Sleeping On The Floor Quotes & Sayings

shortly I should be able to live at peace in my cottage, with all the twenty four hours of the day to myself. Forty-six I am, and never yet had a whole week of leisure. What will 'for ever' feel like, and can I use it all? Please note its address from March onwards - Clouds Hill, Moreton, Dorset - and visit it, sometime, if you still stravage the roads of England in a great car. The cottage has two rooms; one, upstairs, for music (a gramophone and records) and one downstairs for books. There is a bath, in a demi-cupboard. For food one goes a mile, to Bovington (near the Tank Corps Depot) and at sleep-time I take my great sleeping bag, embroidered MEUM, and spread it on what seems the nicest bit of floor. There is a second bag, embroidered TUUM, for guests. The cottage looks simple, outside, and does no hurt to its setting which is twenty miles of broken heath and a river valley filled with rhododendrons run wild. I think everything, inside and outside my place, approaches perfection. — T.E. Lawrence

The British and the Western Europeans in general, as well as the North Americans, waste the space of their homes with these rooms for ludicrously vast sleeping-machines
some with four pillars and a roof, some with iron fences at each end, topped with brass balls, and some with mahogany headboards whose function I have never yet understood. I would rather follow the Turkish proverb that "he who sleeps on the floor will not fall out of bed." In sum, I despise all furniture as monstrous, heavy, space-greedy, expensive, and pretentious. — Alan W. Watts

I'm not the type to pat myself on the back and all that, but somebody has to be lucky, right? When I got to Dallas, I was struggling - sleeping on the floor with six guys in a three-bedroom apartment. I used to drive around, look at the big houses, and imagine what it would be like to live there and use that as motivation. — Mark Cuban

Emma had been given her own room and so had Julian, but he was hardly ever in it. Drusilla and Octavian were still waking up every night screaming, and Julian had taken to sleeping on the floor of their room, pillow and blanket piled up next to Tavvy's crib. There was no high chair to be had, so Julian sat on the floor opposite the toddler on a food-covered blanket, a plate in one hand and a despairing look on his face. Emma — Cassandra Clare

He lifted my luggage off the floor. "You're not sleeping on the couch or the recliner. You're sleeping in my bed."
"Which is more unsanitary than the couch, I'm sure."
"There's never been anyone in my bed but me."
I rolled my eyes. "Give me a break!"
"I'm absolutely serious. I bag 'em on the couch. I don't let them in my room."
"Then why am I allowed in your bed?"
One corner of his mouth pulled up into an impish grin. "Are you planning on having sex with me tonight?"
"No!"
"That's why. Now get your cranky ass up, take your hot shower, and then we can study some Bio. — Jamie McGuire

Anyhow," she went on, "so long as my mother forced me to embroider, I insisted on choosing a pattern that interested me. I've never understood why girls are always made to stitch insipid flowers and ribbons." "Well, just to hazard a guess ... " Colin straightened his edge. "Perhaps that's because sleeping on a bed of flowers and ribbons sounds delightful and romantic. Whereas sharing one's bed with a primeval sea snail sounds disgusting." Her jaw firmed. "You're welcome to sleep on the floor." "Did I say disgusting? I meant enchanting. I've always wanted to go to bed with a primeval sea snail. — Tessa Dare

Summer said only men are allowed to sleep on the floor. Women just aren't that special and have to have a bed. She said it's like peeing outside." He shrugged. "Some things women just can't do." They all looked at Grace. She was all for women's lib, but not when it came to peeing outside and sleeping on the floor. Put — Katie Graykowski

Is there anywhere else to sleep tonight ... Anywhere?' I pleaded.
There's Mei's office, but you'll have to sleep on the floor I'm afraid.' Mei was one of the Ward 9D dietitians.
'I'll sleep on the floor any day. I'm used to it back in the Islands,' I laughed tiredly.
I settled down on the floor. The three rugs I had brought to cushion my back worked surprisingly well. It was almost more comfortable than the thin mats on the cold concrete floors of the fales in Samoa. The idea of sleeping in someone's office was the best idea I had had all year. I decided that I would keep this secret to myself. — Ta'afuli Andrew Fiu

Once you sleep on feathers you can't go back to sleeping on the floor. — Lenny Bruce

The first glance at the pillow showed me a repulsive sentinel perched upon each end of it
cockroaches as large as peach leaves
fellows with long, quivering antennae and fiery, malignant eyes. They were grating their teeth like tobacco worms, and appeared to be dissatisfied about something. I had often heard that these reptiles were in the habit of eating off sleeping sailors' toe nails down to the quick, and I would not get in the bunk any more. I lay down on the floor. But a rat came and bothered me, and shortly afterward a procession of cockroaches arrived and camped in my hair. In a few moments the rooster was crowing with uncommon spirit and a party of fleas were throwing double somersaults about my person in the wildest disorder, and taking a bite every time they stuck. I was beginning to feel really annoyed. I got up and put my clothes on and went on deck.
The above is not overdrawn; it is a truthful sketch of inter-island schooner life. — Mark Twain

She was sleeping on the bed like a novel that is yet to be read and he sat on the floor, reading her, moving his fingers through her hair and staring at her face like she was magic that none ever understood. — Akshay Vasu

I was angry with you. (Callie)
For what? (Sin)
Sleeping on the floor again. What is it with you and the floor? Most women have to fear their husbands are in the bed of another. Me, 'tis the hearth I envy. (Callie) — Kinley MacGregor

Each year we go to the Cannes film festival and I tend to have all my friends pile in the back of my car and we'll drive from London. The poor production company think they're only putting me up and suddenly they've got eight people sleeping on my hotel room floor. — Jeremy Irvine

Another favorite position of his was sitting with his back to me, his rear half resting on the floor of the boat and his front half on the bench, his face buried into the stern, paws right next to his head, looking as if we were playing hide-and-seek and he were the one counting. In this position he tended to lie very still, with only the occasional twitching of his ears to indicate that he is not necessarily sleeping. — Yann Martel

Thanks for staying with me last night," I said, stroking Toto's soft fur. "You didn't have to sleep on the bathroom floor."
"Last night was one of the best nights of my life."
I turned to see his expression. When I saw that he was serious, I shot him a dubious look. "Sleeping in between the toilet and the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of your best nights? That's sad, Trav."
"No, sitting up with you when you're sick, and you falling asleep in my lap was one of my best nights. It wasn't comfortable, I didn't sleep worth a shit, but I brought in your nineteenth birthday with you, and you're actually pretty sweet when you're drunk."
"I'm sure between the heaving and purging I was very charming."
He pulled me close, patting Toto who was snuggled up to my neck. "You're the only woman I know that still looks incredible with your head in the toilet. That's saying something. — Jamie McGuire

They spent their first night in America sleeping on the floor of a tavern on Mulberry Street, in Manhattan's Little Italy. Then they ventured west, eventually finding jobs in a slate quarry ninety miles west of the city near the town of Bangor, Pennsylvania. The following year, fifteen Rosetans left Italy — Malcolm Gladwell

It didn't look like a house they'd just moved into. There were LEGO robots on the stairs and two cats sleeping on the sofa in the living room. The coffee table was stacked with magazines, and a little kid's winter coat was spread on the floor. The whole house smelled like fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies. There was jazz music coming from the kitchen. It seemed like a messy, happy kind of home - the kind of place that had been lived in forever. — Rick Riordan

Twelve thousand years after walking the plank, Rakesh woke on the floor of his tent. He was lying face-down on a blue and gold sleeping mat; he drew in a deep breath to savour the rich scent of its fibres. This was the tent he'd carried with him on all his travels on Shab-e-Noor, and it remained with him wherever he went. — Greg Egan

Last night was one of the best nights of my life."

"Sleeping in between the toilet an the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of our best nights? That's sad, Trav. — Jamie McGuire

Are we going to argue or have pretend sex?"
Wesley exhaled. "Pretend sex, I guess. What am I doing?"
"Sleeping in bed. She's sleeping on the floor."
"He makes her sleep on the floor?"
"He gives her a blanket."
"Very romantic. — Tiffany Reisz

At eighteen, she already looks like a woman of sorrows and as her breaths start becoming shorter, tired of looking over her shoulder, she only wants to get away from this city where no one can fathom her love- boundless and profane and real, like her skin and her lips and the insides of her thighs. She knows she can smile, smell like the others. Her skin would bleed too if pricked and yet this reality does not belong to the ones sleeping on the platform floor; this reality is hers and her alone. Thus when she puts the mirror back, she rummages in her handbag, searching for that thing called identity: some of it lost somewhere in the railway colony she had just left behind, some in Sudhanshu's left jacket pocket, the rest of it scattered here around broken teacups on railings, totally aberrant and arbitrary. — Kunal Sen

I remember waking up that first morning and seeing you next to me in your sleeping bag, all curled up, and I felt so ... so pleased to see you. It was like the feeling you got when you were a kid and you had a friend stay the night. While you were sleeping you'd forget he was there and then you'd wake up and see him sleeping on the mattress on the floor and you'd remember and you'd feel all happy. You'd think, Oh that's right, good old Jimbo's here - we're gonna have fun today! — Liane Moriarty

Guns, double-crosses, hitmen ... I can get used to a lot of things, but I'm never going to get used to sleeping where apocalypse bugs mate," Wednesday said, walking into the room looking around. She dropped her Birkin on the floor and heard something scuttling behind the cheap plastic wood print veneer covered dresser. She turned to face Alvin, her head cocked to the side. "Seriously. I'm not saying five-star ... I'm saying go on Expedia and find a place that actually has stars ... any stars. — Dennis Sharpe

... I can taste her in the air, I can feel her
at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built
for her feet to walk upon,
I can see pillows for her head,
I can feel my waiting laughter,
I can see her petting a cat,
I can see her sleeping,
I can see her slippers on the floor.
I know that she exists
but where is she upon this earth. — Charles Bukowski

Fucking nightmares.
My heart starts to slow down. Glancing down at the floor, I see Tybalt, who is glaring at me with a puffed-up tail. I wonder if he had been sleeping on my chest and I catapulted him off when I woke up. I don't remember, but I wish that I did, because it would've been hilarious. — Kendare Blake

I need a good woman. I need a good woman
more than I need this typewriter, more than
I need my automobile, more than I need
Mozart; I need a good woman so badly that I
can taste her in the air, I can feel her
at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built
for her feet to walk upon,
I can see pillows for her head,
I can feel my waiting laughter,
I can see her petting a cat,
I can see her sleeping,
I can see her slippers on the floor. — Charles Bukowski

Not long after he nodded off, he felt something and opened his eyes. She was beside him on the floor by the stove, wrapped in her sleeping bag, red hair all crazy from sleep. "I got cold, even with the sleeping bag," she said. "I'll feed the fire," Ian replied, sitting up and slipping a couple of logs into the stove. Then he lay back down, giving her room on the pallet beside him and, pulling her close, said, "Come here, little girl. Let me get you warm." "Hmm. That's what I need." "And what I need," he said, giving her a kiss against her temple. "Can — Robyn Carr

You're sleeping here?" He'd originally planned to just cuff her to him but now she'd proved the cuffs were useless and she didn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Well, I'm not sleeping on the floor. Unless you're worried about me killing you in your sleep? — Katie Reus

The next night I sat at the table at dinnertime, too, and ate soup and bread with preserves. Before she blew out the candles, Drenka spread a sheet across the sofa and called me over. I felt my spine lengthen like it hadn't during the weeks of sleeping contracted on the kitchen floor, and I stretched my arms over my head and pushed myself deep into the cushions of the couch. — Sara Novic

If you talk to little kids about drugs, they tell you that drugs make you feel weird and act crazy and hang around with strange people. Getting sober and running long distances has been deeply bizarre, weirder than any drug or combination of drugs I've tried. I do things now that my friends find crazier than doing drugs I've found on the floor or sleeping in the street. — Mishka Shubaly

Then I suddenly had the most tremendous feeling of the pitifulness of human beings, whatever they were, their faces, pained mouths, personalities, attempts to be gay, little petulances, feelings of loss, their dull and empty witticisms so soon forgotten: Ah, for what? I knew that the sound of silence was everywhere and therefore everything everywhere was silence. Suppose we suddenly wake up and see that what we thought to be this and that, ain't this and that at all? I staggered up the hill, greeted by birds, and looked at all the huddled sleeping figures on the floor. Who were all these strange ghosts rooted to the silly little adventure of earth with me? And who was I? — Jack Kerouac

Sleeping in your clothes makes you tired. The clothes are crumpled, and also your body underneath them. I feel as if I've been rolled into a bundle and thrown on the floor. — Margaret Atwood

I turned to see his expression. When I saw that he was serious, I shot hum a dubious look. "Sleeping in between the toilet and the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of your best nights? That's sad, Trav."
"No, sitting up with you when you're sick and you falling asleep in my lap was one of my best night." ( ... ) "Thanks, Trav. I won't make you babysit me again."
He leaned against his pillow. "Whatever. No one can hold your hair back like I can. — Jamie McGuire

In the spring of 2015, I went to Spain to walk for a week on the Camino de Santiago, the medieval route that has been used for centuries by pilgrims demonstrating their devotion, and now by spiritual seekers looking for renewal. Ever since I studied medieval art in college, walking the Camino had been a dream of mine. I loved the idea of a moderately sized adventure, one that was about walking, not running, and still had the safety of towns and sleeping on mats on the floor instead of inside tents. I set off with underprepared feet, too much in my backpack, thirteen words of Spanish and my copy of Eat Pray Love. — Various

On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. — Annie Dillard

That still did not invalidate their purity in his eyes, so long as they continued to live the way they lived: sitting on the floor, eating with their fingers, cooking and sleeping first in one room, then in another, or in the vast patio with its fountains, or on the roof, leading the existence of nomads inside the beautiful shell which was the house. If he had felt that they were capable of discarding their utter preoccupation with the present, in order to consider the time not yet arrived, he would straightway have lost interest in them and condemned them as corrupt. — Paul Bowles

Anyone know where Kell is?" "Sleeping," Vin said. "He came in late last night, and hasn't gotten up yet." Ham grunted, taking a bite of baywrap. "Dox?" "In his room on the third floor," Vin said. "He got up early, came down to get something to eat, and went back upstairs." ... Ham raised an eyebrow. "You always keep track of where everyone is like that?" "Yes. — Brandon Sanderson

I got lucky. As previously shared, April 16, 2009 found me face down on the disgustingly filthy floor of a very expensive apartment, close to alcoholic death. Left to me, there were two things which I considered of value: a full bottle of sleeping pills perfectly capable of ending my life, and a working cell phone. I used the phone. That desperate call to my family doctor saved my life and, along with the help of many people, connected the dots to the place where I am now. That flimsy reed of hope has remained unbroken ever since, and has grown stronger and more resilient each day. — Brian Wacik

Just sleep here." At my sharp look he laughs. "I'll take the floor, and I'll get you to your job on time. I promise."

"You're full of promises." But the thought of sleeping in a soft bed with warm blankets is appealing. And I understand Jannik now. I'm his symbol of hope, his reason to believe that one day he too can throw off the shackles of his family. — Cat Hellisen

If you can make a little painting for the ears with a few words, well, I like words: I like cutting them up and finding different ways of saying the same thing. I get into a spell, and it all comes easy. I don't labor over it. I go inside the song. I think you make yourself an antenna for songs, and songs want to be around you. And then they bring other songs along, and then they're all sittin' around, and they're drinking your beer, and they're sleeping on the floor. And they are using the phone. They're rude, thankless little f-ers. — Tom Waits

The American woman's concept of marriage is a clearly etched picture of something uninflated on the floor. A sleeping-bag withoutair, a beanbag without beans, a padded bra without pads. To work on it, you start pumping
what the magazines call "breathing life into your marriage." Do enough of this and the marriage becomes a kind of Banquo's ghost, a quasi-living entity. — Florence King

I grew up poor in San Pedro, California, sleeping on the floor of shady motels with my five siblings and not always sure when or where I'd get my next meal. — Misty Copeland

If this is about sleeping on the floor, I'll do it," I said. "Because I don't mind."

"No, but do you want to take a picture of my nest? It's very romantical. — Catherine Clark

Shannon fought her laughter down and tiptoed back to the bedroom to retrieve her cell phone. Big, badass, John Palmer was sleeping with a lonely puppy. Padding back out to the living room she snapped a quick picture. "If that goes anywhere other than your phone, there will be hell to pay," he growled, sending her into fits of giggles. The puppy's eyes snapped open and she lifted her head wobbily. When she saw Shannon standing a few feet away, she tumbled to the floor and jogged over to pee at her feet. John laughed out loud as he sat up on the couch. "That's what you get for trying to be sneaky. You can get this one." Shannon — J.M. Madden