Edmund Burke Quotes

When I do eventually drop, I pray to God that it'll happen in one of three ways. Firstly, on stage or leaving the stage, then secondly in my sleep. And the third way? You'll have to figure that out for yourself!

She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.

There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground.

Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Here grow the wallflower and the violet. The squirrel will come and sit upon your knee, the logcock will wake you in the morning. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill. Of all the upness accessible to mortals, there is no upness comparable to the mountains.

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes and roofs of villages, on woodland crests and their aerial neighborhoods of nests deserted, on the curtained window-panes of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes and harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests.

There is nowhere in the world where sleep is so deep as in the libraries of the House of Commons.

Sleep just a while longer, that's it, where else can you go where you neither suffer nor cause suffering.

Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves the feet of angels bright; unseen they pour blessing, and joy without ceasing, on each bud and blossom, and each sleeping bosom.

So I take a little sleeping pill, pop it and realize nothing's happening - but something else was happening.

When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word.

We still need to secure our southern border. The other thing I would say is we need to secure who visits us in the country.

Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.

A sleeping child gives me the impression of a traveler in a very far country.

Texas is my mind's country, that place I most want to understand and record and preserve. Four generations of my people sleep in its soil; I have children there, and a grandson; the dead past and the living future tie me to it.

I'd like to die like my old dad, peacefully in his sleep, not screaming like his passengers.

Sleep would be so welcome. A warm blanket of black to erase everything else. Sleep without dreams.

Way across the country where the hillside mountains glide, the dynamo of your smile caressed the barefoot virgin child.

I don't go into hysterics or anything, but I look around for something to smash it with. I used to live out in the country when I first moved here, and there were a lot of centipedes in the house, and I set out to kill them all. A program of genocide. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and I'd know there's a centipede in this room. And there always was. And I couldn't go to sleep until I killed it.

And soon all of us will sleep under the earth, we who never let each other sleep above it.

It is the Germans who are responsible for the fact that I became a fabricator of arms. If not for them, I would have constructed agricultural machines. (...) If someone asks me how I can sleep at night knowing that my arms have killed millions of people, I respond that I have no problem sleeping, my conscience is clean. I constructed arms to defend my country.

One of the most singular facts about the unwritten history of this country is the consummate ability with which Southern influence, Southern ideas and Southern ideals, have from the very beginning even up to the present day, dictated to and domineered over the brain and sinew of this nation.

Here lies Dobby, a free elf.