152 Rest Quotes

We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.

A man can do only what he can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep at night and do it again the next day.

Americans need rest, but do not know it. I believe this to be a large part of the explanation of the crime wave in the United States.

Music is 99% of my life. But I know I need a break. Besides, if you give people too much, they start to not want it. We need to restrain ourselves.

What do I want to take home from my summer vacation? Time. The wonderful luxury of being at rest. The days when you shut down the mental machinery that keeps life on track and let life simply wander. The days when you stop planning, analyzing, thinking and just are. Summer is my period of grace.

I haven't been to sleep for over a year. That's why I go to bed early. One needs more rest if one doesn't sleep.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.

One great thing about getting old is that you can get out of all sorts of social obligations just by saying you're too tired.

When I sleep I sleep and do not dream because it is as well that I am what I seem when I am in my bed and dream.

Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.

Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Here grow the wallflower and the violet. The squirrel will come and sit upon your knee, the logcock will wake you in the morning. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill. Of all the upness accessible to mortals, there is no upness comparable to the mountains.

Good soldiers never pass up a chance to eat or sleep. They never know how much they'll be called on to do before the next chance.

Time, motion and wine cause sleep.

What is without periods of rest will not endure.

The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!

That indolent but agreeable condition of doing nothing.

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.

I don't generally like running. I believe in training by rising gently up and down from the bench.

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed. Inaction, no falsifying dream Between my hooked head and hooked feet: Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

Don't want to discuss it, I think it's time for a change You may get disgusted, some think that I'm strange In that case I'll go underground, get some heavy rest Never have to worry, about what is worst and what is best.

Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

Do not let Sunday be taken from you - If your soul has no Sunday, it becomes an orphan.

We're not really taught how to recreate constructively. We need to do more than find diversions; we need to restore and expand ourselves. Our idea of relaxing is all too often to plop down in front of the television set and let its pandering idiocy liquefy our brains. Shutting off the thought process is not rejuvenating; the mind is like a car battery- it recharges by running.

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.

O sweet clean earth, from whom the green blade cometh! When we are dead, my best beloved and I, Close well above us, that we may rest forever, Sending up grass and blossoms to the sky.

'He who cannot rest, cannot work; he who cannot let go, cannot hold on; he who cannot find footing, cannot go forward.'

If all the skies were sunshine, Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence. To break the endless song. If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief.

It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.

Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew. In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too.

There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled.

How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!

Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe; But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.

I yield to no man in sympathy for the gallant men under my command; but I am obliged to sweat them tonight, so that I may save their blood tomorrow. The line of hills southwest of Winchester must not be occupied by the enemies artillery. My own must be there and in position by daylight. ... You shall however have two hours rest.

Light the first light of evening, as in a room In which we rest and, for small reason, think The world imagined is the ultimate good.

That happy age when a man can be idle with impunity.

Under bare Ben Bulben's head In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.

Two hands upon the breast, And labour's done; Two pale feet crossed in rest, The race is won.

Dreams - are well - but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn - If One wake at Midnight - better - Dreaming - of the Dawn -

The bride has entered The pleasant and desirable garden, And there reposes to her heart's content; Her neck reclining On the sweet arms of the Beloved. ~ 22

It was like he attacked sleep, a frontal assault, took it by the throat and forced it to yield him the rest he needed. Rest, but no peace

I think if you left grownups to do what the really actually wanted most in the world to do, every single one of them would lie down and take a nap for the rest of their life. I know this because that's what every grownup does as soon as they're alone

Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.

We hear the wail of the remorseful winds In their strange penance. And this wretched orb Knows not the taste of rest; a maniac world, Homeless and sobbing through the deep she goes.

Sabbath, n. A weekly festival having its origin in the fact that God made the world in six days and was arrested on the seventh.

O Death, rock me asleep, Bring me to quiet rest, Let pass my weary guiltless ghost Out of my careful breast.

[Said Aslan,] 'But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear my voice. [...] But I will give him the only gift he is able to receive. [...] Sleep and be separated for some few hours from all the torments you have devised for yourself.' (ch. 14)

When she had done her work, she would go over to the chimney corner, and sit among the cinders.

'Come and relax now, put your troubles down. No need to bear the weight of your worries, just let them all fall away'

'I think I'm gonna take a seat for this one. Sometimes you just gotta take a fucking load off.' June, 2005. Hartford, Connecticut.

Don't you get an empty feeling in your soul when you have a blank to-do list?

I thank God for this ten weeks' quiet before the end... Life has always been hurried and full of difficulty... This time of rest has been a great mercy.

What use is it to slumber here: Though the heart be sad and weary? What use is it to slumber here Though the day rise dark and dreary?

Given the choice between accomplishing something and just lying around, I'd rather lie around. No contest.

Wasting time has an esthetics to it.

Certainly work is not always required of man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness - the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.

We combat obstacles in order to get repose, and, when got, the repose is insupportable.

The hardest thing about being James Brown is I have to live. I don't have no down time.

'I shall soon be rested,' said Fanny; 'to sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.'

Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.

O'er all the hilltops Is quiet now, In all the treetops Hearest thou Hardly a breath; The birds are asleep in the trees: Wait; soon like these Thou too shalt rest.

I now leave that bed which has afforded me little rest, and eagerly seek repose in the quiet enjoyments of rural life.

'...it is not when he is working in his office but when he is lying idly on the sand that his soul utters, 'Life is beautiful.'' (p. 2)

If you spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned how to live.

Different subjects and different affairs are arranged in my head as in a cupboard. When I wish to interrupt one train of thought, I shut that drawer and open another. Do I wish to sleep, I simply close all the drawers and then I am- asleep.

I wouldn't have said off-hand that I had a subconscious mind, but I suppose I must without knowing it, and no doubt it was there, sweating away diligently at the old stand, all the while the corporeal Wooster was getting his eight hours.

O quanta qualia sunt illa sabbata, quae semper celebrat superna curia.

Come sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, The indifferent judge between the high and low.

Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action.

The storm is over, the land hushes to rest: The tyrannous wind, its strength fordone, Is fallen back in the west.

Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly I well know whither, And rest I well know where.

A faculty for idleness implies a catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal identity.

Call a truce, then, to our labors - let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if 'faint and forced the laughter,' and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it - lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew!

For our penitence deserves a glimpse only; our toil respite only.

Give me a Leonard Cohen afterworld So I can sigh eternally

To act is to rest.