Thinking Too Much To Sleep Quotes

His love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered. ~ Tim O'Brien

I think that always myself is my worst opponent. I always playing against myself first and then to the other one. So I'm playing against two guys during the match ... It's like mentally I don't know what is gonna happen in the next ten minutes. Maybe I get depressed in ten minutes. I don't know myself too much ... Yeah, I was working with a psychology, and I still. ~ Gaston Gaudio

I think regular school is harder than my job. You have to deal with kids picking on you, and you wanting to look good and all this stuff. It was way too much pressure. ~ Selena Gomez

Another thing much too commonly seen, is an aberration of the human mind which otherwise I should have been ashamed to warn you of. It is technically called carpet-gardening. Need I explain it further? I had rather not, for when I think of it, even when I am quite alone, I blush with shame at the thought. ~ William Morris

I should be sorry to think it was the publishers themselves they got up this entire little flutter to enable them to unload a book that was taking too much room in their cellars, but you can never tell what a publisher will do. I have been one myself. ~ Mark Twain

It was inevitable: Yankel fell in love with his never-wife. He would wake from sleep to miss the weight that never depressed the bed next to him, remember in earnest the weight of gestures she never made, long for the un-weight of her un-arm slung over his too-real chest, making his widower's rememberences that much more convincing and his pain that much more real. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

I love you too much to lie to you, Lisey. I love you with all that passes for my heart. I suspect that kind of all-out love becomes a burden to a woman in time, but it's the only kind I have to give. I think we're going to be quite a wealthy couple in terms of money, but I'll almost certainly be an emotional pauper all my life. I've got the money coming, but as for the rest I've got just enough for you, and I won't ever dirty or dilute it with lies. Not with the words I say, not with the ones I hold back. ~ Stephen King

You got no one, then?' she asked.
'No one but enemies.'
'Why aren't you fighting them?'
'Fighting? It's got me everything I have.' And he held his big empty hands up to show her. 'Nothing but an evil reputation and an awful lot of men with a burning need to kill me. Fighting? Hah! The better you are at it, the worse off it leaves you. I've settled some scores, and that can feel grand, but the feeling don't last long. Vengeance won't keep you warm nights, and that's a fact. Overrated. Won't do on its own. You need something else.'
Ferro shook her head. 'You expect too much out of life, pink.'
He grinned. 'And here was me thinking you expect too little.'
'Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed.'
'Expect nothing and you'll get nothing.'
Ferro scowled at him. That was the thing about talk. Somehow it always took her where she did not want to go. Lack of practice, maybe. ~ Joe Abercrombie

It might suprise you to know I think I raised them too much, too ~ William J. Clinton

I don't know what they are. They aren't completely human, so I don't know what to call them." I pulled one of the bags over the man's head, then rolled it down to his waist. My fingers brushed Clare's; the feel of her skin sent a warm tingle firing up my arms. I met her gaze, and without thinking too much about it, I slid my right hand over hers. God, I had missed her.
"Owen, there is a dead body between us," she said, her gaze never straying from mine.
"Best be thankful for that, flower." I pushed down everything I wanted to say. There wasn't time, and her bloody kitchen definitely wasn't the place. ~ Elizabeth Morgan

There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until their death. They don't honor their own lives, they piss on their lives. They shit them away. Dumb fuckers. They concentrate too much on fucking, movies, money, family, fucking. Their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them. Their brains are stuffed with cotton. They look ugly, they talk ugly, they walk ugly. Play them the great music of the centuries and they can't hear it. Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die. ~ Charles Bukowski

The only thing I can hope the viewer will get from the work is something about the structure of the work. It would be asking too much, I think, for them to get my exact intention. But if - through the construct of language, the way things are juxtaposed - there is some sort of disruption of the way you would normally go about reaching photographic images ... if that is happening, that's fine. ~ Lorna Simpson

I wasn't a misogynist when I started this," Tyler replied. "But you get good and you start sleeping with all these women who have boyfriends, and you stop trusting women."
A side effect of sarging is that it can lowers one's opinion of the oppo35D site sex. You see too much betrayal, lying, and infidelity. If a woman has been married three years or more, you come to learn that she's usually easier to sleep with than a single woman. If a woman has a boyfriend, you learn that you have a better chance of fucking her the night you meet her than getting her to return a phone call later. Women, you eventually realize, are just as bad as men-they're just better at hiding it.
"I got hurt a lot when I first started picking up," he continued. "I'd meet an amazing girl I really liked, and we'd talk all night. She'd say she loved me and was so lucky to have met me. But then I'd fail one shit test, and she'd walk away and wouldn't even talk to me anymore. Everything we'd built up over the last eight hours would just go down the drain. So it hardened me. ~ Neil Strauss

I think the action is ninety-three percent, and the consideration is peppered throughout but pretty short ... Once I start it, I feel as though I don't want to look over my shoulder too much. I want to trust the preparations I've made. ~ Chang-rae Lee

He was fully anticipating her lips being bright red to go with her toenail polish. Damn, he loved red lipstick.

But before he could get to those lips, she used them, to say, "Oh, dammit, it's you."

Owen's gaze bypassed her mouth to fly to her eyes.
Because he'd know that voice anywhere.

Madison Allain was home.

A day early.

Not that an extra day would have helped him prepare. He'd been thinking about her visit for a week and was still as wound tight about it as he'd been when Sawyer had told him that she was coming home. For a month.

Owen stood just watching her, fighting back all of the first words that he was tempted to say.

Like, "Damn, you're even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you."

Or, "I haven't put anyone in the hospital lately."

Or, "I've missed you so damned much."

Just for instance.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. Okay, he was supposed to be nice to her. That meant treating her like she was one of the tourists who frequented this dock. Polite. Friendly,

But not I've-known-you-my-whole-life-and-kissed-you-a-whole-bunch friendly. Just mildly hey-how's-it-goin' friendly.

Nice. Polite. A little friendly - but not too much. He could do that. Though it probably meant not saying things like, "I still remember how your nipples taste. ~ Erin Nicholas

I walked to Montevallo.'
'Forty miles?!'
'Forty-two,' he corrected me. 'Well. Forty-two there. Forty-two back. Eight-two miles. No. Eight-four. Yes. Eighty-four miles in forty-five hours.'
'What the hell's in Montevallo?' I asked.
'Not much. I just walked til I got too cold, and then I turned around.'
'You didn't sleep?'
'No, the dreams are terrible. ~ John Green

Among the dead was Rob Hall, one of the most highly acclaimed mountaineers in the world. He ran out of oxygen attempting to rescue a stricken climber. He collapsed from a lethal combination of exhaustion, oxygen deprivation, and the cold.
Somehow, as night fell and the thermostat plummeted, he managed to hold on.
Rob endured a night at 28,700 feet with temperatures as low as minus fifty degrees centigrade. Then at dawn he spoke to his wife, Jan, from his radio, patched through to a satellite phone at base camp.
She was pregnant with their first child, and those on the mountain sat motionless as he spoke to her. "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don't worry too much."
They were his last ever words.
The lessons were clear: Respect the mountain--and understand what altitude and bad weather can do to even the strongest of climbers. In addition, never tempt the wild, and know that money guarantees you nothing--least of all safety--when you climb a mountain as big as Everest. ~ Bear Grylls

Before you have kids, you just have much less to worry about. It doesn't feel that way, but it's true. Once you have kids, your focus has to change, I think, at least to raise kids right. You can't just focus on yourself; it's too hard. ~ Christopher Gorham

I'd like to think there'll be too much of real life going on for me to want to do much acting. ~ Julie Walters

Reaching out, Andrew crooked his little finger with mine. "If I live, I'll find a way to let you know, Drew," he promised. "I owe you that much--and a whole lot more."
After a little silence, Andrew's face brightened. "You don't suppose you could stay, do you? Just think of the fun we'd have playing tricks on Edward and Mrs. Armiger." He laughed at his own thoughts. "Why, we'd make their heads spin, Drew. They wouldn't know one of us from the other."
For a moment, it seemed possible. My mother and father were away, they wouldn't miss me. As for Aunt Blythe--well, we'd think of some way to let her know I was all right. We were bouncing on the bed, singing "Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay," when the door opened and Mama appeared. It was Andrew she looked at, not me.
"Why are you still awake?" she asked. "I told you to go to sleep."
As Mama approached the bed, Andrew flung his arms around her. "You can see me, Mama," he cried. "Oh, thank the Lord! It's me, your own true son, back again for keeps."
She stared at him, perplexed. "What nonsense is this? Of course I can see you. Of course it's you. Who else would it be, you silly goose?"
I slid off the bed and ran to her side. "Me," I shouted, "it could be me."
When Mama didn't even blink, I tugged at her nightgown. "Look at me," I begged. "I'm here too, we both are. Andrew and me. Can't you see us both?" I hugged her, but all she did was shiver.
"No wonder this room is so drafty," she murmured. "The attic do ~ Mary Downing Hahn

I think it's one of the nicest privileges as an actor is to know that you can move people in one moment, make them think about their lives, or make them laugh or make them cry or make them understand something. Or just make them feel something because I think so many of us, including myself, spend too much time not feeling enough, you know? ~ Gerard Butler

Stop. You can't love me because you're lonely, or because I am the only one who doesn't piss you off. I want to piss you off, I want to get on your fucking nerves. I don't want the responsibility of always being your rock. I will try, but I'm a mess, too. I lie, I sleep too much and I don't like children under the age of 6, really. I don't even know if I want kids because I'm selfish, and mothers can't be selfish once they decide to carry another life.
I'm always looking for the rain to come so I trip over my own feet. I know exactly what the air smells like before a storm.
Before you fall in love with me, I want you to know that I cry a lot because it feels good, and I masturbate at least 4 times a week, and you might fall out of love with me before either of us are ready for it.
I have no experience with this. I'm trying to be brave and smart but its almost impossible to be both at the same time.
You can't love me like a fire escape. Sometimes I will be the match, or the smoke under the door. I don't know what I'm doing, all I know is that we all catch fire sometimes, before we even get warm.
Before you fall in love with me, I want you to know that there's a 50% chance that this won't work, that one of us will wind up hating the other. I will try to keep your head above water, but sometimes I'll need help, too.
I can't be your savior, and I don't expect you to be mine. Just watch me unfold and I'll watch you unfold, too. We'll get drunk and tel ~ Caitlyn S.

Maybe I wanted to be crushed, too. To be ready you need to be tired, and you need to have seen a great deal, or what you consider to have been a great deal- we all have such different capacities, are able to absorb and sustain vastly different quantities of visions and pain- and at that moment I started thinking that I had seen enough, that in general I'd had my fill and that in terms of visual stimulation the week thus far has shown me enough and that I was sated. The rock-running in Senegal was enough, the kids and their bonjours- that alone would prepare me for the end; if I couldn't be thankful enough having been there I was sick and ungrateful, and I would not be ungrateful, not ever, I would always know the gifts given me, I would count them and keep them safe! I had had so much so I would be able to face the knife in the alley and accept it all, smiling serenely, thankful that I'd be taken while riding the very crest of everything. I had been on a plane! A tiny percentage of all those who'd ever lived would ever be on an airplane- and had seen Africa rushing at me like something alive and furious. I could be taken and eaten by these wet alleyways without protest. ~ Dave Eggers

I missed you," I said.
"Missed you, too. Welcome home."
We moved in to hug each other, then I sprang back seconds before getting smushed against his still-sopping-wet sweater.
"Ben!"
"Ooh, poor form on my part," he said, and peeled off his sodden sweater. He wore a thin white T-shirt underneath. The coffee spill had left the shirt a bit damp, and it clung slightly to his chest in a way that made me stare and caught my voice in my throat.
That was ridiculous, of course. Ben and I had the kind of friendship where we talked about things like that. I could tease him about his suddenly well-toned body; he'd make some kind of self-effacing joke and parry by bringing up something absurd he'd seen about me in a magazine...
But I didn't say a word. And I didn't stop looking. Clearly I was in a sleep-deprived haze.
"You could still try the coffee," he offered. "There's plenty in the sweater. I can just wring it right into the mug."
I shook off my reverie. "Tempting offer, but no thanks. You really need to give up on the coffee thing. I'm never converting from tea."
"We'll see," he said. He set the wet sweater on the hand towel, then turned to me with his arms out. "Better?"
"Much," I said, and closed the distance between us so he could fold me into his arms.
"Hel-lo! Please tell me I'm interrupting something!" It was Rayna, and at the sound of her voice, Ben and I sheepishly pulled apart. Again, ridiculous. Hugging was nothing unus ~ Hilary Duff

What can we do to maintain slowness in the face of those periods of busyness? How can we avoid overload, exhaustion, or even burnout?
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my answer is simply to pay attention.
I recognize the way I'm inclined to stay up late, the way I will procrastinate at every option- and instead of spiraling into that overwhelming sense of too much, I check in with myself.
Why am I feeling this way? What has changed? What is there more of? What is there less of?
Become better at recognizing the signs of a looming backslide and pay close attention to the areas of our lives that have the greatest impact, ensuring they never slip too far out of hand.
Nicholas Bate refers to this regular checking in as "taking your MEDS" or more specifically, paying attention to:

- Mindfulness
- Exercise
- Diet
- Sleep

Once I recognize which of these areas has changed, its simpler (not necessarily easier) to recognize the issue and start fixing it. Sometimes the changes aren't in my control, so I need to look for ways of finding slow by creating more opportunities for a moment of deep breathing or paying close attention to whats in front of me. But other times, I've simply lost sight of what works, and its a matter of adding more of these things I've neglected- Mindfulness, simplicity, kindness- and reducing the things that don't serve me well.
Above all else, though, I simply go back to my Why.
I call to mind the ~ Brooke McAlary

I think I'm too lazy a writer to do something like historical fiction. You have to do so much research. I just write what I know. ~ Sarah Dessen

I think people have come to know me, and I don't deviate too much as an individual. What you see is what you get. ~ Rob Mariano

Often when you're filming comedy and you've done six or seven takes, the joke's been done and you know you're gonna have to say it again in another set up. I think it's good not to be indulged too much. ~ Jim Howick

It's dangerous to think too much about how a film will be received. Filmmaking is not a popularity contest. Some would disagree. ~ Julia Leigh

Abraham Lincoln said you cannot deceive everybody all the time. Well, that's wishful thinking. In practice, the power of human cooperation networks depends on a delicate balance between truth and fiction. If you distort reality too much, it will weaken you, and you will not be able to compete against more clear-sighted rivals. On the other hand, you cannot organise masses of people effectively without relying on some fictional myths. So if you stick to unalloyed reality, without mixing any fiction with it, few people will follow you. If ~ Yuval Noah Harari

People do go back, but they don't survive, because two realities are claiming them at the same time. Such things are too much. You can salt your heart, or kill your heart, or you can choose between the two realities. There is much pain here. Some people think you can have your cake and eat it. The cake goes mouldy and they choke on what's left. Going back after a long time will make you mad, because the people you left behind do not like to think of you changed, will treat you as they always did, accuse you of being indifferent, when you are only different. ~ Jeanette Winterson

Perhaps too much value is assigned to memory, not enough to thinking. Remembering is an ethical act, has ethical value in and of itself. Memory is, achingly, the only relation we can have with the dead. ~ Susan Sontag

I don't necessarily want to direct because it's too much work and I don't have the attention span to stay with it that long. But I think getting everyone together on something that appeals to me and developing the material is something that I like to do. ~ Patrick Dempsey

I'm getting older, and it happens. You don't care as much. I don't care about too much anymore. I've got to think about that a little bit. ~ Adam Sandler

Reading is a very different thing than performing. In fact, one of the things I think that doesn't work in books on tape is if the person doing the reading "acts" too much; it becomes irritating to you listening to it. ~ Salman Rushdie

Children are taught to fear and obey; the avarice, pride, or timidity of parents teaches children economy, arrogance, or submission. They are also encouraged to be imitators, a course to which they are already only too much inclined. No one thinks of making them original, courageous, independent. ~ Luc De Clapiers

I think a double bass for me would be too much effort. But the cello, you're really engaged and the sound is kind of right here. So, it feels like being merged, married to an instrument. ~ Tod Machover

Sky,

Hopefully by the time you're reading this (because I know you won't read it right away) I'll be madly in love with a hot Italian boyfriend and not thinking about you at all.

But I know that isn't the case, because I'll be thinking about you all the time.

I'll be thinking about all the nights we stayed up with our ice cream and our movies and our boys. But mostly, I'll be thinking about you, and all the reasons why I love you.

Just to name a few: I love how you suck at goodbyes and feelings and emotions, because I do, too. I love how you always scoop from the strawberry and vanilla side of the ice cream because you know how much I love the chocolate, even though you love it, too. I love how you aren't weird and awkward, despite the fact that you've been severely cut off from socialization to the point where you make the Amish look trendy.

But most of all, I love that you don't judge me. I love that in the past four years, you've never once questioned me about my choices (as poor as they may be) or the guys I've been with or the fact that I don't believe in commitment. I would say that it's simple for you not to judge me, because you're a dirty slut, too. But we both know you're not. So thank you for being a non-judgmental friend. Thank you for never being condescending or treating me like you're better than me (even though we both know you are.) As much as I can laugh about the things people say about us behind our ba ~ Colleen Hoover

A hot shower, and a little food might help how he felt. But he doubted anything could take away the vision he kept having of Day flying over the bed and slamming into his dresser. God squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. I'm so sorry, sweetheart.

Too much happened in that room at one time. God wasn't seeing straight. Genesis was beating the hell out of him. Day had violated his trust. His hood neighbors had barged into his home and choked his baby brother. God had so much medication coursing through him, he'd reacted without thinking.

Now he wanted to call Day so badly, but he needed to let things cool off between them. Then he'd have to figure out how he was going to make it up to him. ~ A.E. Via

Workaholism

Our culture celebrates the idea of the workaholic. We hear about people burning the midnight oil. They pull all- nighters and sleep at the office. It's considered a badge of honor to kill yourself over a project. No amount of work is too much work. Not only is this workaholism unnecessary, it's stupid. Working more doesn't mean you care more or get more done. It just means you work more.

Workaholics wind up creating more problems than they solve. First off, working like that just isn't sustainable over time. When the burnout crash comes - and it will - it'll hit that much harder. Workaholics miss the point, too. They try to fix problems by throwing sheer hours at them. They try to make up for intellectual laziness with brute force. This results in inelegant solutions. They even create crises. They don't look for ways to be more efficient because they actually like working overtime. They enjoy feeling like heroes. They create problems (often unwittingly) just so they can get off on working more.

Workaholics make the people who don't stay late feel inadequate for "merely" working reasonable hours. That leads to guilt and poor morale all around. Plus, it leads to an ass- in- seat mentality - people stay late out of obligation, even if they aren't really being productive. If all you do is work, you're unlikely to have sound judgments. Your values and decision making wind up skewed. You stop being able to decide what's worth extra eff ~ Jason Fried

After the Olympics and being on such a high and then losing in the World Championships, I was distraught. But now, looking back on it, I think it was the biggest blessing. I was going into every fight thinking I have to win because I am Olympic champion and putting too much pressure on myself. I lost my hunger and stopped enjoying my taekwondo. ~ Jade Jones

I'm sorry if I seem to digress, but that is precisely what I was thinking at the moment. It's the way my mind works. Things are not the same in real life as they are in, for instance, the fictional world of Sherlock Holmes. Brains, in reality, do not go clickety-clickety-clickety-click from A to B to C to D and so forth, rushing like a train along the rails, until at the end, with a happy "Toot-toot!" they arrive at their destination, Z, and the case is suddenly solved. Quite the contrary. In reality, analytical minds such as my own are forever shooting wildly off in all directions simultaneously. It's like joyously hitting jelly with a sledgehammer; like exploding galaxies; like a display of fireworks in which the pyrotechnic engineer has had a bit too much to drink and set off the whole conglobulation all at once, by accident. ~ Alan Bradley

You didn't think I really liked you? Do you think I really like you now?"
He turned toward her, uncertainty in his face."You did go quite a lot of effort to be having this conversation, but ... I don't want to read too much of what I hope into that."
Val stretched out beside him, resting her head in the crook of his arm. "What do you hope?"
He pulled her close, hands careful not to touch her wounds as they wrapped around her. "I hope that you feel for me as I do for you," he said, his voice like a sigh against her throat.
And how is that?" she asked, her lips so close to his jaw that she could taste the salt of his skin when she moved them.
You carried my heart in your hands tonight," he said. "But I have felt as if you carried it long before that."
She smiled and let her eyes drift closed. They lay there together, under the bridge, city lights burning outside the windows like a sky full of falling stars, as they slid off into sleep ~ Holly Black