Being on Broadway is the modern equivalent of being a monk. I sleep a lot, eat a lot, and rest read more

Being on Broadway is the modern equivalent of being a monk. I sleep a lot, eat a lot, and rest a lot.

Sleep is a death, O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die:
And as read more

Sleep is a death, O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die:
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.

How he sleepeth! having drunken
Weary childhood's mandragore,
From his pretty eyes have sunken
read more

How he sleepeth! having drunken
Weary childhood's mandragore,
From his pretty eyes have sunken
Pleasures to make room for more--
Sleeping near the withered nosegay which he pulled the day
before.

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not read more

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not in vain
Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams.
His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolve
In soft repose; on him the balmy dews
Of Sleep with double nutriment descend.

There is nowhere in the world where sleep is so deep as in the
libraries of the House of read more

There is nowhere in the world where sleep is so deep as in the
libraries of the House of Commons.

Come to me now! O, come! benignest sleep!
And fold me up, as evening doth a flower,
read more

Come to me now! O, come! benignest sleep!
And fold me up, as evening doth a flower,
From my vain self, and vain things which have power
Upon my soul to make me smile or weep.
And when thou comest, oh, like Death be deep.

When the sheep are in the fauld, and a' the kye at hame,
And all the weary world to read more

When the sheep are in the fauld, and a' the kye at hame,
And all the weary world to sleep are gane.

Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.

Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music read more

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist's music deep,
Now tell me if that any is.
For gift or grace, surpassing this--
"He giveth His beloved sleep."