Most popular sleep quotes
To sleep is an act of faith.
Sleep is the best meditation.
To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.
Sleep and his twin brother Death.
Sleep, the near relative of death.
Sleep is sweet to the laboring man.
We are not hypocrites in our sleep.
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
Night is the blotting paper for many sorrows.
Sleep is an eight-hour peep show of infantile erotica.
I love sleep because it is both pleasant and safe to use.
I had forgotten what sleep is like—a kingdom all its own.
Sleeplessness is a desert without vegetation or inhabitants.
Sleep is that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.
The amount of sleep required by the average person is five minutes more.
For sleep, riches and health to be truly enjoyed, they must be interrupted.
There never was a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep.
The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest.
Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows not Death, Nor can I dream of thee as dead.
It is better to sleep on things beforehand than to lie awake about them afterward.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that purpose to keep awake all day.
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.
Finish each day before you begin the next, and interpose a solid wall of sleep between the two.
For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.
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.
Of all the things a man may do, sleep probably contributes most to keeping him sane. It puts brackets about each day.
It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.
Oh, to those bereft of hope Sleep is the only blessing left—the last Asylum of the weary, the one sign Of pity from impenetrable heaven.
That we are not much sicker and much madder than we are is due exclusively to that most blessed and blessing of all natural graces, sleep.
Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals. It is a mental torture I find debasing.
Sleep is forgiveness. The night absolves. Darkness wipes the slate clean, not spotless to be sure, but clean enough for another day's chalking.
Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.
God has made sleep to be a sponge by which to rub out fatigue. A man's roots are planted in night, as in a soil, and out of it he comes every day with fresh growth and bloom.
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great natures second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.
And if tonight my soul may find her peace In sleep, and sink in good oblivion, And in the morning wake like a new-opened flower Then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
When every inch of the world is known, sleep may be the only wilderness that we have left. In sleep's preserve, the body repairs itself, talks to itself, leads a separate life we cannot know.
Sleep and waking states are like separate countries with a common border. We cross over twice daily, remembering one world and forgetting the other, inadvertently tracking invisible residues from one into the other.