#insomnia

I fix the cramped, lined pages with my curious stare. How do you come to exist? ↗

— Kiera Woodhull

#imagination #insomnia #writer #writing #dreams

I've always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. ↗

— David Benioff

#sleep #brain

sleep is such a luxury, which i cant afford. ↗

— Robin Sikarwar

#night #sleep #sleeplessness #stress #work-load

In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge. ↗

— Sidonie Gabrielle Colette

#early #early stages #insomnia #oasis #refuge

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. ↗

— David Foster Wallace

#dogs #dyslexia #god #humor #insomnia

All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me. I loathe Somnus, that black-masked headsman binding me to the block; and if in the course of years I have got so used to my nightly ordeal as almost to swagger while the familiar axe is coming out of its great velvet-lined case, initially I had no such comfort or defense: I had nothing - save a door left slightly ajar into Mademoiselle's room. Its vertical line of meek light was something I could cling to, since in absolute darkness my head would swim, just as the soul dissolves in the blackness of sleep. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#night-terrors #sleep #sleeplessness #somnus #life

Women can go mad with insomnia. The sleep-deprived roam houses that have lost their familiarity. With tea mugs in hand, we wander rooms, looking on shelves for something we will recognize: a book title, a photograph, the teak-carved bird -- a souvenir from what place? A memory almost rises when our eyes rest on a painting's grey sweep of cloud, or the curve of a wooden leg in a corner. Fingertips faintly recall the raised pattern on a chair cushion, but we wonder how these things have come to be here, in this stranger's home. Lost women drift in places where time has collapsed. We look into our thoughts and hearts for what has been forgotten, for what has gone missing. What did we once care about? Whom did we love? We are emptied. We are remote. Like night lilies, we open in the dark, breathe in the shadowy world. Our soliloquies are heard by no one. ↗

— Cathy Ostlere

#loss #night #women #love

Tonight - I am alone in the night, a homeless and sleepless nun! Tonight I hold all the keys to this the only capital city and lack of sleep guides me on my path. You are so lovely, my dusky Kremlin! Tonight I put my lips to the breast of the whole round and warring earth. Now I feel hair - like fur - standing on end: the stifling winds blow straight into my soul. Tonight I feel compassion for everyone, those who are pitied, along with those who are kissed. ↗

— Marina Tsvetaeva

#love

The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets. ↗

— Poppy Z. Brite

#night #sleep #secret

An intensely gripping narrative...expertly crafted and totally addictive...a must read! ↗

— Maggie Reese

#bipolar-disorder #blog #blogger #depression #insomnia