Quotes About Dream

Our lives are enriched by generosity, forgiveness, and magnanimity. It is only when the cultivation of these virtues is motivated by the dream of salvation by someone else that these virtues become problematic.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.

He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

Mirage" The hope I dreamed of was a dream, Was but a dream; and now I wake, Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old, For a dream's sake. I hang my harp upon a tree, A weeping willow in a lake; I hang my silent harp there, wrung and snapped For a dream's sake. Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.

It's small wonder that humans dream in myth and in art about other worlds, because we all have the experience of inhabiting one world and, as we are taught language, of walking through a door into another. Even physicists are obsessed with the idea of a multiverse. But we already live in one.

Life is a very beautiful dream. I'm so glad I chose not to wake up from it just yet

Your life, sir, is propelled By a dream of the fear of having nightmares; your love Is the fear of being alone; your world's history The fear of a possible leap by a possible antagonist Out of a possible shadow, or a not-improbable Skeleton out of your dead-certain cupboard.

Your life, sir, is propelled By a dream of the fear of having nightmares; your love Is the fear of your single self; your world's history The fear of a possible leap by a possible antagonist Out of a possible shadow, or a not-improbable Skeleton out of your dead-certain cupboard. But here am I, the true phenomenon Of acknowledged guilt, steaming with the block Of the pimp and the rag-and-bone man, Crime transparent. What the hell are we waiting for?

I always wanted to be a mom.

I fell asleep reading a dull book, and I dreamed that I was reading on, so I awoke from sheer boredom.

I'm leaving the screen because I don't think I am very good in the pictures and I have this beautiful dream that I'm elegant on the stage.

I just stuffed it into the container of my dream.

It is part of Elvis's enduring fascination to so many that his life story is always more than that; it is also a take (celebratory, critical, twisted) upon the American dream. To think about Elvis is to think about America: its history and its values.

maybe she grew one more in the night and that's why the night sleep was so deep, it was a matching pair of sleeps. —

Then let the Son of God awaken from his sleep, and opening his holy eyes return again to bless the world he made. In error it began. But it will end in the reflection of his holiness. And he will sleep no more and dream of death.

it's about conveying the image of where you want to be, not where you are.

He fell back. He had cried out so loud that even if there had been no breach in the wall, I should have heard him in my room. He voiced his whole dream, he threw it out passionately. This sincerity, which was indifferent to everything, had a definite significance which bruised my heart. "Forgive me. Forgive me. It is almost a blasphemy. I could not help it." He stopped. You felt his will-power making his face calm, his soul compelling him to silence, but his eyes seem to mourn.

There is an attraction for you which does not exist for me, since I do not feel any pleasure. You see, we are making a bargain. You give me a dream, I give you joy. But all this is not love.

Music is harmony, harmony is perfection, perfection is our dream, and our dream is heaven.

Extending his hands from his bed, Plume was astonished not to feel the wall: "Well," he concluded, "the ants must have eaten it away." And he went back to sleep. Shortly thereafter, his wife shook him awake: "Take a good look, lazybones! While you were so busy sleeping, someone went and stole our house!" And indeed, stretching out on every side there was nothing but solid sky. "So it goes," he thought.

Writing separates the dream from the fear; writing about your anxiety makes it an entity existing outside of your goal.

If music thus carries us to heaven, it is because music is harmony, harmony is perfection, perfection is our dream, and our dream is heaven.

The moon will press her dimpled cheek Against the bosom of the sky, And, as we dreamed once, seem to speak To silver clouds which drift them by.

Chaos was the law of nature; Order was the dream of man.