I spent many a summer early morning with the radio very low half sleeping and half listening.

I've found myself at one in the morning just sitting at my desk spending an hour returning emails from the day until like two in the morning. It's ridiculous I should be sleeping or dreaming or reading a novel.

These flowers which were splendid and sprightly waking in the dawn of the morning in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity sleeping in the cold night's arms.

My mother gets all mad at me if I stay in a hotel. I'm 31-years-old and I don't want to sleep on a sleeping bag down in the basement. It's humiliating.

C-17s should be ready to go at various military bases around the world packed with water food medical supplies sleeping bags and tents all prepared to be air dropped in alongside soldiers and doctors to begin relief efforts.

Sleeping together is a euphemism for people but tantamount to marriage with cats.

A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. There will be sleeping enough in the grave.

I'm a light sleeper. I've never been one of those people who can put their head down and suddenly everything disappears. Nighttime is the time I get most scared anxious or worried. In those darker moments before waking or sleeping is when I feel most I don't know I can turn on myself and my imagination can take me dark places.

So I'm more at home with my backpack sleeping in a hotel room or on a bus or on an airplane than I am necessarily on a bed. It's weird being here. It feels like I'm standing next to my real life.

Acceptable food rots while we are chased from bins behind restaurants chased from sleeping on the street chased from relieving ourselves unless we pay for food or gas until finally we are so hungry sleepless smelly constipated and beaten-down that we simply die of lack of will to live.