Sleep Quotes - page 96
I found an old baby picture of me... and it was somebody else - not me. It was somebody pink and fat. Who never heard of sick or lonely. Somebody who cried and got fed. And reached up and got held. Slept whenever she wanted to just by closing her eyes. Somebody who mainly just laid there and laughed at the colors waving over, round her head. And chewed on a polka-dot whale. And woke up knowing some new trick nearly every day. Rolled over and drooled on a sheet. Felt your hand pull the quilt back up over me. That's who I started out. And this is who's left.
Marsha Norman
Did you sleep well last night?” asked Glorian.
"Yes, I suppose,” said Dore, "although I was trouble by a strange dream.”
"Oh? Perhaps it was some sort of omen. Tell me of it.”
"Certainly,” said Dore. "I dreamed of a domino.”
"Just one?”
"Yes, just the one. All night. No people or sounds in the dream, just the domino. The five-three.”
"Wonderful!” cried Glorian. "The five-three is a lucky little devil. It presages victory after hardships. It confirms your inner ambition, but counsels you to avoid extremes, to temper pleasure with practicality. Advances in music, art, and drama are indicated. Rely on good manners and good taste. The five-three is a domino of hope and good news.
George Alec Effinger
It is hard to imagine a more stupid or more dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price for being wrong. Know-it-alls in the school system do not lose one dime or one hour's sleep if their bright ideas turn out to be all wrong, or even disastrous, for the child.
Thomas Sowell
At last, in the dead of the night, when the street was very still indeed, Little Dorrit laid the heavy head upon her bosom, and soothed her to sleep. And thus she sat at the gate, as it were alone looking up at the stars, and seeing the clouds pass over them in their wild flight--which was the dance at Little Dorrit's party.
Charles Dickens
I don't remember forms or faces now, but I know the girl was beautiful. I know she was for in the bright moonlight nights, when I start from my sleep, and all is quiet about me, I see, standing still and motionless in one corner of this cell, a slight and wasted figure with long black hair, which streaming down her back, stirs with no earthly wind, and eyes that fix their gaze on me, and never wink or close. . . .
Charles Dickens
