We become increasingly aware that the human dream, the human drama, with all its questionable, damaging, and often malevolent intention is not real life at all.
In my fool hardy youth, when my friends were dreaming of heroic deeds in the realms of engineering and law, finance and national politics, I dreamt of becoming a librarian.
Mary approaches her before she is able to reach her station. "Hello Lily. Get anything special for Christmas?" "Just the usual." She answers. "Shattered dreams.
If we, citizens, do not support our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination on the altar of crude reality and we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams.
They're similar to the human idea of the sandman. They used to help people sleep. Now they're more prone to creating nightmares that end in death." Lucky's description of the dream weavers.
To the mind that could dream and shape our beaconed universe, what is injustice to us may be unfathomable tenderness, and our horror only loveliness misunderstood.
I don't remember everything that happened, and I'm looking forward to the tale. But I know, I feel, that it was good. Even if I did die. It was a damn excellent dream.
If I was a cynic I would be wondering if sooner or later some charismatic douche-bag might stomp all over this Little House on the Prairie dream of yours.
A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks: “Aren’t you tired of waiting?” “Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.
I should never have dreamed of purpose, I am coming to the conclusion that privacy, the small individual lives of men, are preferable to all this inflated macrocosmic activity.
I've wished for things and never really had the chance...It's time to stop dreaming and do something about it. You've got to know what you want, then...go.
I was born to catch dragons in their dens / And pick flowers / To tell tales and laugh away the morning / To drift and dream like a lazy stream / And walk barefoot across sunshine days.
Heroic dreams are the consolation of the unhappy. After all, when people like us say we're being heroic, it usually means we're about to kill each other--or kill ourselves.
Ari smiled. The sun was shining, the weather was great, he was eating ice cream, and all his dreams were about to come true.
At liminality, at a transitional point between his last night dream and reality, he realizes he has made a big mistake and happiness is possible without death. (Coming back to himself.)
Dreams are composed of many things, my son. Of images and hopes, of fears and memories. Memories of the past, and memories of the future...
Hope for love, pray for love, wish for love, dream for love…but don’t put your life on hold waiting for love.
When God requires us to surrender one dream, it’s because He wants to hand us a bigger and better one.
I could never really manage to tell reality and my dream world apart, for the two of them co-existed together as they slid over top of each other.
All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
If Amazon’s dream of a world without gatekeepers becomes reality, then the company itself will become a powerful gatekeeper.
