My soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neithr sleeps, nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open, sees
far-off things, and listens
at the shore of the great silence.
~ Antonio Machado
There seemed no end to the lilies. Day after day from all those miles and leagues of flowers there rose a smell which Lucy found it very hard to describe; sweet—yes, but not at all sleepy or overpowering, a fresh, wild, lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain and make you feel that you could go up mountains at a run or wrestle with an elephant. She and Caspian said to one another, "I feel that I can't stand much more of this, yet I don't want it to stop".