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.

I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful read more

I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to grow in the open air read more

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons. It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh:
For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: read more

Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh:
For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and
drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.

What probing deep
Has ever solved the mystery of sleep?

What probing deep
Has ever solved the mystery of sleep?

Now, blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep!
it covers a man all over, thoughts and read more

Now, blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep!
it covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is
meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold,
and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all
the pleasures of the world cheap; and the balance that sets the
king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even. There is
only one thing, which somebody once put into my head, that I
dislike in sleep; it is, that it resembles death; there is very
little difference between a man in his first sleep, and a man in
his last sleep.

Don't stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed.

Don't stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed.

Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....

Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....

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.