Best 4943 quotes in «sleep quotes» category

Every season is likeable, and wet days and fine, red wine and white, company and solitude. Even sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life, can be full of dreams; and the most common actions──a walk, a talk, solitude in one’s own orchard──can be enhanced and lit up by the association of the mind. Beauty is everywhere, and beauty is only two finger’s-breadth from goodness.

Every single night our soul is taken, and every single night the Angel asks before bringing it back, "Ya Allah what about this one?" "Do You want to send it back?" Do You want to pull the plug or should we keep the Ruh (soul)?" And every night Allah gives permission to the Angel to let us live one more time."

Everything drops away, comes to be unimportant in the dark. It's like sleep almost. A freedom from self, from ugliness.

Everything in our lives has the potential to wake us up or put us to sleep. Allowing it to awaken us is up to us.

Everything in the film [Tickling], which was vetted by lawyers, is perfectly legal. I'm not losing any sleep over what I did.

Everything is blurred on what's right and what's wrong ... Sin becomes fine. Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men. Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers - they won't inherit the kingdom of God.

Everything is your fault. You made me fall in love with you, and now I'm so upset I can't think or sleep or eat.

Every thought, every word, and every action that adds to the positive and the wholesome is a contribution to peace. Each and every one of us is capable of making such a contribution. Let us join hands to try to create a peaceful world where we can sleep in security and wake in happiness.

Every time I hit the ball on the wall I uses to pretend I was there (Wimbledon). When I went to sleep I used to pretend I was there.

Everything you do, you'll do better with a good night's sleep.

Every time we go to sleep, it's a rehearsal of the day when our eyes will ultimately close and we wake up on the side of eternity.

Every time you come in from cheating on someone, they'll just whip out the most adorable term of endearment. Like, they'll wake up, bright and early, sleep in their eyes and say: "Hey, perfect.

Every time I wake up I have this huge dreadlock in the back, and I don't know why. It's not like I sleep like a maniac or anything. It gets knots out really easy, and it's handy.

Excuses are the cradle ... that Satan rocks men off to sleep in.

Extensions is you suddenly have long hair when you have short hair, and you can sleep with it and you have it forever, as long as you want to.

Fading light means more than just the end of another day. Night is when terrible things emerge from their sleep and seek soft flesh and hot blood.

Facts quite often, I fear to confess, like lawyers, put me to sleep at noon. Not theories, however. Theories are invigorating and tonic. Give me an ounce of fact and I will produce you a ton of theory by tea this afternoon. That is, after all, my job.

Fairly apolitical. Kind of aspiring to participate in life. I'm 18-19 years old. Wanting to dive into the world and finding the world opening for me in ways that were unimaginable. I didn't sleep for the whole first year at university because it was too much going on. Too many films to see, too many concerts to go to.

Faith is the backbone of the social and the foundation of the commercial fabric; remove faith between man and man, and society and commerce fall to pieces. There is not a happy home on earth but stands on faith; our heads are pillowed on it, we sleep at night in its arms with greater security for the safety of our lives, peace, and prosperity than bolts and bars can give.

Far too often animals are put to sleep when they could be saved through proper care and nursing.

Fear is an interesting energy that we all have to face. Some people step up and aren't afraid but still come up short. And some would rather cop out: "My shoulder hurts" or "I didn't give it my all." They can sleep at night.

Fear is concealed in smiles and flashing teeth. 'Please say you still love me,' the kings and queens are really saying. And, when they fare badly, they return to their palaces and sleep fitfully.

Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day. The housewife wears herself out marking time: she makes nothing, simply perpetuates the present … Eating, sleeping, cleaning – the years no longer rise up towards heaven, they lie spread out ahead, grey and identical. The battle against dust and dirt is never won.

Fifty percent of people want to sleep with me, and the other 50 percent want to kill me.

Fig tree, how long it's been full meaning for me, the way you almost entirely omit to flower and into the seasonably-resolute fruit uncelebratedly thrust your purest secret. Like the tube of a fountain, your bent bough drives the sap downwards and up: and it leaps from its sleep, scarce waking, into the joy of its sweetest achievement.

Finally one arrives at this: the state of sleep has an ambiguous function; in sleep, the lack of contact with the culture brings out the worst and also the best in us.

First thing in the morning, we're really tired, and we look at each other and we wonder, 'Are we ever going to get sleep?' And yet, it doesn't matter if you don't get sleep. It's an honor to take care of them.

Finish each day before you begin the next, and interpose a solid wall of sleep between the two. This you cannot do without temperance.

First, I blow a hole in your face; then I go back inside, and sleep like a baby... I guarantee you.

Find what is it that never sleeps and never wakes, and whose pale reflection is our sense of 'I'

First I wanted to be a veterinarian. And then I realized you had to give them shots to put them to sleep, so I decided I'd just buy a bunch of animals and have them in my house instead.

Flying is my favorite time in the world. When I'm sitting in a plane, it's amazing because it's quiet and there's no cell phones and no one to talk to you. It's my favorite time. I read all my scripts. I catch up on my movies. I sleep. It's the best. There's no one telling you, "Time to go!

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.

For a person that's on tour, the environment is difficult. I don't want to come off sounding like, "Oh, it's so hard!," but it gets tough, after awhile. You need to take care of yourself. You need to sleep and you need to eat. Those things are hard to keep on any kind of routine.

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.

For Drake is no longer in his hammock, children, nor is Arthur somewhere sleeping, and you may not lie idly expecting the second coming of anybody now, because the world is yours and it is up to you.

Forget romantic fiction, a survey has found that most women would rather read a good book than go shopping, have sex, or sleep.

For five days, I had no sleep. None. I did not sleep. And the last day, the reason I lasted, I drank 20 Red Bulls, about 20 cups of coffee. I could not function.

For far too many people in the world, the vicious cycle of financial deprivation also feeds into the vicious cycle of sleep deprivation. If you're working two or three jobs and struggling to make ends meet, "get more sleep" is probably not going to be near the top of your priorities list.

Forget not bees in winter, though they sleep.

For God is wholly present in all creation, in every corner, he is behind you and before you. Do you think he is sleeping on a pillow in heaven? He is watching over you and protecting you.

For I had come back, and I dreamed once more in the cool air of the Highlands. And the voice of my dream still echoed through ears and heart, repeated with the sound of Brianna's sleeping breath. "You are mine," it had said. "Mine. And I will not let you go.

For many years I wrote nothing but "I will not sleep with Steve Almond" over and over again, page after page à la Jack Torrance in The Shining. Finally, hundreds of psychotherapy sessions and an intense shaman-guided DMT sweat lodge experience led to a breakthrough, and I was able to write about other people I would not sleep with, and also about people I would.

For mental and emotional health, quiet time is very important to me. I need a point in every day that I disconnect from all electronics and reconnect to my center. I pray and meditate. I drink a ton of water and believe in a good night's sleep.

For me, self-love is like: Am I sleeping enough? Eating well? Not: Am I eating well to be able to fit into my skinny jeans? But: Am I eating well to be healthy and strong? And to acknowledge the good, because there is always a lot of good.

For me, the creative process, first of all, requires a good nine hours of sleep a night. Second, it must not be pushed by the need to produce practical applications.

For me, work is so satisfying and it's giving me so much, it's nurturing me so much, that I think it sort of makes up for the sleep depravation.

For me, writing something down was the only road out...I hated childhood, and spent it sitting behind a book waiting for adulthood to arrive. When I ran out of books I made up my own. At night, when I couldn't sleep, I made up stories in the dark.

For my boyhood's friend hath fallen, the pillar of my trust, The true, the wise, the beautiful, is sleeping in the dust.

For she belike hath drunken deep Of all the blessedness of sleep.