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Hell, Chuck Yeager could do it in his sleep while on fire, I'm sure.
--
Usenet article <b1rcb7$83k$1@panix1.panix.com> (2003)

 

James Nicoll

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He got used early to the adulation of a wide public and eventually decided that he could do without it; long before the end, fame had to chase him far harder than he chased it. But among his fellow practitioners his lustre was undimmed, unequalled. and unchallenged. ... Just as the astronauts riding up on their rockets all worshipped Chuck Yeager, the jet pilot who never joined them in space because he flew too well with wings, so the media millionaires all knew that Cook was the unsurpassable precursor who had done it all before they did, and done it better.

 

Peter Cook

 

Mike Huckabee: My plan to secure the border? Two words: Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris: Mike Huckabee's a lifelong hunter who'll protect our Second Amendment rights.
Huckabee: There's no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard, only another fist.
Norris: Mike Huckabee wants to put the IRS out of business.
Huckabee: When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.
Norris: Mike's a principled, authentic conservative.
Huckabee: Chuck Norris doesn't endorse, he tells America how it's gonna be.

 

Mike Huckabee

 

Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the power of the sun, to pacify Hell, to identify with the primordial spark, to feed on the marrow of the volcano. It's not the tobacco we're after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightning.

 

Tom Robbins

 

"Go to hell," Covenant mumbled. "Don’t you ever sleep?"
"The Bloodguard do not sleep."
"What?"
"No Bloodguard has slept since the Haruchai swore their Vow."
With an effort, Covenant pulled himself into a sitting position. He peered blearily at Bannor for a moment, then muttered, "You’re already in hell."

 

Stephen R. Donaldson

 

The City is of Night, but not of Sleep;
There sweet sleep is not for the weary brain;
The pitiless hours like years and ages creep,
A night seems termless hell.

 

James (B.V.) Thomson