Eight hours daily labour is enough for any human being, and under proper arrangements sufficient to afford an ample supply of food, raiment and shelter, or the necessaries and comforts of life, and for the remainder of his time, every person is entitled to education, recreation and sleep.
If I can send one person home after a performance feeling better than when they arrived, then I've done my job, and I sleep good at night.
If a young man gets married, and starts a family and spends the rest of his life working at a soul-destroying job, he is held up as an example of virtue and responsibility. The other type of man, living only for himself, working only for himself, doing first one thing and then another simply because he enjoys it and because he has to keep only himself, sleeping where and when he wants, and facing woman when he meets her on equal terms and not as one of a million slaves, is rejected by society. The free, unshackled man has no place in its midst.
Sleep is simply a chemical change in our brain and body (melatonin) - It?s not a place we go, it is a state of being that we fall into.
Dogs are born knowing exactly what they want to do: eat, scratch, roll in disgusting stuff, sniff and squabble with other dogs, roam, sleep, have sex. Little of this is what we want them to do, of course. We ask them to sit, stay, smell peasant, practice abstinence, and be accommodating.
I derive no pleasure from prosecuting a man, even though I know he's guilty; do you think I could sleep at night or look at myself in the mirror in the morning if I hounded an innocent man?
As long as we’ve got somewhere to sleep, a bowl of cereal, and a coloring book we’ll be fine.
Making love to a Negro isn't frightening; sleeping with him is. Sleep is complete surrender. It's more than nude; it's naked. Anything can happen during the night, when reason sleeps.
Who can sleep on the night that God became man?
Good tired, ironically enough, can be a day that you lost. But you won’t even have to tell yourself, because you knew you fought your battles, you chased your dreams, you lived your days. And when you hit the hay at night, you settle easy, you sleep the sleep of the just, and you can say, “Take me away.
Far too often animals are put to sleep when they could be saved through proper care and nursing.
All the honors of men in a state of sleep are as nothing.
It's so important to listen to music, to listen again and again. Eat, sleep and drink music.
It’s terrible to lie in chains, To rot in dungeon deep, But it’s still worse, when you are free To sleep, and sleep, and sleep.
Similarly, when you lose yourconsciousness, when you go to sleep at night or when you're anesthetized, youdon't really think that you're really going to be losing your mind.
There's a difference, you know, between faith and playing make-believe. One will make you grow. The other one will make you sleep.
There's some idea there, and the power of it comes from the fact that most of the time you'll never be able to answer what it is. It's just there. It's just a magic moment that you can feel in your gut that it's there, and you're willing to go there and sleep there and go through the hardship and fight for it. Once you start answering it too clearly then the magic is gone.
One time when I was visiting The Vatican I got the Pope really drunk, and then while he was sleeping I put his hand in the holy water.
The man who uses intelligence with respect to his diet, his sleeping habits and who exercises properly, is beyond any question of doubt taking the very best preventive medicines provided so freely and abundantly by nature
Tonight the American flag floats from yonder hill or Molly Stark sleeps a widow.
I write because I can’t sleep.
Whenever the competition is sleeping is when I shine.
With the broad and powerful swing of the hand which Zola in The Earth gave to his ploughman, L'Auto, journal of ideas and action, is going to fling across France today those reckless and uncouth sowers of energy who are the great professional riders of the world... From Paris to the blue waves of the Mediterranean, from Marseille to Bordeaux, passing along the roseate and dreaming roads sleeping under the sun, across the calm of the fields of the Vendée, following the Loire, which flows on still and silent, our men are going to race madly, unflaggingly.
I'm living with two guys. I'm living with a slob and a guy who sleeps all day.
Human identity is fundamentally an illusion; it’s an evolutionary overhang which lets us function as coherent self-aware animals. But, on a deep level, we have no real evidence that when we wake up we’re the same person who went to sleep.
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