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With the notebook resting ominuslously on Janie's bed, Janie procrastinates. Does her homework first. And pours herself a bowl of ceral. Breakfast - one of the five most important meals of the day. Not to be skipped.
My parents always worked through their arguments and never went to bed angry. They may not have agreed with one another, but they didn't let that disagreement stop them from laying with one another in peace at night.
I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless?
No, and I never, ever eat in between the meals. I control it well enough and with no pills, and I sleep seven hours a night. I go to bed. I fall asleep, and I wake up seven hours later, and this is the most important.
Training is full-on. Some days I really don't want to get out of bed and hit that track again. Sunday and Monday morning sessions are always horrible. But who really looks forward to going to work on a Monday morning?
'Fan' is an understatement. I had the Spider-Man costume, I had bed sheets, toys, you name it. I've always had an argument with my best friend that Spider-Man was way better than Batman. I was a massive fan growing up.
When I was in my early forties, I slept with a loaded gun under my bed. I'd become severely depressed in my thirties, and for almost a decade I spiraled down into paranoia, rage, self-loathing, and thoughts of suicide.
All of my life, when things got too difficult, I folded up the tent and went to bed. I couldn't stand a challenge... I was terrified of confrontation. I was very laid-back, and just wouldn't get involved or fight back.
Generally I get up at around 7. But oftentimes, I'll be lolling in bed a little bit earlier - sometimes as early as 5:45 - filing in my mind all the things I have to get done. Which is, of course, totally unproductive.
You cry and you scream and you stomp your feet and you shout. You say, 'You know what? I'm giving up, I don't care.' And then you go to bed and you wake up and it's a brand new day, and you pick yourself back up again.
I'm here, Tess. I'm right here, holding your hand. Adam's here, too, he's sitting on the other side of the bed. And Cal. Mum's on her way, she'll be just a minute. We all love you, Tessa. We're all right here with you.
Our houses are hosts to these creatures which are ultra-tiny (so small they were only first discovered in 1965) which live in human carpets, in our beds, on our food, floating in the air, in fact, they are omnipresent.
I'm not very good at going to sleep, and that's probably my worst problem. I don't need much more than seven and a half hours, but I probably get six. I take all my problems to bed with me and fret. I can't switch off.
Nothing like mashed potatoes when you're feeling blue. Nothing like getting into bed with a bowl of hot mashed potatoes already loaded with butter, and methodically adding a thin, cold slice of butter to every forkful.
I like the story about Henry David Thoreau, who, when he was on his death bed, his family sent for a minister. The minister said, 'Henry, have you made your peace with God?' Thoreau said, 'I didn't know we'd quarreled.
I like the story about Henry David Thoreau, who, when he was on his death bed, his family sent for a minister. The minister said, 'Henry, have you made your peace with God?' Thoreau said, 'I didn't know we'd quarreled.'
When I grew up, there was still black and white TV. I was told to never get out of bed once you're put to bed. I'd sneak down the hallway, try to avoid the creaking floor boards and go in and watch the 'Midnight Movie.'
I think one of the main reason's Rick Rosenthal and Whitewater PIctures decided to 'get in bed with me' on 'Fat Kid' was because I came in with a strong business plan as well as a creative vision on how to make the film.
Death tripped down the corridor, changing step, struck out here and there, danced pirouettes; often I felt his breath on my face when he was miles away; often I fell asleep and dreamed while he stood leaning over my bed.
There is a dead spot in the night, that coldest, blackest time when the world has forgotten evening and dawn is not yet a promise. A time when it is far too early to arise, but so late that going to bed makes small sense.
There's something really terrible about having your BlackBerry next to your bed or having your laptop in the living room when you're talking to someone. The biggest source of stress in my life is the screen, the blogging.
There is a riddle about a man who is locked in a room with nothing but a bed and a calendar, and the question is: How does he survive? The answer is: He eats dates from the calendar and drinks from the springs of the bed.
I was a hoarder, and I got rid of everything. Now nothing comes in my home unless it has a purpose. And decor is not a purpose. Home is New York apartment with a table, a bed and sofas. That's it. Everything else is gone.
Usually I go to bed around midnight and wake up around 6, unless I have to do TV, in which case I get up at 5. I grab my phone, check my email, check Twitter. I have push alerts for the president and some other reporters.
When I wake up I look like a madman, like something out of a horror movie! That's why I sleep alone. But the funny thing is that I'm very impeccable and clean before I go to bed. It's just like right before I'm going out.
If anything happened to you, I'd be so destroyed they'd have to strap me to a bed and feed me through a tube. After five or six years, I might be capable of taking care of Rex. In the interim, you should assign a guardian.
I'm very attached to movie theaters and I love going to them. Nothing will ever replace that. It's very romantic and beautiful. I used to want to live inside of one, with a bathtub, a bike and a bed, and just watch movies.
I was seeing everything through pain. I would roll out of bed and do my exercises. I had to do that to work out the remainder of the pain pills. I would drink coffee and go to the set and plunge myself so far into my work.
I don't know that I ever bought into the "American dream." I was a child of privilege. I grew up in the '50s and it was a quiet time in America, at least on the surface and I grew up in a kind of feathery bed of privilege.
I don't go to a psychiatrist. I don't go to a gym. I run away from my accountant, I run away from my dentist. They are all supposed to help you, but I like to stay in bed, where I have a chance to reflect, like Rossellini.
I do have a Viking axe by the bed if I need to whack someone... My wife bought me a Viking axe - the axe side curls down so you can grab the adversary around the neck and you can use it to climb walls, as a grappling hook.
Procrastination comes in two types. Some of us procrastinate in order to pursue restful activities - spending time in bed, watching TV - while others delay difficult or unpleasant tasks in favor of those that are more fun.
It was Mrs. Campbell, for instance, who, on a celebrated occasion, threw her companion into a flurry by describing her recent marriage as "the deep, deep peace of the double-bed after the hurly-burly of the chaise-longue."
The guerrilla fighters should be required to go to bed and get up at fixed hours. Games that have no social function and that hurt the morale of the troops and the consumption of alcoholic drinks should both be prohibited.
It got to the point where I sat on the side of the bed in a hotel room in London in early-1990 and said to whoever or whatever: 'If you are there will you please contact or leave me because you are driving me up the wall.'
If the Soviet Union can give up the Brezhnev Doctrine for the Sinatra Doctrine, the United States can give up the James Monroe Doctrine for the Marilyn Monroe Doctrine: Let's all go to bed wearing the perfume we like best.
One cannot see callers, answer the telephone, go to luncheons or dinners, visit the dentist or shoemaker, address charitable organizations in or from a bed; therefore a bed, in my experience, is simply bristling with ideas.
I have heard, 'Never go to bed angry,' and that makes sense. Unless you're always checking yourself, a grudge or something small can break apart a relationship, and you start to forget what is so amazing about your partner.
Thank God I have the seeing eye, that is to say, as I lie in bed I can walk step by step on the fells and rough land seeing every stone and flower and patch of bog and cotton pass where my old legs will never take me again.
I tend to go to bed really early on New Year's Eve. Then I wake up early, drive up while it's still dark, and hike out somewhere beautiful to watch the sunrise. I just take a couple hours and have a post-mortem of the year.
I had really long hair, and we had this hairdresser, Laverne, that was in Athens. And she did my hair up really big. And she said, 'Honey, when you hang your head over the bed and make love, that hair is not going to move.'
If kids like a picture book, they're going to read it at least 50 times, and their parents are going to have to read it with them. Read anything that often, and even minor imperfections start to feel like gravel in the bed.
As a child, I dreamed that my bed could fly and glide and swoop and hover high over the countryside near my home while, snug and secure, I looked down in wonder at the great carpet of life that seemed so perfect beneath me.
The trip I made to Angola to study the prehistoric contents of the gravel beds as a means of deciding the age of the deposits and their economic potential was the first time prehistory had ever been used for such a purpose.
I was always very active as a kid. I would climb on roofs and jump off using my parents' bed sheet, hoping it would open like a parachute. I was always getting hurt, breaking a leg, you know, bruising, cracking my head open.
It's awkward: Here you are with most of your clothes off in bed with this person who you've really just met. You're strangers to each other's bodies and you're coming together for the first time in front of all these people.
It isn't deep," the Eddisian Ambassador said from the other side of the bed. He was leaning over the wound, looking critical and mildly disappointed. Eugenides didn't miss a beat. "It is...too...deep!" he insisted, outraged.
Our cellar home had a kitchen and a combination bedroom and half bath, which meant we had a sink next to the bed. We had no refrigerator, no shower or tub, and no privacy. My parents shared the bedroom with my sister and me.
Crashes are the worst thing because your wounds stick to you, so you are sweating into your road rash all day and when you try to sleep your wounds are sticking to the bed sheets. It is part of the job and we know the risks.
Whoever has tasted the breath of morning knows that the most invigorating and most delightful hours of then day are commonly spent in bed; though it is the evident intention of nature that we should enjoy and profit by them.