A Quote by Bob Seger

Later in the evening when you lie awake in bed with the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head. — © Bob Seger
Later in the evening when you lie awake in bed with the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head.
Never walk near the bed; to a ghost your ankle is your most vulnerable part-once in bed, you're safe; he may lie around under the bed all night, but you're safe as daylight. If you still have doubts pull the blanket over your head.
Share ownership of your ideas. The more people who lie awake in bed thinking about your idea, the better.
I wake up in the morning and I lie in bed, and it's the time I call "the theater of morning." All these thoughts run around in my head, between my ears when I'm waking up. It's not a dream state, but it's not completely awake either. So all these metaphors run around and then I pick one and I get out of bed and I do it. I'm very lucky.
Only soldiers and labouring men can appreciate how glorious it really is to lie late in bed in winter-time. When your life revolves around having to to be at work at seven o'clock in the morning you know everything about that ghastly lep up still half asleep and the rush to put your head under a tap of ice-cold water with the barbarous object of shocking yourself awake.
You should not actually stay in bed for very long awake, because your brain is this remarkably associative device, and it quickly learns that the bed is about being awake. So you should go to another room - a room that's dim. Just read a book - no screens, no phones - and, only when you're sleepy, return to the bed.
But do you ever think of me, when you lie? Lie down in your bed, your bed of lies.
I have sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by and by into our lives. "Jerry, say that my answer was, 'RECALLED TO LIFE.
It's always hard sleeping after an evening game because you have a lot of caffeine for the game and the adrenalin is still going around your body. You go to bed and realise you're still wide awake.
You can lie to your wife or your boss, but you cannot lie to your typewriter. Sooner or later you must reveal your true self in your pages.
I'm not going to lie: I'm awful at mornings. Once I'm awake, it still takes me half an hour to actually get out of bed.
'As you have made your bed, so you must lie on it'; which again is simply a lie. If I have made my bed uncomfortable, please God I will make it again.
Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?
I drag my husband out of bed, hook him up to a coffee to stay awake and make him listen to my plotting and any issues I may be having. I *need* his head-nodding (he's an expert head-nodder).
I don't have a night stand. If I read at night in bed or too close to sleep-time, I lie awake thinking in the dark for hours.
I go to bed is around 11, and I do that for every race. I get good sleep. I don't lie awake for any race. That's my routine.
When I perform and the crowd is cheering, there's a ringing noise in my head. I'm just zoned in, and even though I know there are people watching me, all I hear is this ringing inside of me.
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