Had I been in Toronto, I would certainly have been killed in this attack. In the room where I normally sleep, the flames and the smoke and the soot is such that the gases would have killed me.

Actually I ran away from school when I was 13. No one could find me, and the police were called. I was just hiding in a little thicket of grass at my school, and went to sleep.

I'll sleep when I'm dead.

If you're going to do something tonight that you'll be sorry for tomorrow morning, sleep late.

I would teach from nine to four, sleep an hour, and write from six until midnight, night after night.

If you can't eat it, can't sleep under it, can't wear it or make something from it, it's not worth anything.

Men find it difficult because I've got so much energy and hardly sleep at night, only four or five hours. I wake up in the early hours and potter around.

I lay in my dressing room after being in make-up waiting to go on. They knew I was feeling pretty rotten and they tried to give me time to rest. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't do anything.

I took pain pills to get to sleep because I didn't want to go to work the next day exhausted.

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

When I woke up this morning my girlfriend asked me, "Did you sleep good?" I said "No, I made a few mistakes."

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

Sleep, that deplorable curtailment of the joy of life.

In Sleep we lie all naked and alone, in Sleep we are united at the heart of night and darkness, and we are strange and beautiful asleep; for we are dying the darkness and we know no death.