Quotes About Dreams

As a child in the dark days of the Cultural Revolution, I dreamed of being a painter. My art teacher warned me that paintings could land a person behind bars, especially portraits, and advised me to stick to anodyne landscapes.

Dorme, dorme, meu menino Dorme no Mar dos Sargaços Que mais vale o mar a pino Que as serpentes nos meus braços.

There's always time to launch your dreams

We are all strangers in a strange land, longing for home, but not quite knowing what or where home is. We glimpse it sometimes in our dreams, or as we turn a corner, and suddenly there is a strange, sweet familiarity that vanishes almost as soon as it comes.

The young man murmured in his sleep and said, "Dear Sparrow," and Sparrow felt, for the first time, how the purest joy could be a heaviness.

Tomorrow begins from another dawn, when we will be fast asleep.

I could have told him more, of the dreams that left me bleary and bloodshot, the almost-screams that scraped my throat as I swallowed them down. The way the stars turned and turned through the night above my unsleeping eyes.

I haunt their dreams. Do not leave, I beg them. Not until you have given me peace. But if anyone hears, they do not answer.

Our goddess of the moon is gifted with magic, with power over the dead. She could banish the dreams, if she wished. She did not.

Death's Brother is the name that poets give to sleep

When I was a boy and everyone played at wrestling monsters like Heracles, I dreamed of being Daedalus instead. It seemed the greater genius to look at raw wood and iron, and imagine marvels.

She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm and heavy and the sparkling darkness behind her lids became ordered and doors opened; when conscious thought grew owl's wings and talons and became other than conscious.

Ci sono persone che sognano il successo e altre che restano sveglie per ottenerlo.

Ter que pagar pelos próprios sonhos deve ser o pior dos desesperos.

Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.

If you had permission to do what you really want to do, what would you do?

The warrior learns to master the art of holding fast to dreams while accepting the rigors of becoming the kind of man who can be entrusted with those dreams;

Listen to your own heart and the hearts of the women you know. What is it that a woman wants? What does she dream of?

We should not let our fears hold us back from pursuing our hopes.

Life on the run was filled with dreams, some at night during sleep, real dreams, and some when the mind was awake but drifting. Most were terrifying, the nightmares of the shadows growing bolder and larger. Others were pleasant wishes of a rosy future, free of the past. These were rare, Patrick had learned. Life on the run was life in the past. There was no closure

Percy had never owned a ball or a glove or a bat, had never played catch with his dad, had never dreamed of beating the Yankee. In fact he'd probably never dreamed of leaving the cotton patch. That thought was almost overwhelming.

She was forty-one years old, and she was tired. But the fatigue would pass. The old dreams of full-time motherhood and a cushy retirement were forever forgotten.

Oh, yes. Nonstop. She wants to run away to Paris and study art. She wants to run away to LA and live with March, her older sister. She wants to run away to Santa Fe and become a painter. She wants to run away, period.

Ambition robs you of your childhood. The moment you want to become an adult—in any way—something in your childhood dies.