All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me.
Sleep is harder to reach and thinner, and sleeping is no longer the Drop into the black pit all oblivion until the alarm clock, no, sleep is thin and fitful and full of memories and reminders and the dark is never dark enough.
Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all? This is insomnia.
I am not sleepy at all!
I have insomnia, and it's hard for me to sit still for a long time. My mind is always "tick, tick, tick."
It was daunting at first. I did have insomnia for two weeks.
He gets into the habit of thinking so passionately at night that he begins to be persecuted by insomnia.
I’m not going to bed after all. Somebody around here hath murdered sleep. Good for him.
... As to sleep, you know, I never sleep now. I might be a Watchman, except that I don't get any pay, and he's got nothing on his mind.
Insomnia is a glamorous term for thoughts you forgot to have in the day.
For years now, I've wanted to fall asleep. The sort of slipping off, the giving up, the falling part of sleep. Now sleeping is the last thing I want to do.
Sleep came slower than a frigid woman.
Anticipation is a bad sleeping draught.
You know what it’s like when you’re trying to fall asleep and it only makes you more wide awake?
Some nights I sleep like a baby. Other nights it's, Oh God, I just came up with a bomb shot.
I've never been able to sleep very much, even when I was a kid. I used to hate being forced to lay in bed in the darkness, and just shifting in bed and staring at the shadows.
