Quotes About Dreams

Dichiaro solennemente di non saperne nulla, ma dico che la vista delle stelle, mi fa sognare tanto semplicemente quanto quei punti neri che nelle carte geografiche rappresentano città e villaggi. E mi dico: perché i punti luminosi del firmamento dovrebbero esserci meno accessibili che i punti neri della carta di Francia?

I dream my painting and I paint my dream.

The real aim of romance is to provide escape and entertainment.

There are two gates of Sleep. One is of horn, easy of passage for the shades of truth; the other, of gleaming white ivory, permits false dreams to ascend to the upper air.

Death's brother, sleep.

Death's brother, sleep.

It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.

Recall the old story of the rather refined young man who preferred sex dreams to visiting brothels because he met a much nicer type of girl that way.

Sleep is the most moronic fraternity in the world, with the heaviest dues and the crudest rituals.

Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.

The Cloths of Heaven Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light; I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

The designs used by the Indians were partly geometric and were usually based on dreams of the owner. Often the owner's totem was painted on the door flap.

This one is a rocket, Bailey," Ethan told me, showing me a toy shaped like a stick. But what use was a sticklike thing that smelled too bad to chew? I turned my nose away. "We're going to land one on the moon one day, and then people will live there, too. Do you want to be a space dog?

Aim for the moon. If you miss, you may hit a star.

Definition of a College professor: someone who talks in other people's sleep.

A professor is someone who talks in someone else's sleep.

Sin sueños no hay vida!

If you build it, he will come.

We know their dream; enough To know they dreamed and are dead; And what if excess of love Bewildered them till they died?

Is this my dream, or the truth? O would that we had met When I had my burning youth; But I grow old among dreams, A weather-worn, marble triton Among the streams.

The last stroke of midnight dies. All day in the one chair From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged In rambling talk with an image of air: Vague memories, nothing but memories.

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

The woods of Arcady are dead, And over it their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Gray Truth is now her painted toy.

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Thread softly because you tread on my dreams.