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!
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.
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.]
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