When you are unemployed, weekends are seven days long.
and the castle in which she dwelt was a prison to her; and sometimes sudden fits of gusty passion would overtake her, for weariness grew to hate, and hate to wrath,"The Serpent's Head
(n.) The quality or state of being weary or tried; lassitude; exhaustion of strength; fatigue.
I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has b...
Our labour preserves us from three great evils -- weariness, vice, and want.
Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love?- Epithalamion
Sometimes a workweek will grind you into sand, pulverize you into particles.
It is very easy to grow tired at collecting; the period of a low tide is about all men can endure. At first the rocks are bright and every moving animal makes his mark on the attention. The picture is...
Thou hast been called O sleep! the friend of woe But 'tis the happy who have called thee so.
One of the most adventurous things left is to go to bed for no one can lay a hand on our dreams.
I have been merely oppressed by the weariness and tedium and vanity of things lately: nothing stirs me, nothing seems worth doing or worth having done: the only thing that I strongly feel worth while...
Sleep takes off the costume of circumstance arms us with terrible freedom so that every will rushes to deed. A skillful man reads his dreams for his self-knowledge yet not the details but the qual...
Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day.
Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate with one leap, with a death-leap; a poor ignorant weariness, unwilling even to will any longer: that created all Gods and backworlds.
Sleep faster we need the pillows.
I never sleep in comfort save when I am hearing a sermon or praying to God.
Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.
Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful soundSeems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thoughtAs Hermes with his lyre in sleep profoundThe hundred wakeful e...
What has life given me? The beginning is fire, the end is a heap of ashes, and between the end and the beginning lies all the pain in the world.
Yet a little sleep a little slumber a little folding of the hands to sleep.
For some must watch while some must sleep thus runs the world away.