Quotes About Dreams

Maybe. Anyway, some men get what they want. No man. Or perhaps only briefly so as to lose it. Or perhaps only to prove to the dreamer that the world of his longing made real is no longer that world at all.

Ten thousand dreams ensepulchred within their crozzled hearts.

He said the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and death

The incinerate corpses shrunk to the size of a child and propped on the bare springs of the seats. Ten thousand dreams ensepulchred within their crozzled hearts.

If we do not know ourselves in the waking world, what chance in dreams?

All his early dreams were the same. Something was afraid and he had come to comfort it.

the beast who dreams of man and has so dreamt in running dreams a hundred thousand years and more. Dreams of that malignant lesser god come pale and naked and alien to slaughter all his clan and kin and rout them from their house. A god insatiable whom no ceding could appease nor any measure of blood.

In the night's in their thousands to dream the dreams of a child's imaginings, worlds rich or fearful such as might offer themselves but never the one to be.

And he no longer cared to tell which were things done and which dreamt.

Cuando sueñes con un mundo que nunca existió o con un mundo que no existirá y estés contento otra vez entonces te habrás rendido. ¿Lo entiendes? Y no puedes rendirte. Yo no lo permitiré.

Our waking life's desire to shape the world to our convenience invites all manner of paradox and difficulty. All in our custody seethes with an inner restlessness. But in dreams we stand in this great democracy of the possible and there we are right pilgrims indeed. There we go forth to meet what we shall meet.

The more naive your life the more frightening your dreams. Your unconscious will keep trying to wake you. In every sense. Imperilment is bottomless. As long as you are breathing you can always be more scared.

los sueños correctos para un hombre en peligro eran sueños de peligro y que lo demás era sólo la llamada de la languidez y de la muerte.

Ten thousand dreams ensepulchered within their crozzled hearts.

They say that women dream of danger to those in their care and men of danger to themselves.

In the nights in their thousands to dream the dreams of a child's imaginings, worlds rich or fearful such as might offer themselves but never the one to be.

En sus sueños su pálida novia iba hacia él desde una verde bóveda de ramas. Sus pezones como de marga y sus costillas pintadas de blanco. Llevaba un vestido de gasa y sus cabellos oscuros estaban recogidos con peinetas de marfil, peinetas de concha. Su sonrisa, su mirada baja. Por la mañana volvía a nevar. Cuentas de hielo gris en ristra sobre los cables de electricidad.

They say that women dream of danger to those in their care and men of danger to themselves. But I dont dream at all.

And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you? Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly.

His dreams brightened. The vanished world returned.

Of such dreams and of the rituals of them there can also be no end. The thing that is sought is altogether other. However it may be construed within men's dreams or by their acts it will never make a fit. These dreams and these acts are driven by a terrible hunger. They seek to meet a need which they can never satisfy, and for that we must be grateful.

Who can dream of God? This man did. In his dreams God was much occupied. Spoken to He did not answer. Called to did not hear. The man could see Him bent at his work. As if through a glass. Seated solely in the light of his own presence. Weaving the world. In his hands it flowed out of nothing and in his hands it vanished into nothing once again. Endlessly.

He said the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and of death.

Who can dream of God? This man did. In his dreams God was much occupied. Spoken to He did not answer. Called to did not hear. The man could see Him bent at his work. As if through a glass. Seated solely in the light of his own presence. Weaving the world. In his hands it flowed out of nothing and in his hands it vanished into nothing once again. Endlessly. Endlessly.