Quotes
Quotes about Sleep
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!
Let sleep itself be an exercise in piety, for such as our life and conduct have been, so also of necessity will be our dreams.
A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.
We are slumberous poppies, Lords of Lethe downs, Some awake and some asleep, Sleeping in our crowns. What perchance our dreams may know, Let our serious may know. - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),
Every castle of the air Sleeps in the fine black grains, and there Are seeds for every romance, or light Whiff of a dream for a summer night.
Visions for those too tired to sleep, These seeds cast a film over eyes which weep.
Gentle sleep! Scatter thy drowsiest poppies from above; And in new dreams not soon to vanish, bless My senses with the sight of her I love.
The hermit doesn't sleep at night, in love with the blue of the vacant moon. The cool of the breeze that rustles the trees rustles him too.
Laugh and the world laughs with you; snore and you sleep alone.
If you're going to do something tonight that you'll be sorry for tomorrow, sleep late.
I do not understand the capricious lewdness of the sleeping mind.
Anyone can escape into sleep, we are all geniuses when we dream, the butcher's the poet's equal there. - The Tempation to Exist.
A quiet conscience sleeps in thunder.
The profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until an equal mind and heart finds and publishes it.
People are so busy dreaming the American Dream, fantasizing about what they could be or have a right to be, that they're all asleep at the switch. Consequently we are living in the Age of Human Error.
And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.
Remorse goes to sleep during a prosperous period and wakes up in adversity. [Fr., Le remords s'endort durant un destin prospere et s'aigrit dans l'adversite.]
I shall need to sleep three weeks on end to get rested from the rest I've had.
And see the rivers how they run Through woods and meads, in shade and sun, Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,-- Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life to endless sleep!
So, fall asleep love, loved by me....for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings, But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings! How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed-- All murdered; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence, Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends. Subjected thus,
Gently on tiptoe Sunday creeps, Cheerfully from the stars he peeps, Mortals are all asleep below, None in the village hears him go; E'en chanticleer keeps very still, For Sunday whispered, 'twas his will.
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep, And all the western world believe and sleep.
The birds chaunt melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a checkered shadow on the ground; Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise; And after conflict such as was supposed The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurse's song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
