What do you do to make yourself sleep?greenspun.com : LUSENET : Just Being Me : One Thread
Help a sister insomniac out here. How do you get to sleep when you're so tired you can't make your eyes shut?
Done anything especially crazy in an overexhausted stupor before? Share with the group. Maybe even sing us a lullaby...
-- Katrina Marie (email@example.com), May 10, 2000
Ïjn miy kuøntry wje mæk ørselfes sløep bij raedïng LUESNÊT førûm Åsk Å Drûnkk!! Ïts jûst sø blædij BÖRÉNG, yøû knåôw??? Fifve mïnûûts ojf thæt drïjvel ånjd yøur sûre tø bje ïn vje Lænd øvf NÖDD!!! Wïjshïng yøû swæejt dræeåms Kåtrijna Mærïe, ånd mæjbè wê meæet sømedæj, whø kån tjêll?!?€?!°
-- Ùlffnå’åjr Grååûkrø’khjh (firstname.lastname@example.org), February 23, 2002.
To sleep - no more, and by a sleep to say we end the heartaches and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die. To sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, when we have shufffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.
There's the respect that makes calamity of so-long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrongs, the proud man's contumely, when he himself might his quietus make, with a bare bodkin?
Who would fardles bear? To grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the thought of something after death. The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the Will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we no not of. Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pallid cast of thought.
-- Will Shakespeare (email@example.com), February 27, 2002.