Sleeping Quotes

In between waking up from bed in the morning and going back in the evening, let something happen. God will bless that “something” for you.

I had a dream about you. You were being hung. I had a sword in one hand and a stool in the other. I couldn’t decide which one to use, so I stood on the stool and threw myself on the sword. It was the least I could do to protest capital punishment.

I had a dream about you last night. It wasn't until after you sold me the talking car, I realized you were the world’s best ventriloquist.

Walking through a deserted city in the hours before dawn is sobering way beyond the undoing of the effects of alcohol. Every thing is familiar, and everything is strange. It's as if you are the only survivor of some mysterious calamity which has emptied the place of its population, and yet you know that behind the shuttered and curtained windows people lie sleeping in their tens of thousands, and all their joys and disasters lie sleeping too. It makes you think of your own life, usually suspended at that hour, and how you are passing through it as if in a dream. Reality seems very unreal.

I had a dream about you last night.. You were balancing ten tiny footballs on your nose while dancing with a turquoise unicorn.

Some experiences are so wonderful, we are like those who dreamed experiencing it. Yet some are beyond amazing when compared to our best experiences we are as though we had been sleeping all the while.

The process of dying is falling asleep. The process of death is waking up.

I’m awake and I can’t sleep. The more I’m awake, the more I see, and the harder to sleep.

I had a dream about you. You were an escalator, and I was a flight of stairs. You thought I was a Luddite, and I thought I was as ostrich, because I hadn’t figured out how to put the fly in flight. One day you broke down, and then you saw that you and I weren’t so different after all.

I had a dream about you. We installed Dr. Robert Jarvik’s artificial heart in a mannequin and brought it to life, only to later kill it because a creature that’s all fake heart and no brain is what’s commonly called a “politician,” and must be destroyed.

I had a dream about you last night. We were plug sockets in the bedroom. We saw only a short part of their day, but we knew everything of it.

I had a dream about you last night. The best day of my life was when I taught you how to juggle, but the best day of yours was when you taught someone else.

Don't consider my kindness as my weakness, the beast in me is sleeping not dead.

I make love with a focus and intensity that most people reserve for sleep.

Getting up early and feeling awake was the one skill he had never truly perfected - he got up, of course, but it never felt natural.

Nothing happened today. I slept. While asleep I dreamed that I was sleeping.

Who worries for dying? If I close my eyes tonight, I will either dream, or not, or my eyes will open and I will be here again. And if none of those happen, and I do not wake? Who worries for dying?

Some memories should be dead as they are like living corpse in mortal's bed

The best was created without sleeping and drinking coca-cola. For what am I talking?For the Future of the computers check out the beginning then check out the "now".

The SleepingI have imagined all this:In 1940 my parents were in loveAnd living in the loft on West 10thAbove Mark Rothko who painted cabbage rosesOn their bedroom walls the night they got married.I can guess why he did it.My mother’s hair was the color of yellow applesAnd she wore a velvet hat with her pajamas.I was not born yet. I was remote as starlight.It is hard for me to imagine thatMy parents made love in a roomful of rosesAnd I wasn’t there.But now I am. My mother is blushing.This is the wonderful thing about art.It can bring back the dead. It can wake the sleepingAs it might have late that nightWhen my father and mother made love above RothkoWho lay in the dark thinking Roses, Roses, Roses.

I had a dream about you last night... I was a brick and you were a blanket. Damn that improbability drive.

She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.

We do not know what happens when we sleep.