Best 1296 quotes in «bed quotes» category

Relationships have always seemed very mysterious, and therefore worth exploring. I’m single, so it’s still kind of a mystery - a worthwhile mystery, one that I want to be on the scent of. I’m not lonely, and I think that has a lot to do with what’s on my bedside table rather than what’s in my bed.

Remington Tate, I swear to you—I swear—that when I’m able to get up from this stupid bed and run again, you’re always, always, going to be the one thing I’ll run straight to.

Reported as Oscar Wilde's last words on his death bed... This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.

Right now someone out there is struggling and starting to panic because they can't get out of a tempurpedic bed.

Rip Van Winkle, who said, Don't make the bed; I'm just going to the bathroom. Never got a dinner!

Rise early. Write. Disappoint your sons. Read the newspaper. Go to bed early. Success.

Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie. Romeo: In bed asleep while they do dream things true.

Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon. She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow. Hold my hand, he said, and then: why are your putting the sheet over my face?

Routine is really important. However late you went to bed the night before, or however much you had to drink, get up at the same time each day and get on with it.

Religion is still parasitic in the interstices of our knowledge which have not yet been filled. Like bed-bugs in the cracks of walls and furniture, miracles lurk in the lacunae of science. The scientist plasters up these cracks in our knowledge; the more militant Rationalist swats the bugs in the open. Both have their proper sphere and they should realize that they are allies.

Sand. Everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, all over the floor. Grrrrr.

SafeTrack - I keep saying this - is not going to fix Metro. It's a speeded up track work program, compressing three years of already planned work on the track bed into about a year.

Sam: You know what I wish? Cassel: What? Sam: That someone would covert my bed into a robot that would fight other bed robots to the death for me.

Shall we keep our hands in our bosom, or stretch ourselves on our beds of laziness, while all the world about us is hard at work, in pursuing the designs of its creation?

See? This was how he’d gotten me to fall in love with him. At times like this he made me feel like the most treasured woman in the world. “So you don’t remember doing this to me? Naked? In the shower? On the bed? On the floor?” With Matt Damon? Okay, how had the Sarah Silverman video gotten in my head, now of all times?

Sheep. Looting. Cousins." Lucien cursed and got out of bed.

She divorced her husband, y' know. I never knew him, it was before I met Jane. Apparently she came back from work one mornin' an' found her husband in bed with the milkman. With the milkman, honest to God. Well, apparently, from that day forward Jane was a feminist. An' I've noticed, she never takes milk in her tea.

She had acquired some of his gypsy ways, some of his nonchalance, his bohemian indiscipline. She had swung with him into the disorders of strewn clothes, spilled cigarette ashes, slipping into bed all dressed, falling asleep thus, indolence, timelessness...A region of chaos and moonlight. She liked it there.

She has the heart of a child, you know. Yeah, it's in a box beside her bed. - Kaia Skyhawk

She is, above all else, tired; she wants more than anything to return to her bed and her book. The world, this world, feels suddenly stunned and stunted, far from everything.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now 's the day and now 's the hour; See the front o' battle lour.

She had imagined Jace leaping from the bed in astonishment and gasping something like "Egad!" This didn't happen-largely, she suspected, because Jace had seen much stranger things in his life, and also because nobody used the word "Egad!" anymore. His eyes widened, though.

She's cool in bed, as she ought to be, cuz Ethyl's dead.

She licked again, taking her time,even though she didn't need to; her first stroke numbed the bite site. No, this second taste was for her, not him, and there was no lying about that. "I'm starting to feel like a Tootsie Pop, here" he rasped. She couldn't contain a smile. " Yes... how did that old commercial go?" She licked him. "One." She licked him again, and he moaned. "Two." She licked him once more, and his hips came off the bed, "Three.

She wants to learn how to handle a gun. Well, I want George Clooney naked in my bed, but I haven't attempted kidnapping. Yet.

She was an extraordinary woman, and I went to bed that night feeling like I was perhaps more than ordinary myself. This was the effect she had on me.

She was so fat that her bikini is made out of two bed sheets (king-size).

She was made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds.

She writhed between him and the door and he moved his mouth to her ear, whispering hoarsely, "Abbie, I'm going to take you to that bed and make love to you like you never imagined you'd be made love to again.

She wouldn't climb out of the bed for her sister, but she had climbed into a crater. She wouldn't cross a room, but she had crossed a continent.

She stepped out of reach. “Go put on a shirt and get your mind out of bed.” “Impossible with you around.” “Pretend I’m holding a rifle. In fact, pretend I have you in the crosshairs.” Janvier sighed, rubbing at a jaw shadowed by morning stubble. “I love it when you talk dirty.

Should I string her up or strangle her in bed, suffocate that venomous head? Or perhaps I'll just whip her to death. Listen, do me a favor, kill my wife.

Shifting in the hospital bed had blown her closet door wide open.

Sleep is perverse as human nature, Sleep is perverse as legislature.... So people who go to bed to sleep Must count French premiers or sheep, And people who ought to arise from bed Yawn and go back to sleep instead.

Sleeping in a bed -- it is, apparently, of immense importance. Against those who sleep, from choice or necessity, elsewhere society feels righteously hostile. It is not done. It is disorderly, anarchical.

Since you and Crispin are now finished and I have a few hours to kill, how about that shag?” he asked with heavy irony. “Bite me,” I sighed, gathering up the pages. He winked. “Of course. My second-favorite thing to do in bed.

Sleep is a daily reminder from God that we are not God. Once a day God sends us to bed like patients with a sickness. The sickness is a chronic tendency to think we are in control and that our work is indispensable. To cure us of this disease God turns us into helpless sacks of sand once a day.

Sleephackers go to bed with sensors on their wrists and foreheads and maintain detailed electronic sleep diaries, which they often share online. To shift between sleep phases, sleephackers experiment with various diets, room and body temperatures, and kinds of pre-sleep physical exercise.

So I knocked on the door at this bed & Breakfast and a lady stuck her head out of the window and said: 'What do you want', I said, 'I want to stay here'. She said, 'Well stay there' and shut the window.

So, it's not every patient that I see, but I'd say a good 70% to 80% of the patients when they go to bed it's like a stereo is playing at an 11 or 12 and they can't turn it down, at all. So it makes it very hard for their body to down regulate to be able to go to bed at night.

Slumps are like a soft bed. They're easy to get into and hard to get out of.

Sleep is a death, O make me try By sleeping, what it is to die, And as gently lay my head On my grave, as now my bed.

So I've started wearing sweatpants to bed because I really don't need Santa seeing me in my underwear.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed when youve had too much to drink. Oh, it could be so nice to grow old with you, I wanna grow old with you.

So forgive me, love, if I cry in your shower. So forgive me, love, for the salt in your bed. So forgive me, love, if I cry all afternoon.

Some are masters of illusions, some are ministers of trade, all under the same delusion, all their beds unmade.

Some astronauts sleep in sort of beds - compartments that you can open up and crawl into and then close up, almost like a little bedroom.

So maybe it was just as well that my companion was more like Mulder. A coked-out Mulder with a lot of weapons, who knew that the monsters under the bed were real and would gut you.

Some have been to the mountain. I have been to my knees by the side of my bed.

Somebody who never got over the embarrassing fact that he was born in bed with a lady.