To be in a world which is a hell, to be of that world and neither to b >>
Consider a man riding a bicycle. Whoever he is, we can say three thing >>
Novelists do not write as birds sing, by the push of nature. It is par >>
The first moments of sleep are an image of death; a hazy torpor grips >>
We term sleep a death by which we may be literally said to die daily; >>
Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole, to Mary Que >>
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.