Best 246 quotes in «insomnia quotes» category

There is between sleep and us something like a pact, a treaty with no secret clauses, and according to this convention it is agreed that, far from being a dangerous, bewitching force, sleep will become domesticated and serve as an instrument of our power to act. We surrender to sleep, but in the way that the master entrusts himself to the slave who serves him.

There are some patients who just have insomnia and they've had it since they were a kid and we don't quite know why. So when we look at the cause, we definitely want to treat whatever else is going on, but insomnia often because it becomes its own diagnosis and that requires its own treatment.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest.

There is nowhere in the world where sleep is so deep as in the libraries of the House of Commons.

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.

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

There is nothing so entirely desirable in all the world as a few hours oblivion.

The worst thing in the world is to be bland.

The Sixth Sense is not a good white film. Insomnia is not a good white film. They're just good films. So why we can't we have good films that happen to have black people, or Asian, or Latino, or any other minority group in them?

TZETZE (or TSETSE) FLY, n. An African insect ("Glossina morsitans") whose bite is commonly regarded as nature's most efficacious remedy for insomnia, though some patients prefer that of the American novelist ("Mendax interminabilis").

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

Throughout Asia and Europe, pearls were traditionally believed to ease a range of conditions, including eye diseases, fever, insomnia, 'female complaints', dysentery, whooping cough, measles, loss of virility, and bed-wetting ... Though nobody seems to advertise the potential for pearls to cure bed-wetting anymore.

War is a way of shattering to pieces... materials which might otherwise be used to make the masses too comfortable and... too intelligent.

Unfortunately, I suffer from insomnia, so my bedtime is as soon as I start to feel the least bit sleepy.

We term sleep a death by which we may be literally said to die daily; in fine, so like death, I dare not trust it without my prayers.

We try not using medications initially, and we use something called behavioral therapy for insomnia. This changes behaviors people do in bed, none of the tossing and turning.

Well, the actual function of the brain, not so sure yet. There's a lot of different theories about it, but when you talk about psychologically in your brain, a lot of people with insomnia, though not all, report that they can't turn their minds off.

We've looked at sleep diaries of patients with insomnia, and they'll say that they don't sleep for one or two days. And the body actually has a natural function, after about the third day to start catching up and you get a little bit more sleep the third night. And that's usually what I tell my patients.

What strangely enchanted tunes gush forth during those sleepless nights!

What is that one crucifixion compared to the daily kind any insomniac endures?

All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me. I loathe Somnus, that black-masked headsman binding me to the block; and if in the course of years I have got so used to my nightly ordeal as almost to swagger while the familiar axe is coming out of its great velvet-lined case, initially I had no such comfort or defense: I had nothing - save a door left slightly ajar into Mademoiselle's room. Its vertical line of meek light was something I could cling to, since in absolute darkness my head would swim, just as the soul dissolves in the blackness of sleep.

When they [people with insomnia] start worrying about not sleeping, I'll say, "Say the mantra to myself; if I don't sleep tonight, I'll likely sleep tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then definitely the third" because our body has a way of naturally catching up.

When you're gripped by anxiety, worry, insomnia, or panic, make yourself shiver, quiver, tremble, and shudder. It seems silly, but it really works.

Whoever eats anything at a wedding luncheon? They make the food out of papier mache. My salad had been used four or five times this week.

A fickle lover, sleep takes us as it will, when it wants, and how. Sensing her desperate need, however, it draws Corrie deeply into its embrace, somewhere between her tears and terror.

When I have my moments of insomnia, youll find me on style.com.

When I want to go to sleep, I must first get a whole menagerie of voices to shut up. You wouldn't believe what a racket they make in my room.

Yeah. And Savitar predates him. He has presided over this council since the very beginning, and notice, Savitar looks about thirty. We don’t know what he is, but he ain’t one of us and he ain’t human. And trust me, you don’t want to mess with him. (Paris) Thank you for that highly unamusing summation. Next time I have insomnia, I know who to call. In the meantime, little lioness who would probably like to live another year, don’t interrupt me again. I don’t like it and I tend to kill the things I don’t like. (Savitar)

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

After a night of insomnia the body gets weaker, Becomes dear but no one’s — not even your own.

Alarm clocks unset, their taunts silent. Crystals flashing dire red, as if to warn of seconds that dwell, of years that fleet.

All I want is this night to end, But this insomnia keeps me awake Till the sunlight shines on my bed and the thoughts die in my head.

All she really wanted to do was sleep, but it seemed her awareness level was operating at peak efficiency, for some reason.

Alone with thoughts of what should have long been forgotten, I let myself be carried away into the silent screams of delirium.

A long boozy dinner in the East Village with people you need to impress. After dinner, more drinks down the street. After those drinks, more drinks at your hotel's rooftop bar. After that, hours on the sofa in your room staring at CNN, shaking, afraid to go to sleep because it will lead to waking up.

Astray from a deep sleep chronic as I write by phonics, like insomnia I will always live the onyx night for revealing, and, upon it, still I'll steal the bright light of day right away just to keep building at speeds hypersonic.

And so, now, it is almost midnight of the first day, and I have broken my resolution to go to bed early - postponing sleep, and thereby the inevitable waking up in tomorrow. Another device of escape.

An intensely gripping narrative...expertly crafted and totally addictive...a must read!

As an artist suffering from insomnia and working from my apartment, I had an artistic freedom to explore and create awesome stuff. I wore a robe and slippers as my work dress code. These are the days when creativity is my best imaginary friend. And I was crazy enough to create what people would call masterpieces.

A man who, night after night, falls like a lump of lead upon his bed, and ceases to live until the moment when he wakes and rises, will such a man ever dream of making, I do not say great discoveries, but even minute observations upon sleep? He barely knows that he does sleep. A little insomnia is not without its value in making us appreciate sleep, in throwing a ray of light upon that darkness. A memory without fault is not a very powerful incentive to studying the phenomena of memory.

And that night he couldn't sleep, but lay looking out at the light June night which was full of lonely whisperings and rustlings and the pattering of feet. The air was sweet with the smell of flowers.

From insomnia and as a result of the intense struggle against mounting weakness, something strange is happening to me. In the midst of a lecture, tears suddenly choke me, my eyes begin to itch, and I feel a passionate, hysterical desire to stretch my arms out and complain loudly. I want to cry in a loud voice that fate has sentenced me, a famous man, to capital punishment, and that in six months or so another man will be master of this auditorium. I want to cry out that I've been poisoned; new thoughts such as I have never known before have poisoned the last days of my life and go on stinging my brain like mosquitoes. And at such times my situation seems so terrible that I want all my listeners to be horrified, to jump up from their seats and, in panic fear, rush for the exit with a desperate cry. It is not easy to live through such moments.

Black as--the centre of an eye, the centre, a blackness that sucks at light. I love your vigilance Night, first mother of songs, give me the voice to sing of you in those fingers lies the bridle of the four winds. Crying out, offering words of homage to you, I am only a shell where the ocean is still sounding. But I have looked too long into human eyes. Reduce me now to ashes--Night, like a black sun.

Both sleep and insomnolency, when immoderate, are bad.

Don't start me talking I could talk all night My mind goes sleepwalking While I'm putting the world to right.

Every man’s insomnia is as different from his neighbor’s as are their daytime hopes and aspirations.

Finally, as the sky began to grow light in the morning, I’d feel that I might be drifting off. But that wasn’t sleep. My fingertips were just barely brushing against the outermost edge of sleep. And all the while, my mind was awake. I would feel a hint of drowsiness, but my mind was there, in its own room, on the other side of a transparent wall, watching me. My physical self was drifting through the feeble morning light, and all the while it could feel my mind staring, breathing, close beside it. I was both a body on the verge of sleep and a mind determined to stay awake. The incomplete drowsiness would continue on and off all day. My head was always foggy. I couldn’t get an accurate fix on the things around me—their distance or mass or texture. The drowsiness would overtake me at regular, wavelike intervals: on the subway, in the classroom, at the diner table. My mind would slip away from my body. The world would sway soundlessly. I would drop things. My pencil or my purse or my fork would clatter to the floor. All I wanted was to throw myself down and sleep. But I couldn’t. The wakefulness was always there beside me. I could feel its chilling shadow. It was the shadow of myself. Weird, I would think as the drowsiness overtook me, I’m in my own shadow. I would walk and eat and talk to people inside my drowsiness. And the strangest thing was that no one noticed. I lost fifteen pounds that month, and no one noticed. No one in my family, not one of my friends or classmates, realized that I was going through life asleep. It was literally true: I was going through life asleep. My body had no more feeling than a drowned corpse. My very existence, my life in the world, seemed like a hallucination. A strong wind would make me think that my body was about to be blown to the end of the earth, to some land I had never seen or heard of, where my mind and body would separate forever. Hold tight, I would tell myself, but there was nothing for me to hold on to.

For the record, while it's very charming that you keep trying to protect me, I would like to remind you that I actually know how to defend myself." He grimaced. "I know. It's just... instinct." "Well, stop it." He held his hands up. "Won't happen again." He hesitated. I mean, unless I'm pretty sure you're about to die, then I'm absolutely going to rescue you, whether you like it or not.

From the tattered edges of an exhausted mind, inspiration blooms... mental filters disintegrate and walls crumble, as the ocean of creativity washes over everything.

Between the midnight and the morning: on a given day, that's the hardest stretch of time to fill.