No Sleep And Success Quotes

Time to grow up. Time to stop bawling. Time to do SOMETHING. And that means, if I'm not sleeping, my nerd-herd isn't sleeping either-sun or no sun. ~ P.C. Cast

The worst part about her new chambers was that all these wardrobes and vanities and drapes meant there was no space--none at all--for a bookcase. Who on earth could feel comfortable enough to sleep in a room with no books? ~ Cynthia Hand

There is a quality about Bev that evokes a Zen master. She says things that would seem too simple, were they not coming from someone who has earned the right to say them. No one could have worked harder toward a goal; yet about her unfair defeat, she said, "In the end, it's better to feel at peace with yourself." No one could have created more whole-body transformations over the course of a decade - changes she literally had to eat, sleep, and breathe every day - yet after being denied recognition in what would have been an especially humiliating way for most women, she remained philosophical. ~ Gloria Steinem

Really love him, I mean," Geilie persisted. "Not just to bed him; I know you want that, and he does too. They all do. But do you love him?"
Did I love him? Beyond the urges of the flesh? The hole had the dark anonymity of the confessional, and a soul on the verge of death had no time for lies.
"Yes," I said, and laid my head back on my knees.
It was silent in the hole for some time, and I hovered once more on the verge of sleep, when I heard her speak once more, as though to herself.
"So it's possible," she said thoughtfully. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Have you ever wanted something very badly-something that was within your grasp-and yet you were afraid to reach out for it?
That night he had answered no. Tonight he would have said yes. Among other things, he wanted to know where she was; a month ago he'd told himself it was because he wanted the divorce petition served. Tonight he was too exhausted from his long internal battle to bother lying to himself anymore. He wanted to know where she was because he needed to know. His grandfather claimed not to know; his uncle and Alexandra both know, but they'd both refused to tell him, and he hadn't pressed them.
Wearily, Ian leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, but he wouldn't sleep, and he knew it, even though it was three o'clock in the morning. He never slept anymore unless he'd either had a day of grueling physical activity or drunk enough brandy to knock himself out. And even when he did, he laid awake, wanting her, and knowing-because she'd told him-that she was somewhere out there, lying awake, wanting him.
A faint smile touched his lips as he remembered her standing in the witness box, looking heartbreakingly young and beautiful, first trying logically to explain to everyone what had happened-and when that failed, playing the part of an incorrigible henwit. Ian chuckled, as he'd been doing whenever he thought of her that day. Only Elizabeth would have dared to take on the entire House of Lords-and when she couldn't sway them wit ~ Judith McNaught

I opened my eyes; how could I keep them shut when I could not sleep? The same darkness brooded over me; the same unfathomable black eternity which my thoughts strove against and could not understand. I made the most despairing efforts to find a word black enough to characterize this darkness; a word so horribly black that it would darken my lips if I named it. Lord! how dark it was! and I am carried back in thought to the sea and the dark monsters that lay in wait for me. They would draw me to them, and clutch me tightly and bear me away by land and sea, through dark realms that no soul has seen. I feel myself on board, drawn through waters, hovering in clouds, sinking
sinking. ~ Knut Hamsun

One day, a young boy went up to his grandfather, who was an old Cherokee chief. 'Edudi?' the boy asked. 'Why are you so sad?' The old chief bit his lip and rubbed his belly as if his stomach pained him unmercifully. 'There is a terrible fight inside me, Uhgeeleesee', the chief said sternly. 'One that will not let me sleep of give me peace'. 'A fight Grandfather? I don't understand. What kind of fight is inside you?' The old chief knelt in front of the boy to explain. 'Deep inside my heart, I have two wolves. Each strong enough to devour the other, they are locked in constant war. One is evil through and through. He is revenge, sorrow, regret, rage, greed, arrogance, stupidity, superiority, envy, guilt, lies, ego, false pride, inferiority, self-doubt, suspicion and resentment. The other wolf is everything kind. He is made of peace, blissful tranquillity, wisdom, love and joy, hope and humility, compassion, benevolence, generosity, truth, faith and empathy. They circle each other inside my heart and they fight one another at all times. Day and night. There is no letup. Not even while I slumber'. The boy's yes widened as he sucked his breath in sharply. 'How horrible for you'. His grandfather shook his head at these words and tapped the boy's chest right where his own heart was located. 'It's not just horrible for me. This same fight is also going on inside you and every single person who walks this earth with us'. Those words terrified the little boy. 'So tell me Grandfather, w ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Flying is my favorite time in the world. When I'm sitting in a plane, it's amazing because it's quiet and there's no cell phones and no one to talk to you. It's my favorite time. I read all my scripts. I catch up on my movies. I sleep. It's the best. There's no one telling you, "Time to go!" ~ Priyanka Chopra

I cling to my anger with every ounce of humanity left in my ruined body, but it's no use. It slips away, like a wave from shore. I am pondering this sad fact when I realize the blackness of sleep is circling my head. It's been there awhile, biding its time and growing closer with each revolution. I give up on rage, which at this point has become a formality, and make a mental note to get angry again in the morning. Then I let myself drift, because there's really no fighting it. ~ Sara Gruen

Cat's Dream"

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail. ~ Pablo Neruda

Sorry to inform you...but as a fellow failed miner, the problem is there's nowhere left to dig.
We're real poets man.
And whatever. But it's the digging, it's the holes! Its these burrows to half nestle in just to pass the time, to chafe the inner thigh of boredom and that level of power-demanding pain is only in existence because you really, really know that there isn't anything else.
The holes.
And me missing a shovel, that has created the voids, the tears, the fucks, the sucks, the shame, the stares, the songs, the words, and in admittedly, even more holes. Not having one of my shovels has somehow overcompensated the digs in which I've dug.
The holes.
The holes are why you smoke aware of cancer, a disease to take over years of boring lives, and give us a bone to gnaw on, overcome, defeat, lick-dry, or die.
The holes are why you drink with your last dollars, when you know you're going to throw it up tonight anyway.
The holes are why you think you're in love, and that's a hole that you might not climb back from.
The holes, the holes the holes, making you question everything standing at a bus stop...smelling like cigarettes and perfume...signing up for classes you wont go to... hand covered in club stamps... face covered in guilt... Maybe go to a protest and just stand there...Or lay in bed when there's no way you can sleep... ~ Wesley Eisold

Occasionally, events in one's life become clearer through the prism of experience, a phrase which simply means that things tend to be clearer as time goes on. For instance, when a person is just born, they usually have no idea what curtains are and spend a great deal of their first months wondering why on earth Mommy and Daddy have hung large pieces of cloth over each window in the nursery. But as the person grows older, the idea of curtains becomes clearer through the prism of experience. The person will learn the word "curtains" and notice that they are actually quite handy for keeping a room dark when it is time to sleep, and for decorating an otherwise boring window area. Eventually, they will entirely accept the idea of curtains of their own, or venetian blinds, and it is all due to the prism of experience. ~ Lemony Snicket

Now, lying on my back in bed, I imagined Buddy saying, 'Do you know what a poem is, Esther?'
'No, what?' I would say.
'A piece of dust.'
Then just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, 'So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you're curing. They're dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.'
And of course Buddy wouldn't have any answer to that, because what I said was true. People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn't see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick and couldn't sleep. ~ Sylvia Plath

Why doesn't anyone tell you we all wind up married to Henry the VIII?...
...My dear Anne Boleyn,...the only way a woman can avoid waking up next to Henry is to model herself after his daughter Elizabeth and sleep next to no one at all. ~ Judith Claire Mitchell

No real reason for the lack of sleep, it's a disadvantage of rotating shifts that every so often your body clock just throws up it's hands in despair and goes to sulk behind the sofa – leaving you suffering insomnia and/or intense fatigue. ~ Tom Reynolds

Because I didn't sacrifice everything for a country where good people are butchered in their sleep," he grunted, "while their loved ones take the fall for it… and no one points a gun in my face and gets away with it. ~ Kipjo Kenyatta Ewers

A person's sexual choice is the result and sum of their fundamental convictions. Tell me what a person finds sexually attractive and I will tell you their entire philosophy of life. Show me the person they sleep with and I will tell you their valuation of themselves. No matter what corruption they're taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which they cannot perform for any motive but their own enjoyment ~ Ayn Rand

Sleep is cousin-german unto death: Sleep and death differ, no more, than a carcass And a skeleton. ~ Thomas Traherne

She needed to stay away from me. I wanted her to stay away from me. I should've made her leave, but it didn't matter because I couldn't stay away from her any longer. And in the end... I didn't fucking want to. So instead, I watched her sleep. Protecting her the only way I knew how. Except there was no protecting her.. From. Me. ~ M. Robinson

Fine,' I grumbled. 'Maybe the Arrow of Dodona can help jog my memory. At least he insults me in flowery Shakespearean language.'
I drew the arrow from my quiver. 'O prophetic missile, I need your guidance!'
There was no answer.
I wondered if the arrow had been lolled to sleep by the magic surrounding the storage container. Then I realized there was a simpler explanation. I returned the arrow to my quiver and pulled out a different one.
'You chose the wrong arrow, didn't you?' Meg guessed.
'No!' I snapped. 'You just don't understand my process. I'm going back into the sphere of silence now.'
'But -'
I marched away before Meg could finish. ~ Rick Riordan

But music seems to me to be the most closely identified with my soul. I mean, I feel that it's the best for me. It just gets into the bloodstream so quickly, for no reason at all. You can close your heart, and you can sleep even with your eyes closed, but you can never close your ears. ~ Jeff Buckley

In order to awaken, first of all one must realize that one is in a state of sleep. And in order to realize that one is indeed in a state of sleep, one must recognize and fully understand the nature of the forces which operate to keep one in the state of sleep, or hypnosis. It is absurd to think that this can be done by seeking information from the very source which induces the hypnosis.
... One thing alone is certain, that man's slavery grows and increases. Man is becoming a willing slave. He no longer needs chains. He begins to grow fond of his slavery, to be proud of it. And this is the most terrible thing that can happen to a man. ~ G.I. Gurdjieff

Live your life like you're 80 looking back on your teenager years. You know if your dad calls you at eight in the morning and asks if you want to go out for breakfast. As a teenager you're like no, I want to sleep. But as an eighty year old looking back you have that breakfast with your dad. It just little things like that, that helped me when I was a teenager in terms of making choices you won't regret. ~ Taylor Swift

No sleep?" asked Shadow, smiling. "I don't sleep. It's overrated. A bad habit I do my best to avoid - in company, wherever possible, and the young lady may go off the boil if I don't get back to her. ~ Neil Gaiman

Melancholy isn't, of course, a disorder that needs to be cured. It's a species of intelligent grief which arises when we come face to face with the certainty that disappointment is written into the script from the start.
We have not been singled out. Marrying anyone, even the most suitable of beings, comes down to a case of identifying which variety of suffering we would most like to sacrifice ourselves for.
In an ideal world, marriage vows would be entirely rewritten. At the altar, a couple would speak thus: "We accept not to panic when, some years from now, what we are doing today will seem like the worst decision of our lives. Yet we promise not to look around, either, for we accept that there cannot be better options out there. Everyone is always impossible. We are a demented species."
After the solemn repetition of the last sentence by the congregation, the couple would continue: "We will endeavor to be faithful. At the same time, we are certain that never being allowed to sleep with anyone else is one of the tragedies of existence. We apologize that our jealousies have made this peculiar but sound and non-negotiable restriction very necessary. We promise to make each other the sole repository of our regrets rather than distribute them through a life of sexual Don Juanism. We have surveyed the different options for unhappiness, and it is to each other we have chosen to bind ourselves."
Spouses who had been cheated upon would no longer be at liberty fu ~ Alain De Botton

It was the tale of a woman scorned, a woman locked in battle over her man, her money, her children, and her rights as a long-term wife. It was a morality tale of Biblical proportions, involving adultery and covetousness, all of it wrapped in a great big flag emblazoned with the almighty U.S. dollar - and concluding in what, on the face of it, appeared to be a most blood-curdling case of stark, premeditated murder in the first degree. Shooting them in their sleep? No soap opera writer could have concocted better. ~ Bella Stumbo

But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through the transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise forever. ~ Herman Melville

down. There just was no way someone that good looking was getting made fun of. Plus guys could sleep with a whole team and it would be okay. Talk about double standards. ~ J.L. Beck

Mature readers consider reading an integral part of life. It is not something they do only to relax or to escape or if there is nothing good on television. It is something they plan for in each day, and if the day develops so that they have no time for it, they may become restless, rather like joggers who miss their run. Some - busy parents, for example - stay up late at night to read their daily quota after the house is quiet, acknowledging that having balance in their lives is more dependent on reading time than on sleep. ~ Judith Wynn Halsted

Are you not the one who told me that she had to petition the king to get her husband to sleep with her?"
"Aye,that is the gossip at court, but no one knows what she looks like save the king,and he refuses to discuss it. 'Sides, her husband died on the way home to perform his ... er duty."
"'Twas probably suicide," Amaury muttered grimly. ~ Lynsay Sands

Vampire Slayer," I grumbled, "Try killing a god sometime and then get back to me. Blondie wouldn't last a day. She'd be whining to her mommy about the unfairness of it all within minutes. Oh, and falling for your prey... total amateur. You don't poop where you eat and you don't kill where you sleep. Or sleep with who you kill. No wait, that's necrophilia," I frowned and then shook my head. "Oh whatever, it's just dumb to let your prey seduce you. ~ Amy Sumida

No." Allie stood her ground. "I'll not go in."
"Me, neither." Jason slid from his horse. "If Allie ain't going in, I'm not going in."
Wes glanced skyward. How was it possible for his near mute wife to pick up an echo? After four years in the Army, leading men, and two years of pushing cattle to market, it took Allie to make Wes realize that a leader wasn't a leader unless he had a follower.
"All right, where would you like to sleep tonight? ~ Jodi Thomas

Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. ~ Bram Stoker

Go in peace," I said to him; "bear no ill-will to me, for Necessity yields to no man: and do not complain of me to our mother, for her blood is on your head as well as mine.
If the gods had not forbidden it, my brother, I would put you to sleep before I left you, for night comes on; this is an empty place, and the clouds look dark upon the mountains.
But the blood of kindred is not to be washed away; and when a man has once felt the breath of the Honoured Ones upon his neck, he will not bid them across the threshold. So forgive me, and suffer what must be. The clouds are heavy; if the gods love you, before morning there will be snow. ~ Mary Renault

Now that the day is almost done, the world of glass recedes, the butterfly threat diminishes. I imagine that we're both here in this bed, that my invisible body is nestled against hers. We are breathing at the same pace, our chests rising and falling in unison. We have no need to whisper, because at this distance, all we need is thought. Our eyes close at the same time. We feel the same sheets against us, the same night. Our breath slows together. We split into different versions of the same dreams. Sleep takes us at the exact same time. ~ David Levithan

Those of you who can read I must beg you to read the Bible, and whenever you can get time, study the Bible, and if you can get no other time, spare some of your time from sleep, and learn what the mind and will of God is. ~ Jupiter Hammon

Not long after, and while it was still twilight, the grandfather also went to bed, for he was up every morning at sunrise, and the sun came climbing up over the mountains at a very early hour during these summer months. The wind grew so tempestuous during the night, and blew in such gusts against the walls, that the hut trembled and the old beams groaned and creaked. It came howling and wailing down the chimney like voices of those in pain, and it raged with such fury among the old fir trees that here and there a branch was snapped and fell. In the middle of the night the old man got up. "The child will be frightened," he murmured half aloud. He mounted the ladder and went and stood by the child's bed.

Outside the moon was struggling with the dark, fast-driving clouds, which at one moment left it clear and shining, and the next swept over it, and all again was dark. Just now the moonlight was falling through the round window straight on to Heidi's bed. She lay under the heavy coverlid, her cheeks rosy with sleep, her head peacefully resting on her little round arm, and with a happy expression on her baby face as if dreaming of something pleasant. The old man stood looking down on the sleeping child until the moon again disappeared behind the clouds and he could see no more, then he went back to bed. ~ Johanna Spyri

My desire, my sincere and heartfelt desire is to rip that surprisingly sheer garment from your body, toss you onto that bed, and indeed ravish you from head to toe. I wish to make love to you until you are too exhausted to do so much as stand without support. Until you call out my name in your dreams and reach for me in your sleep. Until you can think of no one and nothing beyond the touch of my hand, the caress of my lips. ~ Victoria Alexander

Let no man talk of murderers escaping justice, and hint that providence must sleep. ~ Charles Dickens

Maybe that's why superheroes wore capes. Maybe they weren't capes at all, but safety blankets, like the one Aru kept at the bottom of her bed and pulled up under her chin before she went to sleep. Maybe superheroes just tied their blankies around their necks so they'd have a little bit of comfort wherever they went. Because honestly? Saving the world was scary. No harm admitting that. ~ Roshani Chokshi

The Fever Bird

The fever bird sand out last night.
I could not sleep, try as I might.

My brain was split, my spirit raw.
I looked into the garden, saw

The shadow of the amaltas
Shake slightly on the moonlit grass

Unseen, the bird cried out its grief,
Its lunacy, without relief:

Three notes repeated closer, higher,
Soaring, then sinking down like fire

Only to breathe the night and soar,
As crazed, as desperate, as before.

I shivered in the midnight heat
And smelt the sweat that soaked my sheet.

And now tonight I hear again
The call that skewers though my brain,

The call, the brain-sick triple note--
A cone of pain stuck inits throat.

I am so tired I could weep.
Mad bird, for God's sake let me sleep

Why do you cry like one possessed?
When will you rest? When will you rest?

Why wait each night till all but I
Lie sleeping in the house, then cry?

Why do you scream into my ear
What no one else but I can hear? ~ Vikram Seth

The one who loves money is never satisfied with money, and whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with income. This too is futile. 11 When good things increase, the ones who consume them multiply; what, then, is the profit to the owner, except to gaze at them with his eyes? 12 The sleep of the worker is sweet, whether he eats little or much, but the abundance of the rich permits him no sleep. ~ Anonymous

Celebrating something?" she asked.
A wicked smile formed on his lips, showing off his dimples. "Just a good night's sleep."
She smiled, too, though not without some reservation. Just what kind of person had they partnered with? A thief and an arsonist? Camille placed a napkin in her lap and devoured a slice of buttered toast.
Oscar hadn't returned from his walk until well after dark the night before. Camille had already turned down the lamps, pulled the blankets up to her ears, and buried her head in her pillow to avoid having to speak to or see him.
"Oscar." She felt her pulse rise. "What I said to you yesterday was miserable."
He kept his attention on his eggs.
"I didn't mean to be so thoughtless. I was just trying to avoid your question."
Oscar finished chewing. "I'm sorry, too," he whispered. "So what about Randall don't you want to talk about?"
The fork slipped between her damp fingers, and she set it on the rim of the plate.
"It's just…I haven't talked about it with anyone. I don't really know how to put it."
She wanted to be desperately in love with Randall and not just fond of him. She didn't want to need to marry Randall; she just wanted to want to. It had been her father's greatest hope for her-and for the company. There was no way to explain it all to Oscar, though, without going into her father's poor finances.
As she drew her palm into her lap, it left a handprint of sweat on the lacquered cherry table. Oscar ~ Angie Frazier

For better or worse, she was the lady Soraya. And the lady Soraya would never dream of missing the warm bulk of Casia's body between her and the hearth, or the comforting drone of Ludo's snores. Or the wry laughter of a slave ... a slave, for Azura's sake! The lady Soraya needed no one.
The lady Soraya cried herself to sleep. ~ Hilari Bell