Quotes About Dreaming

What is worthwhile in life? I think it is worth living and dreaming. If you don't you may be dead anyhow - inside.

But that was civilisation, so far as Logen could tell. People with nothing better to do, dreaming up ways to make easy things difficult.

How is it that, a full two centuries after Jane Austen finished her manuscript, we come to the world of Pride and Prejudice and find ourselves transcending customs, strictures, time, mores, to arrive at a place that educates, amuses, and enthralls us? It is a miracle. We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming, our own consciousness in someone else's mind.

We read in bed because reading is halfway between life and dreaming, our own consciousness in someone else's mind.

Let me just run that past you, Rosie,' McGuire said. 'In case I've blacked out or I'm dreaming. Are you telling me that our esteemed Home Secretary not only may have witnessed the kidnapping of little Amy, but was rogering some dusky rent boy at the same time? Oh, fuck me, Rosie! I think I'm going to faint. Just saying it makes me lightheaded.

I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind.

Felmenni a városba, álmodozni, maszturbálni és várakozni - így is össze lehet foglalni, mibÅ'l áll egy vidéken töltött kamaszkor.

Many nights he lay there dreaming awake of secret cafés in Mont Marte, where ivory women delved in romantic mysteries with diplomats and soldiers of fortune, while orchestras played Hungarian waltzes and the air was thick and exotic with intrigue and moonlight and adventure.

It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being. This, too, was quite characteristic of Amory.

What can I expect from myself? My sensation in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling. A sharp mind that only destroys me, and an unusual capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained. A dead will and a reflection that cradles it, like a living child.

Everything I sought in life I abandoned for the sake of the search. I'm like one who absentmindedly looks for he doesn't know what, having forgotten it in his dreaming as the search got under way.

I'm almost convinced that I'm never awake. I'm not sure if I'm not in fact dreaming when I live, and living when I dream, or if dreaming and living are for me intersected, intermingled things that together form my conscious self.

I fused the beauty of dreaming and the reality of life into a single blissful colour.. ...On a clear bright day even the softness of the sounds is golden...

Trago dentro do meu coração, Como num cofre que se não pode fechar de cheio, Todos os lugares onde estive, Todos os portos a que cheguei, Todas as paisagens que vi através de janelas ou vigias, Ou de tombadilhos, sonhando, E tudo isso, que é tanto, é pouco para o que eu quero.

Like every dreamer, I've always felt that my calling was to create. Since I've never been able to make an effort or carry out an intention, creation for me has always meant dreaming, wanting or desiring, and action has meant desiring of the acts I wish I could perform.

Tanto tenho vivido sem ter vivido! Tanto tenho pensado sem ter pensado! Pesam sobre mim mundos de violências paradas, de aventuras tidas sem movimento. Estou farto do que nunca tive nem terei, tediento de deuses por existir. Trago comigo as feridas de todas as batalhas que evitei… Em mim o que há de primordial é o hábito e o jeito de sonhar.

Civilisation consists in giving something a name that doesn't belong to it and then dreaming over the result. And the false name joined to the true dream does create a new reality. The object does change into something else, because we make it change. We manufacture realities.

How is it done? By not doing. By dreaming insistently. By performing our daily duties but living, simultaneously, in the imagination. Travelling far and wide, in the geography of our minds. Conquering like Caesar, amid the blaring trumpets of our reverie. Experiencing intense sexual pleasure, in the privacy of our fantasy. Feeling everything in every way, not in the flesh, which always tires, but in the imagination.

To read is to dream, guided by someone else's hand.

But everything is absurd, and dreaming least of all.

Isn't love at least a means of possessing ourselves through our sensations? Isn't it at least a way of dreaming vividly, and therefore more gloriously, the dream that we exist?

Leer es soñar de la mano del otro. Leer mal y por encima es tanto como librarnos de la mano que nos guía. La superficialidad en la erudición es el mejor modo de leer bien y ser profundo.

Besides, what can I expect from myself? My sensations in all their horrible acuity, and a profound awareness of feeling … A sharp mind that only destroys me, and a ferocious capacity for dreaming to keep me entertained … A dead will and a reflection that cradles it

It's raining, and I suddenly feel the terrible weight of being an animal that doesn't know what it is, dreaming its thought and emotion, withdrawn into a spatial region of being as into a hovel, satisfied by a little heat as by an eternal truth.