Sleep Quotes

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

“When was the last time you were kissed?" he went on easily. "And I'm not talking about the dry, noncommittal, meaningless kiss you forget about as soon as it's over." I scrambled out of my stupor long enough to quip, "Like last night's kiss?" He cocked an eyebrow. "That so? I wonder, then, why you moaned my name after you drifted to sleep." "I did not!""If only I'd had a video recorder. When was the last time you were really kissed?" he repeated."You seriously think I'm going to tell you?" "Your ex?" he guessed. "And if he was?""Was it your ex who taught you to be ashamed and uncomfortable with intimacy? He took from you what he wanted, but never seemed to be around when you wanted something back, isn't that right? What do you want, Britt?" he asked me point-blank. "Do you really want to pretend like last night never happened?" "Whatever happened between me and Calvin isn't your business,” I fired back."For your information, he was a really great boyfriend. I-I wish I was with him right now!" I exclaimed untruthfully. My careless comment made him flinch, but he recovered quickly."Does he love you?" "What?" I said, flustered. "If you know him so well, it shouldn't be a hard question. Is he in love with you? Was he ever in love with you?"I tossed my head back haughtily. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to cut him down because you're-you're jealous of him!" "You're damn right I'm jealous,” he growled. "When I kiss a girl, I like to know she's thinking about me, not the fool who gave her up.”

“Stop the bleeding! Gauze the wound!" And his voice became much softer, "Those are the words... I've yet to write." He died with that exhale. He died in a steaming carmine pool of unwritten stories that incredibly cold night. He always thought his work would take the form of ink, pen and paper, but as the last glow dimmed in his eyes, he realized his most meaningful words were sloppily spilled and patched together using blood, bullet holes and concrete.”

“Take time to enjoy the flight - read a good book, watch a film, catch up on emails and sleep.”

“I have a very spartan flat in London, and when they see it people say: 'Why don't you make it more homely?' The reason is that it's just a place to sleep when I'm working.”

“Whether I get four hours of sleep or eight, I always feel well-rested.”

“Some astronauts sleep in sort of beds - compartments that you can open up and crawl into and then close up, almost like a little bedroom.”

“As all of us know, health is deeply intertwined with culture: what we eat, how active we are, how much we sleep. These are rooted in cultural norms.”

“Let the night take you. Let the stars evaporate into your dreams. Let sleep be the only comfort for you to believe.”

“Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave bereft I am not there. I have not left.”

“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 heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.”

“You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. Every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate art.”

“For a billion years the patient earth amassed documents and inscribed them with signs and pictures which lay unnoticed and unused. Today, at last, they are waking up, because man has come to rouse them. Stones have begun to speak, because an ear is there to hear them. Layers become history and, released from the enchanted sleep of eternity, life's motley, never-ending dance rises out of the black depths of the past into the light of the present.”

“Hawks is great, 'The Treasure of Sierra Madre,' 'The Big Sleep'... He could do the Salt-of-the-Earth very well. He was a very smooth director; a very good film architect in terms of his storytelling.”

“In season, and on game days, you are so used to shoot-around, going back home to eat lunch and sleep and then coming back to the arena for the game. Or you come and practice and then you rest.”

“When I'm not doing a project or working, I also eat and sleep at home in my comfy clothes.”

“Death was a quiet evil, unavoidable like the dark night and defenseless sleep and tearful sorrows. It had hunted her down and slithered close, wanting only to smother every last flicker of”

“Last night you left me and sleptyour own deep sleep. Tonight you turnand turn. I say,‘You and I will be togethertill the universe dissolves.’You mumble back things you thought ofwhen you were drunk.”

“When, shortly afterward, I stopped at the top of the hill and saw the town beneath me, my feeling of happiness was so ecstatic that I didn’t know how I would be able to make it home, sit there and write, eat, or sleep. But the world is constructed in such a way that it meets you halfway in moments precisely like these, your inner joy seeks an outer counterpart and finds it, it always does, even in the bleakest regions of the world, for nothing is as relative as beauty. Had the world been different, in my opinion, without mountains and oceans, plains and seas, deserts and forests, and consisted of something else, inconceivable to us, as we don’t know anything other than this, we would also have found it beautiful. A world with gloes and raies, evanbillits and conulames, for example, or ibitera, proluffs, and lopsits, whatever they might be, we would have sung their praises because that is the way we are, we extol the world and love it although it’s not necessary, the world is the world, it’s all we have. So as I walked down the steps toward the town center on this Wednesday at the end of August I had a place in my heart for everything I beheld. A slab of stone worn smooth in a flight of steps: fantastic. A swaybacked roof side by side with an austere perpendicular brick building: so beautiful. A limp hot-dog wrapper on a drain grille, which the wind lifts a couple of meters and then drops again, this time on the pavement flecked with white stepped-on chewing gum: incredible. A lean old man hobbling along in a shabby suit carrying a bag bulging with bottles in one hand: what a sight. The world extended its hand, and I took it.”

“This is my life! I'm not getting a lot of sleep, but I am getting a lot of frequent-flyer miles.”