Death, they say, acquits us of all obligations.
Everything that gets born dies.
Do the thing we fear, and death of fear is certain.
God grants an easy death only to the just.
For death is not the worst, but when one wants to die and is not able even to have that.
We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death.
To have died once is enough.
Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.
Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
You have to have a dream so you can get up in the morning.
My ideas are not meant to suggest dreams or reality, but a surreal quality.
The idea of having dreams that don't come true is really terrifying.
People need dreams, there's as much nourishment in 'em as food.
When we can't dream any longer we die.
Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.
No one may speak for the dead, no one may interpret their mutilated dreams and visions.
Only things the dreamers make live on. They are the eternal conquerors.
I still have dreams about CBGB's. I still miss the place.
Seems like half my anxiety dreams are about airports.
Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.
To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
