“I suppose that's what we do in death⎯⎯⎯sleep in wonder.”

“What am I supposed to do with a wool coat? Especially here in Palm Springs?”

“Sleep with it,” he suggested. “Think of me.”

“We breathe, sleep, drink, eat, work and then die! The end of life is death. What do you long for? Love? A few kisses and you will be powerless. Money? What for? To gratify your desires. Glory? What coems after it all? Death! Death alone is certain.”

“And I wonder if there is really any point to what I'm doing, or what I'm supposed to make of a world where a man can get rich playing "let's pretend”

“May we not imagine that possibly this earthly life of ours is to the other life what sleeping is to waking? May not all our life be a dream and death an awakening? But an awakening to what? And supposing that everything is but the dream of God and that God one day will awaken? Will He remember His dream?”

“What do I share?
What do I keep from all the strangers
Who sleep where I sleep?”

“To die, to sleep -
To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub,
For in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

“I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death”

“Let no man fear to die: We love to sleep all,
And death is but the sounder sleep.”

“Time found our tired love sleeping,
And kissed away his breath;
But what should we do weeping,
Though light love sleep to death?
We have drained his lips at leisure,
Till there's not left to drain
A single sob of pleasure,
A single pulse of pain.”