Quotes About Dreams

I'm a journeyman actor, and I don't ever want to forget that. With romantic-lead dreams.

We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Wishers were ever fools

Affection! thy intention stabs the center:Thou dost make possible things not so held,Communicat'st with dreams.

My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamor'd of an ass.

I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.

Sleep shall neither night nor dayHang upon his pent-house lid.

All impediments in fancy's courseAre motives of more fancy.

True, I talk of dreams,Which are the children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

O sleep! O gentle sleep!Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids downAnd steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.

Your heart's desires be with you!

O, I have pass'd a miserable night,So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,That, as I am a Christian faithful man,I would not spend another such a night,Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days.

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,Where oxlips and the nodding violet growsQuite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:There sleeps Titania some time of the night,Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

Now o'er the one half-worldNature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuseThe curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebratesPale Hecate's offerings.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee to me.

The innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care...

If we shadows have offended,Think but this, and all is mended,That you have but slumber'd hereWhile these visions did appear.

O polish'd perturbation! golden care!That keep'st the ports of slumber open wideTo many a watchful night!

O! then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you!…She is the fairies' midwife, and she comesIn shape no bigger than an agate-stoneOn the forefinger of an alderman,Drawn with a team of little atomiesAthwart men's noses as they lie asleep.

The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagination.

To die, to sleep --To sleep, perchance to dream, ay there's the rub,For in that sleep of death what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.

There's a joy and a pain about directing where the dreams you have are becoming concrete but the attention to detail, the need for time is such that it's overwhelming at times, and the stream of responsibility.