Let the weary at length possess quiet rest.
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
There,” she said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.
Sleep ... peace of the soul, who puttest care to flight.
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
One slumber finds another.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Sleep, ignorant of pain, sleep, ignorant of grief, may you come to us blowing softly, kindly, kindly come king.
She had had sweet dreams, which possibly arose from the fact that her little bed was very white.
Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.
Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole, to Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, that slid into my soul.
In bed my real love has always been the sleep that rescued me by allowing me to dream.
Sleep is sweet to the labouring man.
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.
Sleep my friend, and you will see that dream is my reality.
What a magical thing is the bed, and what a vulnerable, innocent creature is the sleeping human - the human who never looks more truthful or pitiful or benign; the curled-up, childlike dreaming soul who has for a few hours become an angel adrift.
It is a delicious moment, certainly, that of being well nestled in bed, and feeling that you shall drop gently to sleep. The good is to come, not past; the limbs have just been tired enough to render the remaining in one posture delightful; the labour of the day is gone
All I know is that so long I am asleep I am rid of all fears and hopes and toils and glory, and long live the man who invented sleep, the cloak that covers all human thirst.
wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Blessings on him, who invented sleep.
'O sleep, O gentle sleep,' I thought gratefully, 'Nature's soft nurse!'
For sleep, riches and health to be truly enjoyed and gratefully appreciated, they must be interrupted so the person can see that not having them is not as good as having them.
To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man.
Remember that almost everything looks better after a good night's sleep.
