Sleep hath its own world, and a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, and tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.
Sleep hath its own world, and a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, and tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.
It is useless to tell one not to reason but to believe - you might as well tell a man not to wake but sleep.
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep, eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning -- how much remains of downright existence The summer of a dormouse.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories