The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
I can think. I can sleep. I can move. I can ride my bike. I can dream.
True love, to me, is when she's the first thought that goes through your head when you wake up and the last thought that goes through your head before you go to sleep.
Frankly, I was horrified by life, at what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed. So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.
My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight.Her hands asleep beside her.Her hair draped on the lawnlike a mantle of cloth.I give her my troth, for our love is wholeI sing her beauty in my soul
Some people talk in their sleep. Lecturers talk while other people sleep.
A little work, a little sleep, a little love and it's all over.
You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.
Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.
Come Sleep! Oh 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.
Those who have compared our life to a dream were right.... We sleeping wake, and waking sleep.
My father said there were two kinds of people in the world: givers and takers. The takers may eat better, but the givers sleep better.
We need time to defuse, to contemplate. Just as in sleep our brains relax and give us dreams, so at some time in the day we need to disconnect, reconnect, and look around us.
In everyone there sleeps. A sense of life lived according to love. To some it means the difference they could make. By loving others, but across most it sweeps. As all they might have done had they been loved. That nothing cures.
I have heard all that you have had to say to me on your problems.You ask me what to do about them.It is my view that your real problem is that you are a member of the human race.Face that one first.
On their sofas of spice and feathers, the concubines also slept fretfully. In those days the Earth was still flat, and people dreamed often of falling over edges.
Making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two separate passions, not merely different but opposite. Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman).
I want to see beauty. In the ugly, in the sink, in the suffering, in the daily, in all the days before I die, the moments before I sleep.
The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision. Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone??
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.
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