I’ve just finished At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O’Brien. Don’t let the incomprehensible title put you off. It contains vast stores of wisdom:
What is wrong with…most people…is that they do not spend sufficient time in bed.
I find nothing to disagree with in the above.
When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence.
Flippin torturous body.
Why have men spent centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body?
YES. Forget this waste of thinking power, philosophers.
Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep…
In fact, let us all become cats:
We must invert our conception of repose and activity…We should not sleep to recover the energy expended when awake but rather wake occasionally to defecate the unwanted energy that sleep engenders. This might be done quickly – a five-mile race at full tilt around the town and then back to bed and the kingdom of the shadows.
This epic book has finally convinced me that I would be much, much more productive if I spent the vast majority of my life sleeping. Who’s with me?