A Quote by Patricia Cornwell

I like to get to bed with a clear head. — © Patricia Cornwell
I like to get to bed with a clear head.
You're like the devil with horns in your head, the only way I'll get you is to get you in bed.
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?
My dad grew up with straight-up no running water. He slept in a twin bed with his two sisters and his mom, like 'Charlie And The Chocolate Factory' style: like, feet at the head, feet at the head alternating. And then I think his dad slept on, like, a bed of newspapers on a floor in their apartment.
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
I don't get out of bed for less than $50 a day. I want to make that clear to America. This is a new age of androgynous supermodels. We don't get out of bed for less than $50 a day.
I'm looking forward to going out at the concert with a clear head, with a clear mind, with a clear spirit and experiencing whatever it is. It's great.
There is nothing like a good three-mile run for me to really clear my head and get my endorphins going. My other go-to is yoga.
Clear Moon' is more... clear I guess! It's more round-sounding and it's slightly gentler. 'Ocean Roar' is more challenging and weird and darker and heavier - the idea was for it to feel like a thick fog laying on your head, versus a clear sky with the moon in it.
My parents would have to put the fire hose on me to get me out of bed, to go to school in the morning. They would use a cattle prod and just shock me, or throw boiling water on me, or fire a gun next to my head, to get me out of bed.
Let me make this clear: my impairment is such that without a wheelchair, I can't do very much for myself. I can't get out of bed. I can't get myself to the toilet. I certainly can't get myself to work.
I just feel like every time I'm on the court I just clear my head, clear my mind.
It's not fun to get out of bed early in the morning. When the alarm goes off, it doesn't sing you a song: it hits you in the head with a baseball bat. So how do you respond to that? Do you crawl underneath your covers and hide? Or do you get up, get aggressive, and attack the day?
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.
I think that's why I coach.. I used to get up early every morning with a clear goal in mind of how fast I was going to be. When I stopped rowing, there was a void in my daily routine. Now I go to bed at night and get up morning with a clear goal in mind of how fast you are going to be.
I like to be completely exhausted when I go to bed, so if I worked out and I had a long day, that's enough for me. Then I get on the bed and oof! So nice.
At Marshall Field in Chicago, I had them take a big bed into the menswear department, one with black sheets. I'd get in bed wearing a nightcap, and my fans would get in bed with me, one at a time, and I'd sign their memorabilia. And then I'd give them a free pint of Ben & Jerry's.
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