So, when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns; And 't is a poor relief we gain To change the place, but keep the pain.
I don't sleep well when I'm traveling, so there's nothing I like more than getting in my own bed.
I was 13 when I had my first bout of insomnia. My family was in Reykjavik, Iceland, for the summer, and day never really became night.
I'll have to have a room of my own. Nobody could sleep with Dick. He wakes up during the night, switches on the lights, speaks into his tape recorder.
I don't sleep very well when I travel. And as a result, I tend to be awake in cities when everyone else is asleep.
It was that sort of sleep in which you wake every hour and think to yourself that you have not been sleeping at all; you can remember dreams that are like reflections, daytime thinking slightly warped.
I have always had disrupted, broken sleep.
I'll get into a pattern where I start sleeping only between 12 and 3.30, and go for weeks like that.
Five hours' New York jet lag and Cayce Pollard wakes in Camden Town to the dire and ever-circling wolves of disrupted circadian rhythm.
