Quotes about sleepiness

A collection of quotes on the topic of sleepiness, time, timing, making.

Quotes about sleepiness

Cornelius Keagon photo
Jack London photo

“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”

Jack London (1876–1916) American author, journalist, and social activist

The Bulletin, San Francisco, California, December 2, 1916, part 2, p. 1.
Also included in Jack London’s Tales of Adventure, ed. Irving Shepard, Introduction, p. vii (1956)

Frank Zappa photo

“I think it is good that books still exist, but they do make me sleepy.”

Frank Zappa (1940–1993) American musician, songwriter, composer, and record and film producer
Jack London photo

“I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.”

Jack London (1876–1916) American author, journalist, and social activist

The Bulletin, San Francisco, California, December 2, 1916, part 2, p. 1.
Also included in Jack London’s Tales of Adventure, ed. Irving Shepard, Introduction, p. vii (1956)
Context: I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Mark Twain photo
Sylvia Plath photo
Hiroo Onoda photo

“Without a huge shock, the sleepy-head, ignorant Japanese will never wake up.”

Hiroo Onoda (1922–2014) Imperial Japanese Army intelligence officer

Judit Kawaguchi, "Words to Live By: Hiroo Onoda"

Fernando Pessoa photo

“Yes, talking to people makes me sleepy.”

Ibid.
The Book of Disquiet
Original: Sim, falar com gente dá-me vontade de dormir.

Mark Twain photo
Fernando Pessoa photo

“I have now so many fundamental thoughts, so many really metaphysical things to say, that I suddenly get tired and decide not to write more, not to think more, but allow the fever of saying to make me sleepy, and fondle, with closed eyes, as if to a cat, all that I could have said.”

Ibid., p. 56
The Book of Disquiet
Original: Tenho neste momento tantos pensamentos fundamentais, tantas coisas verdadeiramente metafísicas para dizer, que me canso de repente, e decido não escrever mais, não pensar mais, mas deixar que a febre de dizer me dê sono, e eu faça festas, como a um gato, a tudo quanto poderia ter dito.

Mark Twain photo
Frank Zappa photo
Mark Twain photo

“There has never been a just one, never an honorable one — on the part of the instigator of the war. I can see a million years ahead, and this rule will never change in so many as half a dozen instances. The loud little handful — as usual — will shout for the war. The pulpit will — warily and cautiously — object — at first; the great, big, dull bulk of the nation will rub its sleepy eyes and try to make out why there should be a war, and will say, earnestly and indignantly, "It is unjust and dishonorable, and there is no necessity for it." Then the handful will shout louder. A few fair men on the other side will argue and reason against the war with speech and pen, and at first will have a hearing and be applauded; but it will not last long; those others will outshout them, and presently the anti-war audiences will thin out and lose popularity. Before long you will see this curious thing: the speakers stoned from the platform, and free speech strangled by hordes of furious men who in their secret hearts are still at one with those stoned speakers — as earlier — but do not dare to say so. And now the whole nation — pulpit and all — will take up the war-cry, and shout itself hoarse, and mob any honest man who ventures to open his mouth; and presently such mouths will cease to open. Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception.”

originally in The Chronicle of Satan (1905).
The Mysterious Stranger (1916)

Margaret Wise Brown photo
Cassandra Clare photo
Stephen King photo
Bashō Matsuo photo

“Old dark sleepy pool…
Quick unexpected frog
Goes plop! Watersplash!”

Bashō Matsuo (1644–1694) Japanese poet

Source: Japanese Haiku

John Keats photo
Cassandra Clare photo
Beatrix Potter photo
Richelle Mead photo
Scott Westerfeld photo
John Keats photo

“Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams
The summer time away.”

John Keats (1795–1821) English Romantic poet

Source: Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

Kenneth Grahame photo
Dave Chappelle photo
Frances Farmer photo

“Contentment has been worn as a crown by no end of sleepy heads.”

Henry S. Haskins (1875–1957)

Source: Meditations in Wall Street (1940), p. 104

Sören Kierkegaard photo
Surendra Pratap Singh photo
Aldo Leopold photo
George Carlin photo
William Morris photo
John Masefield photo

“And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.”

John Masefield (1878–1967) English poet and writer

Salt-Water Ballads (1902), "Trade Winds"

Mo Yan photo
Jack London photo
Karel Appel photo

“Every day I have to be awake to escape... The whole world is sleepy. It is a real fight to be awake, to see everything new, for the first time in your life.”

Karel Appel (1921–2006) Dutch painter, sculptor, and poet

Quote from 'The eye of the beholder', Carlo McCormick
Karel Appel – the complete sculptures,' (1990) not-paged

“Nothing makes us so sleepy as the bell of our alarm clock.”

William Feather (1889–1981) Publisher, Author

Featherisms (2008)

W.E.B. Du Bois photo
Nicole Krauss photo

“Franz Kafka is dead.He died in a tree from which he wouldn't come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you'll stop asking for me." The people whispered and nodded among themselves. […] They turned and started for home under the canopy of leaves. Children were carried on their fathers' shoulders, sleepy from having been taken to see who wrote his books on pieces of bark he tore off the tree from which he refused to come down. In his delicate, beautiful, illegible handwriting. And they admired those books, and they admired his will and stamina. After all: who doesn't wish to make a spectacle of his loneliness? One by one families broke off with a good night and a squeeze of the hands, suddenly grateful for the company of neighbors. Doors closed to warm houses. Candles were lit in windows. Far off, in his perch in the trees, Kafka listened to it all: the rustle of the clothes being dropped to the floor, or lips fluttering along naked shoulders, beds creaking along the weight of tenderness. That night a freezing wind blew in. When the children woke up, they went to the window and found the world encased in ice.”

Source: The History of Love (2005), P. 187

James Hamilton photo
Mickey Spillane photo

“Nobody ever walked across the bridge, not on a night like this. The rain was misty enough to be almost fog-like, a cold gray curtain that separated me from the pale ovals of white that were faces locked behind the steamed-up windows of the cars that hissed by. Even the brilliance that was Manhattan by night was reduced to a few sleepy, yellow lights off in the distance.
Some place over there I had left my car and started walking, burying my head in the collar of my raincoat, with the night pulled in around me like a blanket. I walked and I smoked and I flipped the spent butts ahead of me and watched them arch to the pavement and fizzle out with one last wink. If there was life behind the windows of the buildings on either side of me, I didn't notice it. The street was mine, all mine. They gave it to me gladly and wondered why I wanted it so nice and all alone.
There were others like me, sharing the dark and the solitude, but they were huddled in the recessions of the doorways not wanting to share the wet and the cold. I could feel their eyes follow me briefly before they turned inward to their thoughts again.
So I followed the hard concrete footpaths of the city through the towering canyons of the buildings and never noticed when the sheer cliffs of brick and masonry diminished and disappeared altogether, and the footpath led into a ramp then on to the spidery steel skeleton that was the bridge linking two states.
I climbed to the hump in the middle and stood there leaning on the handrail with a butt in my fingers, watching the red and green lights of the boats in the river below. They winked at me and called in low, throaty notes before disappearing into the night.
Like eyes and faces. And voices.
I buried my face in my hands until everything straightened itself out again, wondering what the judge would say if he could see me now. Maybe he'd laugh because I was supposed to be so damn tough, and here I was with hands that wouldn't stand still and an empty feeling inside my chest.”

One Lonely Night (1951)

Muhammad photo
Herman Melville photo
Glen Cook photo
Miyamoto Musashi photo
Frances Bean Cobain photo

“Teetering in between worlds with a sleepy conscious, pestilence, infinite knowledge, alienation, burning cigarettes, vibes & male seahorses.”

Frances Bean Cobain (1992) American artist

24 March 2015 https://twitter.com/alka_seltzer666/status/580432645550641152
Twitter https://twitter.com/alka_seltzer666 posts

John Cage photo
P.G. Wodehouse photo
Piet Mondrian photo
Sarah Helen Whitman photo
Joel Mokyr photo
Kate Bush photo

“Every sleepy light
Must say goodbye
To the day before it dies
In a sea of honey
A sky of honey
Keep us close to your heart
So if the skies turn dark
We may live on in
Comets and stars.”

Kate Bush (1958) British recording artist; singer, songwriter, musician and record producer

Song lyrics, Aerial (2005), A Sky of Honey (Disc 2)

Alauddin Khalji photo
Leoš Janáček photo
Elinor Wylie photo
Lauretta Bender photo
Donald J. Trump photo

“We are getting great marks for the handling of the CoronaVirus pandemic, especially the very early BAN of people from China, the infectious source, entering the USA. Compare that to the Obama/Sleepy Joe disaster known as H1N1 Swine Flu. Poor marks, bad polls - didn’t have a clue!”

Donald J. Trump (1946) 45th President of the United States of America

As quoted by * 2020-05-10

Trump claims he is ‘getting great marks’ for coronavirus response as US death toll nears 80,000

Richard Hall

Independent

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/trump-coronavirus-us-response-barack-obama-joe-biden-a9507346.html
2020s, 2020, May