Quotes
Quotes about Sleep
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
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 gaveâwin or lose.
Three things give us hardy strength: sleeping on hairy mattresses, breathing cold air, and eating dry food.
The studious class are their own victims; they are thin and pale, their feet are cold, their heads are hot, the night is without sleep, the day a fear of interruption,--pallor, squalor, hunger, and egotism. If you come near them and see what conceits they entertain--they are abstractionists, and spend their days and nights in dreaming some dream; in expecting the homage of society to some precious scheme built on a truth, but destitute of proportion in its presentment, of justness in its application, and of all energy of will in the schemer to embody and vitalize it.
The gent who wakes up and finds himself a success hasn't been asleep.
Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep, All things within its bosom sleep! A single step, and all is o'er, A plunge, a bubble, and no more.
Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows.
Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning.
I have a strong suspicion . . . that much that passes for constant love is a golded- up moment walking in its sleep.
And friends, dear friends,--when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And gone my bier ye come to weep, Let One, most loving of you all, Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall; He giveth His beloved sleep."
Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will. Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still.
Six hours in sleep is enough for youth and age. Perhaps seven for the lazy, but we allow eight to no one.
Backward, flow backward, O full tide of years! I am so weary of toil and of tears, Toil without recompense--tears all in vain, Take them and give me my childhood again. I have grown weary of dust and decay, Weary of sowing for others to reap; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kinds of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep. To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, He had the dialect and different skill, Catching all passions in his craft of will; . . .
To be, or not to be--that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-- No more--and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to.
Where the pools are bright and deep Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea That's the way for Billy and me.
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down And rest your gentle head upon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team Begins his golden progress in the east.
A professor is one who talks in someone else's sleep.
Beware of rashness, but with energy, and sleepless vigilance, go forward and give us victories.
Our revels are now ended. These our actors As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Is rounded with a sleep.
In some parts of Ireland the sleep which knows no waking is always followed by a wake which knows no sleeping.
Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.
The faint old man shall lean his silver head To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, And dry the moistened curls that overspread His temples, while his breathing grows more deep.
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof; now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples; And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
By the way, The works of women are symbolical. We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight, Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir, To put on when you're weary--or a stool To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool! Or else at best, a cushion where you lean And sleep, and dream of something we are not, But would be for your sake. Alas, alas! This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid The worth of our work, perhaps.
