Inspirational quotes with insomniac.
Mario, what do you get when you cross an insomniac, an unwilling agnostic and a dyslexic?""I give.""You get someone who stays up all night torturing himself mentally over the question of whether or not there's a dog.
Evelyn was an insomniac so when they say she died in her sleep, you have to question that.
The sound is gone. There's nothing left but the insomniac throbbing of crickets. Crickets in the garden, the courtyard, the back courtyard. Close, domestic, identifiable. And those out in the country. Between all of them they raise, little by little, a wall that will keep out the thing that lies waiting for the tiniest crack of silence to steal through. The thing that is feared by all those who are sleepless, those who walk through the night, those who are lonely, children. That thing. The voice of the dead.
He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.
I'm an insomniac, my mind works the night shift.
I'm just an insomniac struggling for a night where I don't dream of you anymore.
You're like a dream I never want to wake up from, but I; I'm insomniac!
Sometimes, at the least opportune times, the past is an insomniac, alive and well.
Your gravity, your grace have turned a tideIn me, no lunar power can reverse;But in your narcoleptic eyes I spiedA sightlessness tonight: or something worse,A disregard that made me feel unmanned.Meanwhile, insomniac, I catch my breathTo think I saw my future traced in sandOne afternoon "as still, as carved, as death,”And pray for an oblivion so deepIt ends in transformation. Only dawnCan save me, flood this haunted house of sleepWith light, and drown the thoughts that nightly warn:Another lifetime is the least you’ll need, to traceThe guarded secrets of her gravity, her grace.
I'm not an insomniac. It's just that my mind is in the best position to catch the weight of all hovering possibilities the moment I lie down.
Stein resented the sedative power of religion, or rather the repose available to those blissfully ignorant that the medicament was a fictitious blank. In this exile from peace of mind to which his reason doomed him, he was like an insomniac driven to awaken sleepers from dreams illegitimately won by going around shouting, 'Don't you realize it was a placebo!' Thus it seemed to me that what you were up against in Stein was not logic rampant, but frustrated faith. He could not forgive God for not existing.
Insomnia is a variant of Tourette's--the waking brain races, sampling the world after the world has turned away, touching it everywhere, refusing to settle, to join the collective nod. The insomniac brain is a sort of conspiracy theorist as well, believing too much in its own paranoiac importance--as though if it were to blink, then doze, the world might be overrun by some encroaching calamity, which its obsessive musings are somehow fending off.
What strange and thoughtless creatures we were, back in those days. We would go up to the rooftops to smoke, Wurth and I; and there in the company of other insomniac souls we would look out at the vast expanse of lights and glamour. We watched the towers as they climbed higher, and higher, as humanity reached for the skies.
As a young wife and mother living in a pre-Pinterest world, I used to glue-gun bows and small pieces of minutia together methodically. I was an insomniac proudly penning thank you notes longer than the Declaration of Independence to every person who had even sent me a card. I was reorganizing my linen closet, ironing placemats, straight-ironing my hair, and never saying no to any person that asked me for a favor. And, I forgot to mention, I didn’t really like myself.I felt like a fuzzy, carbon copy of myself. I felt the passion, the conviction, and the grit somewhere inside of me yet a bunch of preconceived ideas somehow got in the way.
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