“The only one who gets to canoodle in my bedroom is my magnificent self.”

“I was a mummy's boy; I still am. My mum still gets rid of the spiders off my walls. She comes over, picks them up and chucks them outside. There may be one in my bedroom, and I'll never sleep.”

Amir Khan (boxer) (1986) British boxer

“I had only to open my bedroom window, and blue air, love, and flowers entered with her”.”

Marc Chagall (1887–1985) French artist and painter

“When I’m being love, I don’t get drained, and I don’t need people to behave a certain way in order to feel cared for or to share my magnificence with them. They’re automatically getting my love as a result of me being my true self. And when I am nonjudgmental of myself, I feel that way toward others.”

Anita Moorjani (1959) writer

“There are one hundred glow-stars on my bedroom ceiling. (…) Glow-stars are strange. They make the ceiling disappear.”

Alex Garland book The Beach

“Roger: Uh no – that would be dangerous because they’re in my bedroom. People could get hurt. But no, I made shelves and it takes up a giant wall.”

Roger Manganelli (1973) American musician

“[after one of his dogs urinated in the bedroom] Who pissed!!? Who pissed on my fucking carpet!?! That bastard fucking dog man. I'm going to throw you in the pool! Get the fuck out of my house! Why do they do it Sharon? Whats the deal man? It's a fucking terrorist man! It's fucking part of Bin Laden's gang! Fucking Ali Baba used to go work on this rug.”

Ozzy Osbourne (1948) English heavy metal vocalist and songwriter

“I have a rotten habit of picturing the bedroom scenes of my friends.”

Ernest Hemingway book The Sun Also Rises

“I came home one night, some month ago, and I went to the closet in my bedroom… and a moth ate my sports jacket.
He was laying on the floor, nauseous, y'know.”

Woody Allen (1935) American screenwriter, director, actor, comedian, author, playwright, and musician

“Several days later, I tell a neighbor, a man I know well, that my mother died and that the floor lamp in my bedroom came on during the night. My neighbor is sincerely sorry to hear of my mother’s death; he supposes there must have been some kind of surge in the electrical grid. Our lives are so similar, my friends’ and mine. The difference between us briefly flares—like the lamp in my bedroom—only when I publish a religious opinion.”

Richard Rodríguez (1944) American journalist and essayist