Sleep is for the weak and the sheep.

Insomnia is a bad dream from which you must wake up. And, when you do, you find that you are asleep.

I'm so tired, but I can't sleep...standing on the edge of something much too deep...funny how I feel so much but cannot say a word...we are screaming inside, oh, but we can't be heard...so afraid to love you, more afraid to lose...clinging to a past

I know the price of success: dedication, hard work, and an unremitting devotion to the things you want to see happen

...success is not a comparison of what we have done with what others have done.

Speech, tennis, music, skiing, manners, love- you try them waking and perhaps balk at the jump, and then you're over. You've caught the rhythm of them once and for all, in your sleep at night. The city, of course, can wreck it. So much insomnia. So many rhythms collide. The salesgirl, the landlord, the guests, the bystanders, sixteen varieties of social circumstance in a day. Everyone has the power to call your whole life into question here. Too many people have access to your state of mind. Some people are indifferent to dislike, even relish it. Hardly anyone I know.