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Sleeplessness Quotes

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Sleeplessness Quotes

“The traditional techniques used in getting sleep aren’t much effective any longer and our sleep techniques need to evolve as rapidly as our life style has, in order to cope with it.”

“The Sleep Problem today is not as much about being able to sleep for 7 hours; it is more about being able to sleep when you are ready to.”

“Let’s imagine a running washing machine. Let’s imagine the dirty clothes in the machine and how the liquid detergent is getting the dirt out of clothes and draining it to the waste outlet. Now imagine brain surrounded by a large pool of cleaning fluid called CSF (cerebrospinal fluid). Imagine CSF pulling the wastes from inside the brain and draining it into the blood, which routes it to the waste outlets. CSF clears waste many times faster in sleeping brain than in the waking brain.”

“Tonight is going to be a big night, like any other night, because certain 10 million Americans will not be able to sleep well tonight.”

“The Sacking of Grief by Stewart Stafford Thou speaketh of grief as a funeral cowl lashed, When 'tis a thorny, haunting cuckoo's nest smashed, I wouldst cast it off, fain if choice be mine, And not necessity's wickedness stretched supine. Peace's changeling to restless beds doth creep, In conjoined prayer to restoreth salvation sleep. To crawleth awake in dawn's incessant weight, Can I tame this sleepless lion and walk it straight? I confesseth sins, but the blemish remains, Call it regret that stalks these guiltless brains, Would a surgeon's blade cut me free of it? And I in luscious orchards, the solaced fruits bit. O, in slumbering dusk the leonine roar doth cease, And the pathway home heralds sweet release. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“In the night, in the utter silence of the nights among those little houses where old people live, she felt him leave the bed and in the pitch-black reach his dressing gown and leave the room. She let him go. How it troubled her, all this. Not much to ask, peace of mind at nights and a bit of ordinary cheerfulness in the day, some conversation, something to laugh about and doing nobody any harm. And not all this. A slit of light came on under the bedroom door.”

“So quiet that house was in the night, so quiet all the other little homes around it were that held the elderly in them and the old alone or still in couples sleeping early, waking, lying awake and thinking about the past. So much past every night in the silence settling over those houses that all looked much the same on a hillside creeping up against the rock and gorse and tipping down to the river where it widened, widened and ended in the sea.”

“Life isn’t in our brain // It flows through our veins. Just a little cut to drain out the galaxies that keep me up tonight. Just a little cut and all this goes away. Just a little cut and no more thoughts. No memories. No pain. I mean screw nostalgia. I don’t want it. Take it back!”

“There was something in her eyes! Her eyes were expressive and from the first day that they met, they spoke to him a million things! He could know which night she had cried, which night she had slept peacefully and which night of hers had been spent in complete sleeplessness.”

“Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep but it's not so bad I don't worry and I don't weep. In fact I'm glad. Because I get up off my pillow and I flip on the light. I get down and get hip in the still of the night I stretch and I yawn and then I breathe real deep And dance myself to sleep. I hoof around my beddie just a-tappin' my toes Before I know what's happened I'm a-ready to doze Got some partners I can count the boogie-woogie sheep I dance myself to sleep.”

“Понякога се пробуждах посред нощ, с пресъхнала уста, и преди още да изплувам от съня, нещо ми пошушваше да заспя пак, да се гмурна обратно в топлината, в безсъзнателността като в единствено затишие. Но вече си казвах: „Просто съм жадна, достатъчно е да се изправя, да ида до умивалника, да пия вода и пак да заспя”. Ала щом станех, щом видех в огледалото собствения си образ, смътно осветен от уличната лампа, щом хладката вода започнеше да се стича в гърлото ми, тогава отчаянието ме завладяваше и с истинско усещане за физическа болка си лягах отново, зъзнейки. Просвах се по корем, обхванала глава в ръце, и притисках тяло о кревата, сякаш любовта ми към Люк бе горещо и смъртоносно животинче, което в бунта си бих могла да премажа между кожата си и чаршафите. И битката се разразяваше. Паметта, въображението се превръщаха в жестоки врагове. Лицето на Люк, Кан, какво е било и какво би могло да бъде. И неспир отпорът на тялото ми, което бе сънено, на разума ми, който бе отвратен. Вирвах глава, съставях уравнения:”Аз съм аз, Доминик. Обичам Люк, който не ме обича. Несподелена любов, задължителна мъка. Точка.”

“Astray from a deep sleep chronic as I write by phonics, like insomnia I will always live the onyx night for revealing, and, upon it, still I'll steal the bright light of day right away just to keep building at speeds hypersonic.”

“The deep, soft mattress that usually made her feel as if she were a cygnet nestled under its mother's wing now seemed hard and lumpy, as if horse hair had been stitched into pillow ticking and laid across concrete. She turned one way and the other, unable to find any semblance of the comfort that would lead to sleep. ... And Maisie knew, as thoughts contradicted each other, conspiring to exhaust her into sleep, that with one short assignment she could test the water.”

“A few days ago I resumed that 'war-service' - or, more correctly, 'manoeuvre' life, which I discovered years ago to be the most suitable for myself at certain times. Sleeping in bed in the afternoon as long as possible, then walking about for two hours, then staying awake as long as possible. But in this 'long as possible' lies the hitch. 'It isn't possible for long', not in the afternoon, not at night, and yet I'm actually wilted when I get to the office in the morning. And the real prize lies hidden in the depths of the night, in the second, third, fourth hour; but nowadays if I don't go to bed at latest around midnight, night and day and I myself are lost.”

“Sleepless nights lead only to crazed mornings—oneiric images, emotions, stories, desires, sensations arise when they choose and stay according to their own codes. The subconscious will not be denied. Dreams that should have been morph and manifest themselves in tricks of the mind: minor hallucinations play out before the eyes in the harsh light of day, they enter the ears from the inside out; wild thoughts lead away from reason. Disassociated, unprotected, not itself or too much its most base, worst self, the mind cannot be trusted. Self-skullduggery.”

“Right now, our model is the culture of exhaustion. We need to be exhausted before we can fall asleep, so we keep pushing and pushing ourselves. But if a society can't rest, how can it sleep?”