A Quote by Hale Irwin
I don't sleep well. I rehash everything in bed. The mind's still working.
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When I got into my early 20s, I was going to bed one nightI was still drinking, still using drugs, and probably was drunk or high or both when I just picked up the Bible and started reading to go to sleep. I was amazed at how well I slept, but even beyond that, the next day, there was this peace of mind that was still there that I wasnt used to.
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.
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.
Time for bed.” I held my fist out. One by one, my flock stacked theirs on top, and then we headed up into the trees to sleep the sleep of the innocent. Well, okay, maybe not so innocent. But the sleep of the much less guilty than others, for sure.
I sleep well at night. I have a nice comfy bed. I have awesome friends. I sleep well at night.
Better to sleep in an uncomfortable bed free, than sleep in a comfortable bed unfree.
Sleep would be so welcome. A warm blanket of black to erase everything else. Sleep without dreams. I've heard people talk about the sleep of the dead. Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that's what it's like, I wouldn't mind. If that's what dying is like, I wouldn't mind that at all.
My secret is I cannot go to bed, I cannot sleep, if my bed is not made before I go to bed. I can leave it unmade in the morning, but I have to remake it before I get into it to sleep.
I used to sleep on the floor next to the bed, because I believed that I didn't even deserve a bed to sleep in. And then, one morning, a cockroach crawled onto my leg. I looked at it, and suddenly I awoke from a kind of hypnotic trance in which I had been all my life.
So when you go to sleep at night, if you're someone who hasn't had any sleep deprivation, you have a very normal sleep pattern, what we tend to see is that, in adults, they go to bed and they start off by going into the deeper stages sleep.
I need to figure out how to sleep better. Most of my binge watching is after midnight. Most of my baking is after ten. I'm really working on trying to sleep more. No devices in my bed, get into a routine. I've started doing yoga every night.
I'm not one of those people who sits at dinner on their iPhone all night. I'm either working or I'm not. I've gone down that path where you sleep with your phone beside the bed and send an email just before you put your head down and check everything again when you wake up, and I don't like it.
The truly still mind, with which you were born, is the mind that moves freely. Without ignoring anything, it reacts wholeheartedly to everything it encounters, to everything on which it reflects. And yet, for all that, it is the mind that is never seized by anything, but is always ready to react on the spot to whatever it encounters next. The mind that is still is the mind that never forfeits its freedom and is able to constantly keep rolling androlling and rolling.
I sleep for about four hours a night, or day really. I go to bed at, like, 9 A.M., sleep for four hours, then get up and start the day again. I don't mind if that's not healthy.
I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house- garbage truck in the alley, rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, pushing away dreams, refusing, refusing. Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion. [...] It is afternoon, it is night, it is morning. Everything is reduced to this bed, this endless slumber that makes the days into one day, makes time stop, stretches and compacts time until it is meaningless.
two people can sleep in the same bed and still be alone when they close their eyes
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