A Quote by Elizabeth Kenny
O sleep, O gentle sleep, I thought gratefully, Nature's gentle nurse.
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'O sleep, O gentle sleep,' I thought gratefully, 'Nature's soft nurse!'
O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse.
O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
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.
O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
Sleep, rest of nature, O sleep, most gentle of the divinities, peace of the soul, thou at whose presence care disappears, who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments, and makest them strong again for labour!
Naptime,? said Christian, leading her toward the bed. ?I still need a shower.? ?Sleep first. Shower later.? He pulled back the covers. ?I?ll sleep with you.? ?Sleep or sleep?? she asked dryly, sliding gratefully into bed. ?Real sleep. You need it.? He crawled in beside her, spooning against her and resting his face on her shoulder. ?Of course, afterward, if you want to conduct any official Council business...? ?I swear, if you say ‘Little Dragomirs,? you can sleep in the hall.
Nature is a gentle guide, but not more sweet and gentle than prudent and just.
A death-like sleep,
A gentle wafting to immortal life.
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.
The moment comes when the great nurse, death, takes a human, the child, by the hand and quietly says, "It is time to go home. Night is coming. It is your bedtime, child of earth. Come; you're tired. Lie down at last in the quiet nursery of nature and sleep. Sleep well. The day is gone. Stars shine in the canopy of eternity."
The flowers that sleep by night, opened their gentle eyes and turned them to the day. The light, creation's mind, was everywhere, and all things owned its power.
Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast...
Sleep is perverse as human nature, Sleep is perverse as a legislature, Sleep is as forward as hives or goiters, And where it is least desired, it loiters.
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole.
I don't sleep. I wait. I sleep in cars and on couches. I sleep when I can, but when I can't sleep, I just don't, so I figure there's a higher calling keeping me on point that night.
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