Time, motion and wine cause sleep.
Sleep, rest of things, O pleasing Deity, Peace of the soul, which cares dost crucify, Weary bodies refresh and mollify.
Sleep, rest of nature, O sleep, most gentle of the divinities, peace of the soul, thou at whose presence care disappears, who soothest hearts wearied with daily employments, and makest them strong again for labour!
O fool, what else is sleep but chill death's likeness?
Sleep, nature's rest, divine tranquility, That brings peace to the mind.
What is it that love does to a woman? Without she only sleeps with it alone, she lives.
Sleep ... peace of the soul, who puttest care to flight.
To wish is of little account; to succeed you must earnestly desire; and this desire must shorten thy sleep.
Thou fool, what is sleep but the image of death? Fate will give an eternal rest. [Lat., Stulte, quid est somnus, gelidae nisi mortis imago? Longa quiescendi tempora fata dabunt.]
Sleep, thou repose of all things; sleep, thou gentlest of the deities; thou peace of the mind, from which care flies; who doest soothe the hearts of men wearied with the toils of the day, and refittest them for labor.
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