When he woke up in the darkness of his hot and stuffy room he felt, even before his mind began working again, that painful oppression or malaise of the soul left in us by some grief we have slept on. It seems as though the misfortune which merely grazed us the day before has worked its way during our sleep into our very flesh and is bruising and exhausting it like a fever.
-Guy de Maupassant
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