Quotes About Dreams

There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath … for here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still.

For here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming...

Como la gaviota sin tierra que, al atardecer, pliega las alas y se mece hasta dormirse entre el oleaje, al caer la noche el hombre de Nantucket, lejos de la tierra, recoge las velas y se echa a dormir, mientras bajo su almohada corren morsas y ballenas.

South Wind had been, in Marjorie's visions, a new clear world, a world where a grimy Bronx childhood and a fumbling Hunter adolescence were forgotten dreams, a world where she could at last find herself and be herself—clean, fresh, alone, untrammelled by parents. In a word, it had been the world of Marjorie Morningstar.

ESCH (sumido en sus pensamientos): En sueños, la verdad camina siempre con muletas... (Da un golpe sobre la mesa.) El mundo entero camina con muletas... Un aborto que cojea.

Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them.

an irresistible sleep fell deeply on his eyes, the sweetest, soundest oblivion, still as the sleep of death itself...

For double are the portals of flickering dreams. One set is made of horn, the other of ivory. And as for those that come through the sawn ivory, They deceive, carrying words that will not be fulfilled; But those that pass on outside through the polished horn Do fulfill the truth whenever any mortal sees them.

Sleep is sweet, whomever it seizes, though he has cares.

let not forgetfulness take you, after you are released from the kindly sweet slumber.

Tis the land of Fancy, and is of that pleasant kind that, when you tire of it,—whisk!—you clap the leaves of this book together and 'tis gone, and you are ready for every-day life, with no harm done.

children forever.

From those blurred and fragmentary memories we may infer much, yet prove little. We may guess that in dreams life, matter, and vitality, as the earth knows such things, are not necessarily constant; and that time and space do not exist as our waking selves comprehend them.

Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. Maybe it's not a place on the map at all, but just a story full of people you meet and places you visit, full of books and films you've been to. I'm not afraid of being homesick and having no language to live in. I don't have to be like anyone else. I'm walking on the wall and nobody can stop me.

It was one of those fine little love stories that can make you smile in your sleep at night.

It was like falling down an elevator shaft and landing in a pool full of mermaids.

In San Francisco - life goes on. Hope rises and dreams flicker and die. Love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of yesterday. Life is beautiful and living is pain. The sound of music floats down a dark street. A young girl looks out a window and wishes she were married. A drunk sleeps under a bridge. It is tomorrow.

He remembers night, sleep, the bed, their shared comas, A certain source of fondness in the night. (She saw, no, expected, a dawn from every light. Such was her fault)

for all its apparent speed, the ship was almost perfectly silent, and he experienced an enervating, eerie feeling, as though the ancient warship, mothballed all those centuries, had somehow not yet fully woken up, and events within its sleek hull still moved to another, slower tempo, made half of dreams.

Felix had gone to live in a lotus land of his imagination. Where what is desired is dreamed of as already happened, where obstacles dissolve under the weight of desire, and where reality has vanished entirely.

Father is a school manqué ... He always wanted to write books. But he became rich instead, so is not allowed.

What a strange thing, to build a castle in the air. We made a friendship out of nothing, because nothing was the heart of what we shared.

A Greek has twenty-five centuries of painful history to keep his dreams in check, but there's nothing more dangerous than to give an American hope. The

You are about to awake when you dream that you are dreaming.