Quotes & Sayings About Sleeping In Class

I traffic in empathy. I try to be vulnerable with people so they can be vulnerable back. I've always been searching for empathy in other people. It's when I feel most not alone. — Jose Antonio Vargas

Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye. — J.K. Rowling

The process of writing is a process of learning; and much has become clearer to me in the attempt to transform my original rough notes into what I hope is an intelligible presentation. — Paul A. Baran

London has such an unbelievable respect for theater, where L.A. does not. You go to a play here, and the dude next to you is sleeping. In London, if you're not in your seat when it starts, they lock the door. In Los Angeles, you can stroll into school late with a cup of coffee. In London, you get your butt to class on time. — Devin Kelley

Sleeping in the park in a city is a form of civilization. First, you need a city with enough bustle and clatter to make a person yearn for a calm, green spot. Then you need a first-class park, — Gurcharan Das

The deterioration of the intelligentsia is as much a symptom of disease as the corruption of the ruling class or the sleeping sickness of the proletariat. — Arthur Koestler

Of course, he showed me this one afternoon when he was skipping class. When trolls cut classes, you think they are losers. When the beautiful and/or reasonably erudite do the same thing to sit on the library steps and read poetry, you think they are on to something deep. You see only deep brown wavy hair and strong legs, well honed by years of Ultimate Frisbee. You see that book of T. S. Eliot poems held by the hand with the long, graceful fingers, and you never stop to think that it shouldn't take half a semester to read one book of poems ... that maybe he is not so much reading as getting really high every morning and sleeping it off on the library steps, forcing the people who actually go to class to step or trip over him. — Maureen Johnson

It was time for me to go that Thursday night. We'd just watched Citizen Kane--a throwback to my Cinema 190 class at USC--and it was late. And though a soft, cozy bed in one of the guest rooms sounded much more appealing than driving all the way home, I'd never really wanted to get into the habit of sleeping over at Marlboro Man's house. It was the Pretend-I'm-a-Proper-Country-Club-Girl in me, mixed with a healthy dose of fear that Marlboro Man's mother or grandmother would drop by early in the morning to bring Marlboro Man some warm muffins or some such thing and see my car parked in the driveway. Or even worse, come inside the house, and then I'd have to wrestle with whether or not to volunteer that "I slept in a guest room! I slept in a guest room!", which only would have made me look more guilty. Who needs that? I'd told myself, and vowed never to put myself in that predicament. — Ree Drummond

A girl from his English class who'd overdosed on sleeping pills after learning of the disappearance of her identical twin. — Tom Perrotta

He thought of Darwin sleeping out on the pampas during his Beagle trip, a middle-class white kid travelling the world, the first of the backpackers. It was only afterwards, really, that he had made any sense of what he had seen. Alex wondered what, in the fullness of time, he himself would make sense of, what small, crucial detail might be lodging itself in his brain that would shake his life to its foundations. — Nino Ricci

Are you asking me out? For a date?" asked Marie. She wasn't surprised. It had happened to her before. She thought David was just another white guy who wanted to rebel against his white middle-class childhood by dating a brown woman. He wouldn't have been the first white guy to do such a thing. She had watched quite a few white guys pursue brown female students, especially Asian nationals, with a missionary passion. Co to college, find a cute minority woman, preferably one with limited English, and colonize her by sleeping with her. — Sherman Alexie

The cross-section of a helicopter blade, according to Sarah, is more or less the same as the wing of an aeroplane. Its shape creates a pressure differential in the air passing over its upper and lower surfaces, producing a consequent lift. It differs from an aeroplane wing, however, in that when a helicopter moves forward, air starts passing over the blade that's coming forward faster than it passes over the blade that's going backwards. This produces unequal lift on the two sides of the helicopter, and the faster it goes, the more unequal the lift becomes. Eventually the 'retreating' blade stops producing any lift at all, and the helicopter flips on to its back and drops out of the sky. This, according to Sarah, was a negative aspect. — Hugh Laurie

Avoidance is a wonderful therapy — Maggie Stiefvater

Jenna walked in between desks and plonked herself down behind hers, noticing AGAIN that the teacher hadn't graced the class with his zitty presence. She thought Mr. Kennan needed to get fired, which said a lot, because she rarely paid attention to ugly teachers. She'd discussed this with the principal two weeks back when she'd been sent to his office after getting caught sleeping. She'd told him that if he employed more hot teachers like Mr. Daniels then maybe she wouldn't pass out from boredom. The principal gave her a week's detention because of that comment, saying that she needed to take things more seriously. But she WAS being serious.
Jenna Hamilton from Graffiti Heaven (Chapter 28). — Marita A. Hansen

You're the only girl I've ever touched. And I feel like it
was supposed to be that way. I touch you and my whole body ... rings. Like a bell or something. And I
could touch other girls, and maybe there would be something, you know, like maybe there would be
noise. But not like with you. — Rainbow Rowell

I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land
every color, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike
all snored in the same language. — Malcolm X