Quotes About Dreams

A good piece of fiction, in my view, does not offer solutions. Good stories deal with our moral struggles, our uncertainties, our dreams, our blunders, our contradictions, our endless quest for understanding. Good stories do not resolve the mysteries of the human spirit but rather describe and expand up on those mysteries.

Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are.

But truly it was not the money that mattered. It was the distant glitter of everything that was possible in the world, the things she had always wanted for herself and could not name and called happiness because there was no other word.

Mi always thought of him as living in a body one size smaller than his being - part of him always rushing forward beyond the rest of him, leaving part of him behind. [...] Skin-tight, expressionless - and your self made up of dreams and stories - Boy Carlton - Boy Balfour - Boy Hannay. I know all your heroes, my dear one - I gave you the books in which you found them.

Ichigo…there were so many things I wanted to do. Become a teacher…or an astronaut…or open a pastry shop…or go to Mr. Donuts and say "Give me one of each!" …or go to Baskin Robbins and say, "Give me one of each!" Sigh… if only there were five of me! Then I could be born in five different towns…and eat five different meals…and have five different jobs…and all five of me…could fall in love with the same guy.

ambition on a beer budget.

These people were so self-destructively open, so afraid to offend those who would just as soon see them and their children dead and their entire cultures destroyed. It was a pleasing vision, Mohammed thought, but he didn't live within dreams. Instead, he worked for them. This struggle would last longer than his lifetime.

Real dreams are about seeing what others miss. If you have your head in the clouds, you can see the world more clearly. Maybe this is why so many poets and visionaries die young or drink heavily—it is painful when you can see the truth up close. It can be unbearable.

You know what I mean? Real and unreal, beautiful and strange, like a dream. It got me high as a kite, but it didn't last long enough. It ended too soon and left nothing behind." That's how it is with dreams," said Priscilla. "They're the perfect crime.

All dreams continue in the beyond.

Faites de beaux rêves, monsieur, she called as she put out the light. Switters had always loved that expression, Make fine dreams. In contrast to the English, Have sweet dreams, the French implied that the sleeper was not a passive spectator, a captive audience, but had some control over and must accept some responsiblity for his or her dreaming. Moreover, a fine dream had much wider connotations than a sweet one.

On their sofas of spice and feathers, the concubines also slept fretfully. In those days the Earth was still flat, and people dreamed often of falling over edges.

Once, in a spasm of sappiness, you asked Q-Jo if she thought your dreams would ever come true. 'You aren't talking about dreams,' she corrected you, 'you're referring to your pathetic bourgeoisie ambitions. Dreams don't come true. Dreams are true.

their kiss was like a paper airplane landing on the moon.

It was wonderful, Pris. What was, honey? The meeting? The champagne? The eclipse, said Ricki. It was probably the most real thing I've ever seen, but it was also like a dream. You know what I mean? Real and unreal, beautiful and strange, like a dream. It got me high as a kite, but it didn't last long enough. It ended too soon and left nothing behind. That's how it is with dreams, said Priscilla. They're the perfect crime.

That's the value of the artist... Even when they aren't aware, they're dreaming our dreams for us.

Half Asleep in Frogg pajamas.

The rodent of ecstasy sings by my bedside.

Nonetheless, the fiery dreams did fade, and inside rooms made of clay and painted blue, sweeter visions were nourished.

It was encouraging that he would mention a contemporary female, for Pan had begun to live in his memories, an unhealthy symptom in anyone, suggesting as it does that life has peaked. Every daydream that involves the past sports in its hatband a ticket to the grave.

That's the value of artists, isn't it? Even when they aren't aware of it, they're dreaming our dreams for us.

By why, Ligurinus, alas why this unaccustomed tear trickling down my cheek? – why does my glib tongue stumble to silence as I speak? At night I hold you fast in my dreams, I run after you across the Field of Mars, I follow you into the tumbling waters, and you show no pity.

One shouldnt ask oneself how a person flies or why, but simply start flying.

I dream a dream that dreams back at me