So, so true.

“Sleep was never wasted time. For Hemingway, rest was part of the work. Quiet hours when the noise dropped away and the mind reset itself. He believed in rising early, writing hard, and earning the right to rest. Sleep wasn’t escape. It was repair. A return to yourself.

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?”

In a world that glorifies exhaustion, there’s something deeply radical about honoring rest, loving the stillness of night, and waking ready to do the work again. Sometimes the most disciplined thing you can do is simply close your eyes.”