“Sleep is no longer a healing bath, a recuperation of vital forces, but an oblivion, a nightly brush with annihilation.”
“The cure for a broken heart is simple, my lady. A hot bath and a good night's sleep.”
“She could not mourn. She could no longer weep grasping the essence of annihilation, she wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening.”
“Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.”
“But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?”
“Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine”