and can enjoy yourself, get more sleep, and rest when you know that it was a one hundred percent effort that you gave - win or lose.

Bored people, unless they sleep a lot, are cruel.

We spend our lives on the run: we get up by the clock, eat and sleep by the clock, get up again, go to work - and then we retire. And what do they give us? A bloody clock.

I cannot sleep for dreaming; I cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though I'd find you coming through some door.

True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment.

I believe the greatest asset a head of state can have is the ability to get a good night's sleep.

It's the arrangement of events which makes the stories. It's throwing away, compressing, underlining. Hindsight can give structure to anything, but you have to be able to see it. Breathing, waking and sleeping: our lives are steamed and shaped into stories. Knowing that is what keeps me from going insane, and though I don't like to admit it, sometimes it's the only thing.

Ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep.

—but I find her personality annoying. It's like being molested by a sleeping bag that speaks in Comic Sans with little love-hearts over the i's.

He taught them that the purpose of a man is to make his life holy—every aspect of his life: eating, drinking praying, sleeping. God is everywhere, he told them, and if it seems at times that He is hidden from us, it is only because we have not yet learned to seek Him correctly.

Do you want to tear your life apart and get rid of everything you've known as a lifestyle? Like seeing your family? Being with your friends? A fishing trip? A hunting trip? A night's sleep?

Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking.

The first moments of sleep are an image of death; a hazy torpor grips our thoughts and it becomes impossible for us to determine the exact instant when the 'I,' under another form, continues the task of existence.

To remember love after long sleep; to turn again to poetry after a year in the market place, or to youth after resignation to drowsy and stiffening age; to remember what once you thought life could hold, after telling over with muddied and calculating fingers what it has offered; this is music, made after long silence. The soul flexes its wings, and, clumsy as any fledgling, tries the air again

If gays are granted rights, next we'll have to give rights to prostitutes and to people who sleep with St. Bernards and to nail biters.

A well-spent day brings happy sleep.

I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless?

Little sleep's-head sprouting hair in the moonlight, when I come back we will go out together, we will walk out together among, the ten thousand things, each scratched too late with such knowledge, the wages of dying is love.

It seems to me so shocking to see the precious hours of a man's life - the priceless moments that will never come back to him again - being wasted in a mere brutish sleep.

To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.

I used to sleep nude - until the earthquake.

I needed sleep. Big squishy bunches of it. Soon.

Men tire themselves in pursuit of rest.

Art doesn't go to sleep in the bed made for it. It would sooner run away than say its own name: what it likes is to be incognito. Its best moments are when it forgets what its own name is.

Sleep is a daily reminder from God that we are not God. Once a day God sends us to bed like patients with a sickness. The sickness is a chronic tendency to think we are in control and that our work is indispensable. To cure us of this disease God turns us into helpless sacks of sand once a day.

This is not the way these tales end," Calliope said firmly. "This is not the way that things end when they get to be tales," Amatus said, "but since ours is not yet told, we cannot count on it. There were a hundred dead princes on the thorns outside Sleeping Beauty's castle, and I'm sure many of them were splendid fellows.

There's a strange sensation - you recall it from childhood - about sleeping in the afternoon. You rise into a different world from the one in which you lay down. The shadows have been rearranged. There's a sensation of sad sweetness, as if something has been overlooked. I used to feel it coming out of the movies just before dinnertime, after the matinee. How, I wondered, did Broadway actors face it, this bittersweet sense of time's slipping past.

I want to tell you a terrific story about oral contraception. I asked this girl to sleep with me and she said 'No.

True. The one certainty about riding, Braygan, is that - at some time - you will fall off. It is a fact. Another fact you might like to consider, in your life of perpetual terror, is that you will die. We are all going to die, some of us young, some of us old, some of us in our sleep, some of us screaming in agony. We cannot stop it, we can only delay it.

When sleep leaves the body like smoke and man, sated with secrets, drives the overworked nag of quarrel out of its stall, then the fire-breathing union begins anew . . .

Night has brought to those who sleep, only dreams they can not keep.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar;

Men speak of dreaming as if it were a phenomenon of night and sleep. They should know better. All results achieved by us are self-promised, and all self-promises are made in dreams awake. Dreaming is the relief of labor,the wine that sustains us in act. We learn to love labor, not for itself, but for the opportunity it furnishes for dreaming, which is the great under-monotone of real life, unheard, unnoticed, because of its constancy. Living is dreaming. Only in the graves are there no dreams.

Speech, tennis, music, skiing, manners, love- you try them waking and perhaps balk at the jump, and then you're over. You've caught the rhythm of them once and for all, in your sleep at night. The city, of course, can wreck it. So much insomnia. So many rhythms collide. The salesgirl, the landlord, the guests, the bystanders, sixteen varieties of social circumstance in a day. Everyone has the power to call your whole life into question here. Too many people have access to your state of mind. Some people are indifferent to dislike, even relish it. Hardly anyone I know.

Hunger, revenge, to sleep are petty foes, But only death the jealous eyes can close.

Let no man fear to die, we love to sleep all, and death is but the sounder sleep.

when the boogie man goes to sleep he checks his closet for me

I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake.

His insomnia was so bad, he couldn't sleep during office hours.

For there is nothing quite so terror-inducing as the loss of sleep. It creates phantoms and doubts, causes one to questions one's own abilities and judgement, and, over time, dismantles, from within, the body.

Even in the depths of sleep, in which he had to satisfy his need for protection and love by curling himself up into a trembling ball, he could not rid himself of the feeling of loneliness and homelessness.

I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.

SUCCESS is being able to come home, lay your head on the pillow and SLEEP in PEACE.

Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, Ease after war, death after life does greatly please.

People who have realized that this is a dream imagine that it is easy to wake up, and are angry with those who continue sleeping, not considering that the whole world that environs them does not permit them to wake. Life proceeds as a series of optical illusions, artificial needs and imaginary sensations.

I have these slumber parties with my father [Steve Tyler], and when we can't sleep we stay up all night trading beauty tips. He knows all about the good creams and masks.

He was in blue jeans and a work shirt, which is another weird quirk of Rich Old Men. Just one of the guys here. Blue jeans and a work shirt, salt of the earth, working man like yourself. Like they're somehow uncomfortable about being rich enough to sleep in a bed made of vaginas being pulled around the town at night by a fleet of gold-covered midgets.

A vast black sleep falls over my life sleep, all hope sleep, all desire.

I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. All I was doing was cocaine. I stayed awake for about two weeks, locked in my bedroom. I went down from a 142 pounds to 110 pounds.

Turn resolutely to work, to recreation, or in any case to physical exercise till you are so tired you can't help going to sleep, and when you wake up you won't want to worry.

With While You Were Sleeping, it was so much fun and such a Cinderella story, that I didn't want to do another romantic comedy. I wanted to do the opposite.

While we are sleeping, two-thirds of the world is plotting to do us in.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

So much for modern science and its wonderful discoveries that just about everything can kill you. Life is only a bedtime story before a long, long sleep.

You can't stay married in a situation where you are afraid to go to sleep in case your wife might cut your throat.

You can't look at a sleeping cat and be tense.

At the age of fifty-six Eleanor Stoddard was still a beautiful woman. She owned three hotels in France and another two in England. From nothing at all, she had built an empire. Eleanor had it all. Her one weakness was the young man sleeping beside her.

Cats sleep Anywhere, Any table, Any chair, Top of piano, Window-ledge, In the middle, On the edge.

The war between the sexes is the only one in which both sides regularly sleep with the enemy.

Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep.

A professor is someone who talks in someone else's sleep.

You sleep with people all the time that you hate.

I do believe in God. I think God has given so much power to people, and intelligence, and said, 'Well, you are on your own. Maybe I'm tired, I need a nap. You are mature. Why don't you look after yourselves?' And I think He's been sleeping too much.

Anyone can escape into sleep, we are all geniuses when we dream, the butcher's the poet's equal there.

I had a migraine for about seven or eight straight days, and I was unable to sleep most nights.

It's funny how sometimes how the public some people think I was born like this. That I maybe I sleep and I do big muscle, but it’s a lot of work to look like this and to be in this kind of condition.

Fatigue is the best pillow.

Marriage is good for those who are afraid to sleep alone at night.

Those who have compared our life to a dream were right... we were sleeping wake, and waking sleep.

Men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war.

For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.

Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.

Wait for those unguarded moments. Relax the mood and, like the child dropping off to sleep, the subject often reveals his truest self.

To long for that which comes not. To lie a-bed and sleep not. To serve well and please not. To have a horse that goes not. To have a man obeys not. To lie in jail and hope not. To be sick and recover not. To lose one's way and know not. To wait at door and enter not, and to have a friend we trust not: are ten such spites as hell hath not.

Never hurry. Take plenty of exercise. Always be cheerful. Take all the sleep you need. You may expect to be well.

I cannot sleep - great joy is as restless as great sorrow.

I have fed purely upon ale; I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale.

Sleep, Silence's child, sweet father of soft rest, Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings Indifferent host to shepherds and kings Sole comforter to minds with grief oppressed.

A good husband is never the first to go to sleep at night or the last to awake in the morning.

I am writing this during my lunch period, because I need to reach towards the outside world of sanity, because I am overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the clerical work still to be done, and because at this hour of the morning normal ladies are still sleeping.

A schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn't sleep on Monday nights.

Poets are excellent students of blizzards and salt and broken statuary, but they are always elsewhere for the test. Any intention in the writing of poetry besides the aim to make a poem, of engaging the materials, SHOULD be disappointed. If the poet does not have the chutzpah to jeopardize habituated assumptions and practices, what will be produced will be sleep without dream, a copy of a copy of a copy.

Can you remember when you didn't want to sleep? Isn't it inconceivable? I guess the definition of adulthood is that you want to sleep.

It is not the dream of what you're feeling laziness, if not, the sleep of exhaustion.

When some people get parts, they feel they can now relax, but for me it was always the opposite. Sometimes before I do a movie or before I act out a scene, I may not sleep well the night before. If I don't know what the scene is about, I might get all worked up.

There was a brief moment of weightlesssness: a balancing point between air and earth, dirt and heaven. How strange, I thought, how like the moment between sleeping and falling when everything is beautifully surreal and nothing is corporeal. How like floating towards completion. But as often happens in that time between existing in the world and fading into dreams, this moment over the edge ended with the ruthless jerk back to awareness.

You learned that if you're tired enough, you can sleep sitting up. That the unendurable is perfectly endurable if you just take it a minute at a time, and when the alternative is no more minutes ever...

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Did anyone ever have a boring dream?

I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark

My worst habit is whistling while I sleep.

Don’t sleep too much. If you sleep 3 hours less each night for a year, you will have an extra month and a half to succeed in.

At the crash of economic collapse of which the rumblings can already be heard, the sleeping soldiers of the proletariat will awake as at the fanfare of the Last Judgment and the corpses of the victims of the struggle will arise and demand an accounting from those who are loaded down with curses.

Left-handers have more enthusiasm for life. They sleep on the wrong side of the bed, and their head gets more stagnant on that side.

You know, that's the only good thing about divorce; you get to sleep with your mother.

Don't worry about your physical shortcomings. I am no Greek god. Don't get too much sleep and don't tell anybody your troubles. Appearances count: Get a sun lamp to keep you looking as though you have just come back from somewhere expensive: maintain an elegant address even if you have to live in the attic. Never nickel when short of cash. Borrow big, but always repay promptly.

The fifties are a peaceful time, a quiet sleeping time between two noisy bursts of years, a blue and white time filled with sweet yellow days, music and bright smelling memories.

I say I don't sleep with married men, but what I mean is that I don't sleep with happily married men.

Sleeping in a bed — it is, apparently, of immense importance. Against those who sleep, from choice or necessity, elsewhere society feels righteously hostile. It is not done. It is disorderly, anarchical.

Sweet sleep be with us, one and all! And if upon its stillness fall The visions of a busy brain, We'll have our pleasure o'er again, To warm the heart, to charm the sight, Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.

There's a lot of pain in my heart because what I accomplished was second to none. I'm not losing any sleep, but I do pay attention every year at this time.

I sleep completely naked to make me believe you are here, but when I wake up it is not the same thing. Most of all, don't deceive me with other women any more.

Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep.

Hugh Grant and I both laugh and cringe at the same things, worship the same books, eat the same food, hate central heating and sleep with the window open. I thought these things were vital, but being two peas in a pod ended up not being enough.

I have a picture of the Pont Neuf on a wall in my apartment, but i know that Paris is really on the closet shelf, in the box next to the sleeping bag, with the rest of my diaries.

My father had always said there are four things a child needs: plenty of love, nourishing food, regular sleep, and lots of soap and water. After that, what he needs most is some intelligent neglect.

The watchful mother tarries nigh, though sleep has closed her infants eyes.

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies. The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep, The sky if no longer dark tempests deform; When our perils are past shall our gratitude sleep? No! Here's to the pilot that weather'd the storm!

Elizabeth was counting on Marco to keep cousin Mary occupied until after the board meeting was over. A piece of cheese might catch a mouse, but an afternoon alone with a muscular masseur would ensnare her cousin far more effectively. And afterwards, while Mary lay sated and sleeping upon a massage table, wiser heads could determine the company's future. There were times, Elizabeth thought, when success in business demanded utter ruthlessness.

Finish each day before you begin the next, and interpose a solid wall of sleep between the two. This you cannot do without temperance.

Never under any circumstances take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

The boss is never your friend, even if you're sleeping with him.

There is only one thing people like that is good for them; a good night's sleep

Dreams are nothing but incoherent ideas, occasioned by partial or imperfect sleep.

Secrets find a way out in sleep . . . It is the place where there is no pretense.

Sleep is the best meditation.

Your bones have been my bedframe and your flesh has been my pillow. And I'm waiting for sleep.

Rest is for the weary, sleep is for the dead.

A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.

We are not hypocrites in our sleep.

I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.

Providence has given us hope and sleep as a compensation for the many cares of life.

Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.

Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe; But 't is the happy that have called thee so.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Health is the first muse, and sleep is the condition to produce it.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep: and yet a third of Life is passed in sleep

Haven't laughed this hard in a long time. I better stop now before I start crying. Go off to sleep in the sunshine...I don't want to see the day when its dying.

We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.

The man who says his evening prayer is a captain posting his sentinels. He can sleep.

Childhood is the sleep of reason.

The feeling of sleepiness when you are not in bed, and can't get there, is the meanest feeling in the world

Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. No wonder you feel that lost sensation. You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.

I sing seriously to my mom on the phone. To put her to sleep, I have to sing 'Maria' from West Side Story. When I hear her snoring, I hang up.

The vow of silence, that's the mind-blower. See, talking is what I do... i t's a real need with me, a craving, I'm like a word junkie. I never shut up. I talk to myself, I talk in my sleep. The idea of voluntarily turning off that tap, I can't imagine it It'd be like, I don't know, all the rivers in the world just slammed to a stop. No churning, no flowing, no white water, just stillness, crushing stillness. I don't think I could stand it, locked up like that in my own psyche. I'd collapse into myself, I'd implode

In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.