Quotes About Dreams

I imagined a dark world where the stars clamor to be inside us. Whatever we invent becomes the history we have to live. In truth, it takes only a handful of history's shadows to commandeer our dreams It takes a famine of the heart to empty the streets of our words. It takes an imaginary terror to rid ourselves of imagination.

For a moment you are asleep in my heart. What more can I ask for? I am rocking inside your breaths. I have turned into the words you whisper. When I speak to you, I clothe my heart with your heart. When you tighten and tremble into love, these dreams wander into distant fields and leave no tracks, I have never been so lost, I have never been so certain of where I am. from "The Story

And what does a single feather mean except the love we treasure, or a butterfly mean except the dreams we chase, the way those doves chased whatever called them from beyond the park, something beyond words, beyond the sky that gives away nothing except the longing to discover how love creates its own endless skies. — Richard Jackson, from "Poem for Amy," Broken Horizons (Press 53, 2018)

I imagined a dark world where the stars clamor to be inside us. Whatever we invent becomes the history we have to live. In truth, it takes only a handful of history's shadows to commandeer our dreams It takes a famine of the heart to empty the streets of our words. It takes an imaginary terror to rid ourselves of imagination. from "Involuntary Beginnings

We all get our dreams stamped on from time to time, right? And if it didn't hurt, what kind of second-rate dreams would they be?

Maybe these are a little farther down the road to Candy Land.

We fall asleep that way and I dream about a beautiful black-eyed monster holding my hand and saying, "It's just us. The funny little people who live in the cracks in the world.

In an effort to value and structure time, some of us unintentionally may be killing dreamtime.

When you sleep, your dream world is as real to you as life, isn't it?

desk into a small and lonely light and floated in dreams on a skiff of words. He blinked away the shadows of an ominous image, something tremendous, dark, winged, blotting over the sparkle of the rising sun. Kipling stood up, one hand pressing the cloth, the other still shielding his eyes. "An airplane," he said. The double wings dipped and a trail of black smoke stained the perfect blue sky and then the craft lurched and dropped below the level of the trees.

Hope has wings that make it fly.

men with guns stole our future by killing the best of our leaders, again and again—in one single tragic year, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. And day after day, death upon death, they steal our dreams by killing the people we love.

I love to sleep. It's like being dead without the commitment.

I've come to know that what we want in life is the greatest indication of who we really are.

Life is the soil, our choices and actions the sun and rain, but our dreams are the seeds.

We plan our lives in long, unbroken stretches that intersect our dreams the way highways connect the city dots on a road map. But in the end we learn that life is lived in the side roads, alleys, and detours. Alan Christoffersen's diary

love to sleep. It's like being dead without the commitment

Wasted dreams, I suppose." "I don't think there's such a thing," Justin said. "Dreams have value

There are dreams that are meant to be shared and dreams to be kept hidden in our hearts. It's sometimes difficult to know which is which.

The assumption of time is one of humanity's greatest follies. We tell ourselves that there's always tomorrow, when we can no more predict tomorrow than we can the weather. Procrastination is the thief of dreams. Alan Christoffersen's diary

Do we have dreams, or do dreams have us?

I've come to know that what we want in life is the greatest indication of who we really are.

The assumption of time is one of humanity's greatest follies. We tell ourselves that there's always tomorrow, when we can no more predict tomorrow than we can the weather. Procrastination is the thief of dreams.

I'd love to be a saxophonist. I don't know why, but I pretend I'm the saxophonist when I listen to music. I have about as much chance playing the sax as I do learning how to fly.