Quotes About Reverie

Ah, Brynn," Vercleese boomed at one tall, extremely thin man with a dreamy air about him and a face dusted with fine white flour. "How's the bread business?" The man pulled himself from whatever reverie gripped him and smiled wanly. "Rising, Sir Vercleese, always rising." Vercleese

The spoken reverie of substances calls matter to birth, to life, to spirituality.

Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For awhile these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

Thinking is still a form of acting. Only in sheer reverie, where nothing active intervenes and even our self-awareness gets stuck in the mud – only there, in this warm and damp state of non-being, can total renunciation of action be achieved. To stop trying to understand, to stop analysing… To see ourselves as we see nature, to view our impressions as we view a field – that is true wisdom.

learning the knack of disconnecting her sense of smell, until she could switch it off like a radio and in the bland silence of its absence could drown in the sound of Nazarébaddoor's hypnotic voice without having her reverie interrupted by the scent of sheep shit or Nazarébaddoor's own frequent and extraordinary buffalo farts.

it is not usual, I say, for such privileged and wealthy beings to waste their time in speculations on the state of society, in philosophical reveries, intended at best to console those whom fate has disinherited from the goods of this world.

I would often invent this dream for myself at the edge of sleep, and then it was strange how content it would make me, how it would make peace and consolation flow, and I would close my eyes and float on it into my real dreams which were never so kind [...].

Our whole childhood remains to be reimagined. In reimagining it, we have the possibility of recovering it in the very life of our reveries as a solitary child.

Tis good to be sad and say nothing!" - When these words of Shakespeare caught my attention, I confess I felt an echo, a delicious echo.

To lose one's self in reverie, one must be either very happy, or very unhappy. Reverie is the child of extremes.

De toda la memoria, solo vale el don preclaro de evocar los sueños.

I love to lose myself for a while.

Hauntings only repeat what occurred once upon a time.

He looked away as if he were again disengaging himself from the present.

He didn't answer me, but I saw his face darken for a moment and then he fell into reverie, with his habitual expression of curiosity and quiet grace.

Welcome folded arms, fixed eyes, a sigh that piercing mortifies; A look that's fastened to the ground, a tongue chained up without a sound.

Todavía me observó, pensativa, y luego se puso en pie para buscar en uno de los estantes. Mientras lo hacía, el perro —era una perra— se alzó sobre sus patas, me dio una vuelta alrededor y volvió a tumbarse con indiferencia en el mismo sitio que antes.

Did I catch you at a bad time?" she asked as a few moments passed without either of them speaking. He mentally shook himself out of his reverie. "Sorry, you looked so..." "Cold?" she suggested with a smile.

Reveries of idealization develop, not by letting oneself be taken in by memories, but by constantly dreaming the values of a being whom one would love. And that is the way a great dreamer dreams his double. His magnified double sustains him. - Gaston Bachelard, Reveries on Reverie (Anima - Animus), The Poetics of Reverie: Childhood, Language, and the Cosmos, Page 88

Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plenitude of the soul.

Contemplating a flame perpetuates a primordial reverie. It separates us from the world and enlarges our world as dreamers. In itself the flame is a major presence, but being close to it makes us dream of far away, too far away. The flame is there, feeble and tiny, struggling to stay in existence, and the dreamer goes on to dream of elsewhere, losing his own being by dreaming on a grand, on a too grand scale by dreaming of the world.

recalling Bachelard's comment on poetic time in The Poetics of Reverie: "In reverie we re-enter into contact with possibilities which destiny has not been able to make use of.

Some are haunted by ghosts. I am haunted by stories.