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.
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A nap, my friend, is a brief period of sleep which overtakes superannuated persons when they endeavor to entertain unwelcome visitors or to listen to scientific lectures.
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Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole, to Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, that slid into my soul.
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The city sleeps and the country sleeps, the living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, the old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife; and these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them, and such as it is to be of these more or less I am, and of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
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We are not hypocrites in our sleep.
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All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.
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No matter what time it is, wake me, even if it's in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.
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Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.
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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.
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Sleep hath its own world, and a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, and tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.
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He who sleeps half a day has won half a life.
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