100 Sleep Quotes

The wind shrieks, the wind grieves; It dashes the leaves on walls, it whirls then again; And the enormous sleeper vaguely and stupidly dreams And desires to stir, to resist a ghost of pain.

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.

I love sleep because it is both pleasant and safe to use. Pleasant because one is in the best possible company and safe because sleep is the consummate protection against the unseemliness that is the invariable consequence of being awake. What you don't know won't hurt you. Sleep is death without the responsibility.

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.

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.

When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victim's body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.

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.

Nothing helps you sleep at night so much as being absolutely certain that you're right, and everyone else is evil.

A question: when is a bed not a bed? When it is angled lie-flat. My back hurts, my legs ache and my clothes are all rumpled - and all because the airline, which claimed to have a bed, actually offered up a torture machine which I prefer to call a slide.

For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not for him in the night any so hideous phantasmagoria as will not become, in the clarity of the next morning, a spruce procession for him to lead. Brief the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him, and he sees nothing dreadful after all. 'Why not?' is the sun's bright message to him, and 'Why not indeed?' his answer.'

Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep, - that death is slumber, And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber Of those who wake and live.

I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright.

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 am in no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardize of company, yet in one dream I can compose a whole Comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof.

We term sleep a death, and yet it is waking that kills us, and destroys those spirits that are the house of life.

Half our days we pass in the shadow of the earth; and the brother of death exacteth a third part of our lives.

That some have never dreamed is as improbable as that some have never laughed.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

Sleep- the most beautiful experience in life- except drink.

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull. At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head. Only you can cool my desire. Oh, I'm on fire.

For the first twenty years of my life I rocked myself to sleep. It was a harmless enough hobby, but eventually I had to give it up. Throughout the next twenty-two years I lay still and discovered that after a few minutes I could drop off with no problem. Follow seven beers with a couple of scotches and a thimble of good marijuana, and it's funny how sleep just sort of comes on its own. Often I never even make it to bed. I'd squat down to pet the cat and wake up on the floor eight hours later, having lost a perfectly good excuse to change my clothes. I'm now told that this is not called 'going to sleep' but rather 'passing out,' a phrase that carries a distinct hint of judgment.

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

May the merciful gods, if indeed there be such, guard those hours when no power of the will, or drug that the cunning of man devises, can keep me from the chasm of sleep. Death is merciful, for there is no return therefrom, but with him who has come back out of the nethermost chambers of night, haggard and knowing, peace rests nevermore. Fool that I was to plunge with such unsanctioned frensy into mysteries no man was meant to penetrate; fool or god that he was - my only friend, who led me and went before me, and who in the end passed into terrors which may yet be mine!

Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise. My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Call for the grandest of all earthly spectacles, what is that? It is the sun going to his rest. Call for the grandest of all human sentiments, what is that? It is that man should forget his anger before he lies down to sleep.

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

The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep. (from Never Give a Sucker an Even Break, in response to a man who complained of imsomnia)

Agathon: But all that talk about death being the same as sleep. Socrates: Yes, the difference is that when you're dead and somebody yells, 'Everybody up, it's morning,' it's very hard to find your slippers.

'I'm sleeping like a baby, too. Every two hours, I wake up, screaming.' (Upon hearing that President Bush was 'sleeping like a baby' on the eve of war with Iraq.) [7]

Care-Charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish, and restore the light; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming o'er the joys of night. Sleep, sleep: in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Qui sait si cette autre moitie de la vie ou nous pensons veiller n'est pas un autre sommeil un peu different du premier.

C'etait l'heure ou l'essaim des reves malfaisants Tord sur leurs oreillers les bruns adolescents.

Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over, Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, Sleeping at last.

There is a sort of waking nightmare that sets in sometimes when one has missed a sleep or two, a feeling that comes with extreme fatigue and a new sun, that the quality of the life around has changed. It is a fully articulate conviction that somehow the existence one is then leading is a branch shoot of life and is related to life only as a moving picture or a mirror-that the people, and streets, and houses are only projections from a very dim and chaotic past.

Rest comes not from the quantity but from the quality of sleep.

Turn on your side and bear the day to me Beloved, sceptre-struck, immured In the glass wall of sleep. Slowly Uncloud the borealis of your eye And show your iceberg secrets, your midnight prizes To the green-eyed world and to me.

Paddy and I had scarcely a wink of sleep, for there was a man near us who had some nervous trouble, shell-shock perhaps, which made him cry out 'Pip!' at irregular intervals. It was a loud, startling noise, something like the toot of a small motor-horn. You never knew when it was coming, and it was a sure preventer of sleep. ...he must have kept ten or twenty people awake every night. He was an example of the kind of thing that prevents one from ever getting enough sleep when men are herded as they are in these lodging houses.'

Dreams are like low budget British films in that they're generally badly plotted, packed with gratuitous sex and violence and very sloppily edited. Plus, on average, one person sees them.

Never could I tell, try as I might, what it actually was that I saw; nor could the still face tell, for although it must have seen more than I did, it will never speak again. But always I shall guard against the mocking and insatiate Hypnos, lord of sleep, against the night sky, and against the mad ambitions of knowledge and philosophy.

What, in substance, both the Esquimaux wizards and the Louisiana swamp-priests had chanted to their kindred idols was something very like this: the word-divisions being guessed at from traditional breaks in the phrase as chanted aloud: 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.' ... 'In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.'

But me they'll lash me in hammock, drop me deep. Fathoms down, fathoms down, how I'll dream fast asleep. I feel it stealing now. Sentry, are you there? Just ease this darbies at the wrist, and roll me over fair, I am sleepy, and the oozy weeds about me twist.

I was sleep-deprived, and I misspoke.

Aucun homme ne s'arrache aux douceurs du sommeil matinal pour ecouter un troubadour en veste, une fille seule se reveille a un chant d'amour.

Fly hence, shadows, that do keep, Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep.

Come, blessed Darkness, come and bring thy balm For eyes grown weary of the garish day! Come with thy soft, slow steps, thy garments gray, Thy veiling shadows, bearing in thy palm The poppy-seeds of slumber, deep and calm.

Ooh, their breath is warm And they smell like sleep, And they say they take me home. Like poppies heavy with seed They take me deeper and deeper.

Sleep slunk up like a black panther and sank its kindly fangs into what remained of the Mortdecai brain.

Within my pounding heart which kept itself entirely for him He fell into his sleep beneath the cedars all my love I gave From o'er the fortress walls the wind would his hair against his brow And with its smoothest hand caressed my every sense it would allow.

Sleep is for the inhabitants of Planets only. In another time, Man will sleep and wake continually at once. The greater part of our Body, of our Humanity itself, yet sleeps a deep sleep.

Schlafen ist Verdauen der Sinneseindrucke. Traume sind Exkremente.

If the answer is infinite light, why do we sleep in the dark?

PETE: I had the same bloody trouble about two nights ago. I come in, about half past eleven at night. I come in, I get into bed, you see, feeling quite sleepy. I could feel the lids of me eyes beginning to droop, you see - a bit of droop in the eyes. I was about to drop off when suddenly - tap, tap, tap at the bloody window pane. I looked out. You know who it was?

Happy are they that go to bed with grave music.

To keep our eyes open longer were but to set our Antipodes. The Huntsmen are up in America, and they are already past their first sleep in Persia. But who can be drowsy at that hour which freed us from everlasting sleep? or have slumbering thoughts at that time, when sleep itself must end, and as some conjecture all shall awake again?

I can remember the first time I had to go to sleep. Mom said, 'Steven, time to go to sleep.' I said, 'But I don't know how.' She said, 'It's real easy. Just go down to the end of tired and hang a right.' So I went down to the end of tired, and just out of curiosity I hung a left. My mother was there, and she said 'I thought I told you to go to sleep.'

What outcries pluck me from my naked bed And chill my throbbing heart with trembling fear.

Restless sleep twisted dreams. Moving targets silent screams. Restless city restless street. Restless you restless me.

Most snoring is composed by Beethoven or Wagner, although a few times Wiggs had heard heavy metal rock performed on the somnambulate bassoon.

As a man and woman meet and love forthwith. Perhaps there are moments of awakening, Extreme, fortuitous, personal, in which We more than awaken, sit on the edge of sleep, As on an elevation, and behold The academies like structures in a mist.

I like to consider myself a sleep disorder

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

Warm summer sun, shine kindly here; Warm southern wind, blow softly here; Green sod above, lie light, lie light - Good-night, dear heart, good-night, good-night.

'Six hours sleep are enough for a man, seven for a woman, and eight for a fool.'

'Sure you don't want to go home, and have some sleep? ...ZzZzZzZ.. you know, FUCK that shit man, we fucking gonna rock out to Follow The Reaper!'

Dawn, n. The time when men of reason go to bed. Certain old men prefer to rise at about that time, taking a cold bath and a long walk with an empty stomach, and otherwise mortifying the flesh.

Into a slumber then I fell, When fond imagination Seemed to see, but could not tell Her feature or her fashion.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me.

I know I'm just the weather against your window As you sleep through a winter's dream.

You look like you're ready for bed!

I sleep and I unsleep. On the other side of me, beyond where I lie down, the silence of the house touches infinity. I hear time falling, drop by drop, and no falling drop is heard falling.

Keine geringe Kunst ist schlafen: es thut schon Noth, den ganzen Tag darauf hin zu wachen.

To get out of bed on the wrong side probably means that you had had too much the night before.

Last week I probably slept an average of two hours a night. I couldn't stop thinking. My body was exhausted, and my mind was still going.

One night I was walking in my sleep and Mr. Benny put a vacuum cleaner in my hand. ~ Eddie Anderson (Rochestor)

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.

But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.

Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke.

'Last night I saw you in my dreams/Now I can't wait to go to sleep/And this life is all a dream/So my real life starts when I go to sleep.'

Ceux qui ont apparie notre vie a un songe ont eu de la raison...Nous veillons dormants et veillants dormons.

Six hours sleep for a man, seven for a woman and eight for a fool.

I just can't wake from these scary dreams.

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.

This hypnagogic condition. Attention-faculty diminished so that twilight state obtains; world seen merely in symbolic, archetypal aspect, totally confused with unconcious material.

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.

The broad cloud-driving moon in the clear sky Lifts o'er the firs her shining shield, And in her tranquil light Sleep falls on forest and field. See! sleep hath fallen: the trees are asleep: The night is come. The land is wrapt in sleep.

Were he not gone, The woodchuck could say whether it's like his Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, Or just some human sleep.

It takes the average human seven minutes to go to sleep, but according to Hand's Human Physiology, it takes the same average human fifteen to twenty minutes to wake up. It is as if sleep is a pool from which emerging is more difficult than entering. When the sleeper wakes, he or she comes up by degrees, from deep sleep to light sleep to what is sometimes called 'waking sleep,' a state in which the sleeper can hear sounds and will even respond to questions without being aware of it later...except perhaps as fragments of dreams.

Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee, That she in peace may wake and pity me.