Quotes About Dreams

The city was asleep on its right side and shaking with violent nightmares. Long puffs of snoring came out of the chimneys. Its feet were sticking out because the clouds did not cover it altogether. There was a hole in them and the white feathers were falling out. The city had untied all its bridges like so many buttons to feel at ease. Wherever there was a lamplight the city scratched itself until it went out.

He worked on small canvases with a touch as light as a cobweb and coloring made of mirages. He lived there, at the bottom of the sea...

Men from the mountains always dream of the sea, and above all things I love to travel.

Films are like a dose of opium, then as you come out in the street it's a shock, and you are brutally awakened from your dream. But when you stay, you never wake up. The dream goes on working. I would fall asleep for a while and then see images on the screen, and I could not tell the difference between the film and a dream.

Strings of chili hung from the rafters, chili to wake them from their dreams, dreams born of scents and rhythms, and the warmth that fell from the sky like the fleeciest blanket.

I have dreamed of that over and over—I dancing with you, or you alone dancing with head thrown back and eyes half shut.

As if rising with her in his gyroscope of fantasy he took her to visit his collection of empty cages.

So illusion is delusion, and I have been Don Quixote, and nothing that I loved or dreamed existed. I am empty-handed now, a woman with an aching body. Lost. Weeping. Weeping. Saying yes to the analyst like a child.

Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.

The imaginary is what tends to become real.

Les choses les plus belles sont celles que souffle la folie et qu'écrit la raison. Il faut demeurer entre les deux, tout près de la folie quand on rêve, tout prêt de la raison quand on écrit.

Le rêve de demain est une joie, mais la joie de demain en est une autre, et rien heureusement ne ressemble au rêve qu'on s'en était fait; car c'est différemment que vaut chaque chose.

Les choses les plus belles sont celles que souffle la folie et qu'écrit la raison. Il faut demeurer entre les deux, tout près de la folie quand on rêve, tout près de la raison quand on écrit.

Big dreams, are so damn tiring.

How beautiful to dream. But dreams, I tell Gil, in one of our quiet moments are so damned tiring. He laughs. I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

Men dream things — because men must have that which is beyond human reckoning to satisfy the need for comfort and a hedge against fear.

I have just awoken, having dreamed of music. The final chord fades away within me while I try to focus on individuals amid the living, breathing mass packed into this vast waiting room, in this mixture of sleep and weariness.

Unable to transcend ego, to be naked inside and out, or being left alone because passion is burnt out and when it is burnt out it is over in an instant, the men use violence - capture, murder, violent revenge. Alienated because of their self-absorption, their thoughts of women are saturated with violence; they dream of violence when they think of the woman they want.

air castles are often within our grasp late in life, but then they charm not.

I glance into the faces of all these people out for a Sunday stroll, but I'm not seeing eyes and noses and mouths. I'm seeing stories. Every person has a story. All the hopes and dreams. And fears. And secrets. In every face.

Then he read the first sentence from the introduction: Without question this modern American dictionary is one of the most surprisingly complex and profound documents ever to be created, for it embodies unparalleled etymological detail, reflecting not only superb lexicographic scholarship, but also the dreams and speech and imaginative talents of millions of people over thousands of years—for every person who has ever spoken or written in English has had a hand in its making.

When you were a little girl, madam," he said, gesturing to her, "was this the woman you dreamed of becoming?

What ghost will visit our Hamlet tonight on the castle walls of his dreams? Surely not Robert Brownburn; even if there is a heaven where all animals and men are brought together in a mad reunion, atheists such as Robert will not return to us in phantom form—not because they reside in some celestial detention but out of pure stubbornness.