Slept Well Quotes & Sayings

As he settled in, he assessed the way he felt with one of his favorite phrases from Mark Twain - the calm confidence of a Christian holding four aces. He slept well. — Don W. Weber

It doesn't matter much anyway. I haven't slept well since he left. I can't dream. In some ways, that's the hardest part of having him gone."
I understand. "Because if you can't dream you can't pretend that he's still here. — Ally Condie

The plate is happy but the toast hasn't slept well and is seeking revenge. — Edward Monkton

You know, we live in an ass-licking economy. The biggest problem in this country is not corruption. The problem is that there are many qualified people who are not where they are supposed to be because they won't lick anybody's ass, or they don't know which ass to lick or they don't even know how to lick an ass. I'm lucky to be licking the right ass." She smiled. "It's just luck. Oga said I was well brought up, that I was not like all the Lagos girls who sleep with him on the first night and the next morning give him a list of what they want him to buy. I slept with him on the first night but I did not ask for anything, which was stupid of me now that I think of it, but I did not sleep with him because I wanted something. Ah, this thing called power. I was attracted to him even with his teeth like Dracula. I was attracted to his power. — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Whore,' he cried. Well, she was not his wife, yet she slept with him. She lived in sin. What else but a whore did that make her; and what did her whoredom make of Ben? — Fay Weldon

In all well-organised brains, the predominating idea - and there always is one - is sure to be the last thought before sleeping, and the first upon waking in the morning. Andrea had scarcely opened his eyes when his predominating idea presented itself, and whispered in his ear that he had slept too long. — Alexandre Dumas

"When you accept your life - when you take your breakfast, and when you sleep and when you walk and when you take your bath - how can you create an ego out of these things? Sleeping when feeling sleepy, eating when feeling hungry, how can you create your ego? No, if you fast, you can create ego. If you are on a vigilance for the whole night, and you say, "I am not going to sleep," you can create the ego. By the morning, the person who has slept well will have no ego, you will have a great ego." — Rajneesh

Because most of these patients suffered from alexithymia, it was not easy for them to report their response to the treatments. But their actions spoke for them: They consistently showed up on time for their appointments, even if they had to drive through snowstorms. None of them dropped out, and at the end of the full twenty sessions, we could document significant improvements not only in their PTSD scores,10 but also in their interpersonal comfort, emotional balance, and self-awareness.11 They were less frantic, they slept better, and they felt calmer and more focused. In any case, self-reports can be unreliable; objective changes in behavior are much better indicators of how well treatment works. — Bessel A. Van Der Kolk

We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and loved each other. — Ernest Hemingway,

A kind of second childhood falls on so many men. They trade their violence for the promise of a small increase of life span. In effect, the head of the house becomes the youngest child. And I have searched myself for this possibility with a kind of horror. For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment. I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage. My wife married a man; I saw no reason why she should inherit a baby. — John Steinbeck

How did you sleep?" Why was he asking me that? How did he know about my insomnia? What kind of head games was Maurice trying to play? "Remember, last year I didn't sleep so good," he continued. "Yeah, I remember that. And this year?" "This year, I slept just fine." "Josh needed sleeping pills," said Ben helpfully. "Yeah, well, they're basically a placebo, right?" "I tried to take sleeping pills one time in practice, and I fell asleep the next morning memorizing numbers," said Maurice. "You know, lack of sleep is the enemy of memory." "Oh." "Anyway, good luck today." "Yeah, good luck to you, too. — Joshua Foer

I slept well that night because someone had been kind to me. — Amber Dermont

Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake. — William Shakespeare

She sees only what's gone, I see only what's stayed the same. Her hair is no longer halfway down her back or pulled up in a French pleat; nowadays it is cut close to her skull and the grey is allowed to show.
Those peasanty frocks she used to wear have given way to cardigans and well-cut trousers. Some of the freckles I once loved are now closer to liver spots. But it's still the eyes we look at, isn't it? That's where we found the other person, and find them still. The same eyes that were in the same head when we first met, slept together, married, honeymooned, joint-mortgaged, shopped, cooked and holidayed, loved one another and had a child together. And were the same when we separated.
But it's not just the eyes. The bone structure stays the same, as do the instinctive gestures, the many ways of being herself. And her way, even after all this time and distance, of being with me. — Julian Barnes

Clearly angry with himself, Denny shook his head. "You needed me, and I wasn't there for you. And I'm really sorry. That was pretty shitty of me."
"Are you kidding?" Incredulous, Kellan pointed over at me. "I slept with your girlfriend ... repeatedly." I flinched, and Abby squeezed my hand a little tighter.
Denny frowned. "Well, that was pretty shitty of you. — S.C. Stephens

A big wind came up and I hoped a storm would break the heat. But it just blew a
lot of dust around, and at sunset we had to bar doors and windows against mosquitoes. It
didn't do much for our comfort level, but - here's where the Chemin takes you - we were
grateful. We were grateful because we had (albeit narrowly) escaped heatstroke; because
the shelter, though unbelievably hot, was clean and quiet; and most of all, because it slept
six but we had it to ourselves. No people to deal with at the end of your (and their)
tether; no sodden bathrooms. No snoring. Pilgrim camaraderie was all very well, but
sometimes it was too damn much. — Denise Fainberg

If you are not feeling well, if you have not slept, chocolate will revive you. But you have no chocolate! I think of that again and again! My dear, how will you ever manage? — Marie De Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise De Sevigne

Oh, you know ... , I start. In my head, I finish: Oh, you know, just the usual. I've slept in Otter's bed two or three times now. Oh, don't worry! We haven't really done anything. Except tell stories about you. And me. And him. Did you know he's wanted me for a long time? He really left because he needed me so bad that it hurt, and he thought he was projecting. Remember when I used to say that to you? That you're projecting? Well, he thought it too. But his was so bad that he used it as an excuse and got the hell out of Dodge, but then he came back, and I still don't completely understand why yet. Oh, and we may have made out. And I may have liked it. And this is after you and I broke up, like ... what? Two days ago? Three days ago? After being together since like second grade? So you know, the usual. — T.J. Klune

I did a bad thing tonight, one of the most terrible things ever: I waited for her to fall asleep, then stole the sheet from under her head. I am missing you or maybe just the idea of you. I have begun seriously thinking about other men. I am afraid I am not strong enough or tough enough for this. I am afraid all the time. I have not slept well in months. When are you coming back, you jerk? We are all trying to be brave without you and doing a real crummy job of it. I do not want to have to be brave anymore without you. — Joe Meno

He slept once again in the small tent by his side, even though he thought Temeraire was well over his distress, and was rewarded in the morning by being woken early, Temeraire peering into the tent with one great eye and inquiring if perhaps Laurence would like to go to Dover and arrange for the concert today.
"I would like to sleep until a civilized hour, but as that is evidently not to be, perhaps I will ask leave of Lenton to go," Laurence said, yawning as he crawled from the tent. "May I have my breakfast first?"
"Oh, certainly," Temeraire said, with an air of generosity. — Naomi Novik

Apathy. Pretending to be happy, pretending to be sad, pretending to have an orgasm, pretending to be having fun, pretending that you've slept well, pretending that you're alive. Until there comes a point where you reach an imaginary red line and realize that if you cross it, there will be no turning back. Then you stop complaining, because complaining means that you are at least still battling something. You accept the vegetative state and try to conceal it from everyone. And that's hard work. — Paulo Coelho

This, since junior school, had been virtually my only experience of women - as fantasy figures. Reading about women in fantasy novels had set me an even more unrealistic point of view. The Lord of the Rings doesn't help, with its sexless visions of elf maidens who may as well be speaking paintings, and neither does other fantasy literature, where women seem to exist solely to be rescued or slept with. The men they want are sorcerer-kings, doomed warriors or deadly assassins. I think the idea that women might fancy good-looking, well-adjusted men who are nice to them is too much for the average fantasy-head to bear. — Mark Barrowcliffe

He slept like an animal, well and lightly, faced in the opposite direction from that of a man; for a man going to sleep is about to escape into it while animals are prepared to escape out of it. — Theodore Sturgeon

I hope you slept well," he said. "Yes, isn't it lovely?" Jenny replied, giving two rapid little nods. "But we had such awful thunderstorms last week." Parallel straight lines, Denis reflected, meet only at infinity. He might talk for ever of care-charmer sleep and she of meteorology till the end of time. Did one ever establish contact with anyone? We are all parallel straight lines. Jenny was only a little more parallel than most. "They — Aldous Huxley

Good morning, beautiful." "Did I snore?" she asks right away. "Not bad," I lie easily. "And even if you did, it just means that you slept well, and that's good. — Kristen Proby

My brother trolled recovery and support groups, searching for women with dependency issues, the way I frequented bookstores with the hope of finding a well-adjusted, intelligent woman. Between us, his record was more stellar, his sin more reprehensible; though, knowing my brother, he slept soundly through the night without ever experiencing the slightest remorse. — Richard J. O'Brien

And I'd noticed her eyes, the lightest blue, and alive, moving here and there and then staring straight on. And now there's darkness under her eyes like she hasn't slept well for too many days, almost like someone punched her just hard enough to leave a little black, a quarter-moon smudge under each eye. — Adam Berlin

And then, well ... He might have slept for a bit. He rather hoped he was sleeping, because he was quite certain he'd seen a six-foot rabbit hopping through his bedchamber, and if that wasn't a dream, they were all in very big trouble.
Although really, it wasn't the rabbit that was so dangerous as much as the giant carrot he was swinging about like a mace.
That carrot would feed an entire village. — Julia Quinn

I slept in the grip of that love, comforted, thinking I should forget my longing within it, knowing that all was somehow well...In the morning when I stirred, I knew...I knew I lay here in my own flesh, but not alone. — Tosca Lee

We have thousands of opportunities every day to be grateful: for having good weather, to have slept well last night, to be able to get up, to be healthy, to have enough to eat ... There's opportunity upon opportunity to be grateful; that's what life is. — David Steindl-Rast

Lady Stark was there beside his bed. She had been there, day and night, for close on a fortnight. Not for a moment had she left Bran's side. She had her meals brought to her there, and chamber pots as well, and a small hard bed to sleep on, though it was said she had scarcely slept at all. — George R R Martin

For even though the rest of the city
no, the rest of the country
starved and searched fruitlessly for work and slept in a humpy in the park, society's finest could still squander their money however they saw fit.
The unemployed, they would say, were lazy. If they worked harder, they'd do as well as Mr. Harry Moneypants was doing, who'd earned his vast fortune by having the foresightedness of selecting rich parents, who had, in their time, also cleverly selected rich parents. — Justine Larbalestier

Yeah, that was the goal - to fuck Prophet so hard and well that he slept like a baby. He moved so he was chest to back, thigh to thigh, the contact like a wrestling pose. He bit down on Prophet's neck where it met his shoulder, enough to leave a mark as he entered him. Prophet hissed at the intrusion, but Tom didn't stop. A slow, smooth push through the pain would make Prophet's body yield to him. "Relax, Proph," he said, more of a demand than a request, and the tension in Prophet's shoulders dissipated as Tom held his hips, rocked against him. "Fuck. Fuck," was all Prophet said when Tom didn't give him time to recover. He didn't need it, not the way Tom had opened him, was pressing him, holding him impaled with his cock. "Tommy . . ." That's the way the man should always sound when he says Tommy. Prophet — S.E. Jakes

He sounded like a man who had slept well and didn't owe too much money. — Raymond Chandler

They said no one knew a man as well as a woman who slept with him. — Iris Johansen

Edwina knew things with Greg had just about run their course. She'd bedded him, and bought him clothes, and now it was time for the polite push out the door. Of course she wished her latest conquest all the best. If he was lucky, Greg would just fall right into some other powerful woman's bed. If not ... well, if not he'd just have to do the old-fashioned thing and look for work. Though darling Greggy-poo didn't really seem the type. Edwina studied him while he slept by the pool, drinking in that tight behind and those bulging muscles for the last time. The trouble with younger men, she thought, was that they were so damned good at sex that they really didn't have to be good at anything else. — Barbara Taylor Bradford

They knew so well how it felt, that they kept one bed in the boys' room, and any man who came at dusk got his supper, to sleep there, and his breakfast, and there never was anything to pay. The girls always scolded dreadfully about the extra washing, but mother said she slept on sheets when she came out, and some one washed them. — Gene Stratton-Porter

Oh, well, it might look like a patterned world, laid out in prim design, but to those living there it could never be so simple. They were as alive as she: that old peasant contriving to outwit the cold; that woman anxiously counting her comical flock lest one goose escape her vigilance; all those who slept, or toiled, or loved under the low-hung roofs or the sharp turrets. Those people out there, if they caught sight of her own face pressed close to the window pane, might be speculating about her. To them she was part of the pattern of the lumbering train with its trail of smoke and little boxlike carriages. Perhaps they envied her, riding at ease to distant Paris. How little they knew of that! How little she herself know what awaited her at the end of the journey! — Rachel Field

I couldn't help shaking my head as I looked at him. Ian slept like a baby every morning - well, a baby who continually kept one hand down his pants. — Jeaniene Frost

Those who have slept with sorry in their hearts
Know all too well how short but sweet
The instant of their coming-to can be:
The heart is strong, as if it ever sorrowed;
The mind's dear clarity intact; and then,
The vast, unhappy stone from yesterday
Rolls down these vital units to the bottom of oneself. — Christopher Logue

When I was pregnant, I felt filled with life, and I felt really happy. I ate well, and I slept well. I felt much more useful than I'd ever felt before. — Suzanne Vega

I never posed as a saint. I would have slept with a man for nothing if I liked him well enough. — Ethel Waters

I trust you all slept well," I said, deliberately keeping my tone light. I returned Malich's glare with a tight-lipped grin.
"Yes, we did," Kaden answered quickly.
"I'm sorry to hear that. — Mary E. Pearson

That pissed me the hell off. I took in a deep breath and blurted out everything without thinking twice. "Fuck you! You want to know who I am, Marcus. Well here it goes! I am temperamental, over-sensitive, and outspoken. I'm honest! I cry at stupid love movies, and I'm a sucker for a romantic novel. I don't allow people to walk all over me, I have trust issues, and I have insecurities. I've slept with four men in my entire life! And the one thing I don't do is take shit from men who try to act like they're better than me as if they don't have any hidden skeletons! I'm not keeping shit hidden, how 'bout you? You can fuck off. I'll find my own way home. Have a nice fucking life!" - Mia — E.L. Montes

Well, he would share her, but only for a little while. When the ball was over, he would make sure she slept inside the castle tonight, with his sister Margaretha. In fact, he might just make sure she never left the castle. He didn't intend for her to ever be without protection again. — Melanie Dickerson

But who, in these modern times, slept well? — Dexter Palmer

Like when people say they slept like a baby. Do they mean they slept well? Or do they mean they woke up every ten minutes, screaming? — Lee Child

Richard Burton rang me up once and said, Do you know you're my only leading lady I've never slept with? I said, Well, please don't tell everybody, it's the worst image. — Julie Andrews

When was the last time we slept?"
"Day before yesterday?" Amy asked with a frown. "I know what you mean. This is some jet lag. Let's get a coffee while we make a plan."
"Oh, yeah. Jet lag. That must be it," Dan agreed as he trailed after her to the espresso bar. "Not the fact that we pulled off a museum heist, went without sleep and food, and oh, yeah - did I mention this - almost got killed? Jet lag. That's why we're tired."
"Well, if you want to get technical. — Jude Watson

When I was 15 or 16 - I slept really well then. Now I sleep on a bed of anxiety-tipped nails. — James McAvoy

Piney woke up wearing a big grin on his face. He couldn't remember when he'd slept so well. He pulled the pillow next to him up over his face. He could smell her hair on it.
"Jesse," he murmured to himself. He liked her. He really liked her. And he loved, loved, loved doing her.
Being inside her. She was so hot. She was so tight. She was ...
Piney stopped himself in midthought and rolled out of bed. His mind was headed where his body could not go. — Pamela Morsi

Get some rest. Kalr will bring supper to your quarters. Things will seem better after you've eaten and slept." "Really?" she asked. Bitter and challenging. "Well, not necessarily," I admitted. "But it's easier to deal with things when you've had some rest and some breakfast. — Ann Leckie

Leanoardo wrote that a painter should begin every canvas wit a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light. Most painters do the opposite, starting with a whitewash and adding the shadows last. But Paul, who knows Leonardo so well you'd thing the old man slept on the bottom bun, understands the value of starting with the shadows. The only things people can ever know about you are the ones you let them see. — Ian Caldwell

Wanting to kill myself is was an appropriate and reasonable response to a whole series of unfortunate events that had rendered life unlivable. Oh, yes, I know the shrinks would say that they could have helped, but that's half the trouble with this bloody country, isn't it? No one's willing to face their responsibilities. It's always someone else's fault. Boo hoo hoo. Well, I happen to be one of those rare individuals who believe that what went on with Mummy and Daddy had nothing to do with me screwing a fifteen-year-old. I happen to believe that I would have slept with her regardless of whether I'd been breast-fed or not, and it was time to face up to what I'd done. — Nick Hornby

How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "I meant to leave after you fell asleep, but apparently I crashed, too. Seriously, I haven't slept that well in forever."

I fought the urge to tell her maybe we should sleep together every night, then. — Cindi Madsen

He is sure to be more happy who has eaten well and slept well and has besides a little money in his jeans. Such men are rare to find for the simple reason that most men are incapable of appreciating the wisdom of such a simple truth. The worker thinks he would be better off if he were running the factory; the owner of the factory thinks the would be better off if he were a financier; and the financier knows he would be better off if he were clean out of the bloody mess and living the simple life. — Henry Miller

She'd just poured herself another cup of coffee, when Jack walked in. He smiled when he saw her, and her heart did a little flip. "Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?" She felt heat in her cheeks. "I slept well, thank you. Thanks for staying with me. Did you get any sleep in that chair?" "Oh, yeah." He reached for a coffee cup. "I can sleep pretty much anywhere - a benefit of having served with the Rangers. If I get five hours a night, I'm good. — Pamela Clare

The truth is that when one is still a child-or even if one is grown up- and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when one has gone to sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakened to find it real, one cannot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one could not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one's eyes. — Frances Hodgson Burnett

My bed isn't made, I'm tired, I haven't slept well for two weeks. I haven't been laid in a month. I don't have a girlfriend. I have a warrant for my arrest. — Layne Staley

Did you sleep at all?"
"No." She heard him mumble something to himself and decided to cut him off before he could scold her again. "My butt did, though. Slept like a log all night."
"Well, obviously, your butt has more sense than you do. — Josephine Angelini

Bill Clinton is the only ex-president who hasn't planned his own funeral. But, in his defense, in the past he has said he wants to be buried next to Hillary. I guess he figures he never slept next to her when they were alive, might as well try it now that they're dead. — Jay Leno

The second evening, the daughters got him drunk again and Gaia, the youngest, slept with him and got pregnant as well. The fruit of their incestuous intercourse would one day prove to be a thorn in the side of Abraham's seed to come. The firstborn bore a son and called him Moab. The younger one bore a son and called him Ben-ammi. These two would be the fathers of the Moabites and the Ammonites. — Brian Godawa

I remember my wife in white. I remember her walking toward me on our wedding day, a bouquet of red flowers in her hand, and I remember her turning away from me in anger, her body stiff as a stone. I remember the sound of her breath as she slept. I remember the way her body felt in my arms. I remember, always I remember, that she brought solace to my life as well as grief. That for every dark moment we shared between us, there was a moment of such brightness I almost could not bear to look at it head-on. I try to remember the woman she was and not the woman I have built out of spare parts to comfort me in my mourning. And I find, more and more, as the days go by and the balm of my forgiveness washes over the cracked and parched surface of my heart, I find that remembering her as she was is a gift I can give us both. — Carolyn Parkhurst

What relationship could exist between the lives of the fools and healthy rabble who were well, who slept well, who performed the sexual act well, who had never felt the wings of death on their face every moment-what relationship could exist between them and one like me who has arrived at the end of his rope and who knows that he will pass away gradually and tragically? — Sadegh Hedayat

Gentleman Jim [dog] was cheerful enough, partly because his owner was so well trained... He had alsot trained him to get up when he didn't want to, simply by climbing slowly and painfully on top of him and squeezing all the breath out of him as he slept. On the occasions this didn't work and Gordon seemed to be simply lapsing into a coma, Gentleman Jim would unroll his massive tongue, containing over a half a pint of drool, and dribble it slowly into his ear until Gordon finally awoke... — Livi Michael

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,
call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? — A.E. Housman

Death may be peaceful but the circumstances leading to it are more often than not anything but. They slept that day with their eyes open, with death as the companion of their dreams. Maybe you would like to imagine that they were looking at each other, heads twisted at grotesque angles or at the fading sun.
Their bodies were just empty vessels and their eyes were windows that showed only a vacant home. Maybe it was because they had passed on into a world where the sun never set or maybe even a world where nothing existed but an infinite pool of darkness. You can choose to believe anything you want up to the time Death comes for you. After that, well, we can only imagin — Shitij Sharma

The miraculous power of love has often been underestimated just like we underestimate the power of sleep. Most of the herculean tasks performed by men were possible because they had been deeply in love and had slept well the night before. — Vivek Pereira

I became an insomniac, really, hardly slept at all, didn't even try to. And it's carried on. I hate to say I only need as much sleep as Mrs. Thatcher, but I can cope really well on five hours. — Sue Townsend

That spring he found the old bear, dead, in one of the caves. He slept beside the body. He dreamed the bear was his father. That was when he gave up being human. He gave her up as well. — Alice Hoffman

I slept well last night. But when I woke this morning, I missed you so intensely. I don't even know how to describe the sensation. I looked at the other pillow, and it just seemed wrong that you weren't there. As though I'd woken up missing my own arm or half of my heart. I felt incomplete. So I rose, and dressed, and I just started walking toward you
because I couldn't move in any there direction. — Tessa Dare

I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night before......I hope I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight. — Bram Stoker

She heard Rowan awake with a start before he reconciled himself to his surroundings. His back scraped across the trunk of the tree as he slid sideways
trying to see around the branch she was sitting on to get a look at her.
"Are you awake?" he asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
"Yeah."
"Did you sleep at all?"
"No." She heard him mumble something to himself and decided to cut him off before he could scold her again. "My butt did, though. Slept like a log all night."
"Well, obviously, your butt has more sense than you do."
"You're a funny man, Rowan whatever your last name is."
"Fall."
"I'd rather not."
She managed to get a tiny chuckle out of him, which she considered a huge achievement. Rowan stood up on his branch, bringing his head level with Lily's, and started to untie her. His lips were still pursed in a near smile.
"My name is Rowan Fall. — Josephine Angelini

It was watching Madeline Alby eat cheese with every ounce of her being, like it was the first and best time, that made him realize that he had never really tasted cheese, or crackers, or life. And he didn't want his daughter to live that way. He'd moved her into her own room the night before ... He hadn't slept well, and had gotten up five times during the night to check on her, only to find her sleeping peacefully, but he could lose a little sleep if Sophie could go through life without his fears and limitations. He wanted her to experience all the glorious cheese of life. — Christopher Moore

Poppy was now almost well. She still slept more than usual, but when she wasn't sleeping she tromped around the doctor's house pulling spoons off the table and spilling cups of water and crumpling pages of books. That is, she was almost her old self. — Jeanne DuPrau

Anna woke with the wonderful feeling bad sleepers have when they know they have slept well. As if they have stolen something and got away with it. At these times the memories of what led up to such deep sleep keep their distance for a few seconds and those few seconds are perhaps the only time the world can ever be said to show mercy. — James Meek

Dogman remembered the smell of her hair, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her back, pressed warm and soft against his belly while she slept. Well-used memories, picked over and worn thin like a favourite shirt. — Joe Abercrombie

I turn over and lie flat on my back,staring at the ceiling. When she slept beside me, I slept well. I need her in my life, in my bed. She was the day to my night. I'm going to get her back. — E.L. James

I felt like I was living at the bottom of a deep well completely shut up inside myself, cursing my fate, hating everything outside. Occasionally I ventured outside myself, putting on a good show of being alive. Accepting whatever came along, numbly slipping through life. I slept around a lot, at one point even living in a sort of marriage, but it was all pointless. Everything passed away in an instant, with nothing left behind except the scars of things I injured and despised. — Haruki Murakami

Death is an old friend; I know him well. I lived with him, ate with him, slept with him; to meet him again does not frighten me death is as necessary as birth, as happy in its own way. — Robert A. Heinlein

Hera also slept well that night as she had brilliantly engineered the coup of her life.Her wayward husband had returned late that evening & announced that he was too tired to make love.He had had a most entangling day,he said, performing his kingly duties.She then told him to have a good night's rest as she had an important job for him to perform in the morning.It was a job demanded by Chaos & Eros who were responsible for the beginning of things, she said. — Nicholas Chong

I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief
oh, no!
it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. — Edgar Allan Poe

By the time I went to bed I wasn't taken in by no Princess or no desire for no Princess and nobody's disapproval and I felt glad and slept well. — Jack Kerouac