Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
Africa, help me to go home, carry me like an aged child in your arms. Undress me and wash me. Strip me of all of these garments, strip me as a man strips off dreams when the dawn comes.
When you are old and gray and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face. And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. When you are Old.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decisions, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
To dream of being someone you're not, is a waste of the person you are.
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect.
Rhythm is one of the principal translators between dream and reality. Rhythm might be described as, to the world of sound, what light is to the world of sight. It shapes and gives new meaning. Rhythm was described by Schopenhauer as melody deprived of its pitch.
Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than Emperor's.
There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered, a Civilization gone with the wind.
Is it a fact - or have I dreamt it - that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time? Rather, the round globe is a vast head, a brain, instinct with intelligence!
Toil, feel, think, hope; you will be sure to dream enough before you die, without arranging for it.
I think there is something, more important than believing: Action! The world is full of dreamers, there aren't enough who will move ahead and begin to take concrete steps to actualize their vision.
I told Pattie that last night I dreamt that we had a press conference and nobody showed up. I am overwhelmed that so many of you are here.
A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.
Dreams never hurt anybody if you keep working right behind the dreams to make as much of them become real as you can.
Ideas must work through the brains and the arms of good and brave men, or they are no better than dreams.
Only in dreams of spring Shall I ever see again The flowering of my cherry trees.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.
Friends ... They are kind to each other's hopes. They cherish each other's dreams.
People who soar are those who refuse to sit back, sigh and wish things would change. They neither complain of their lot nor passively dream of some distant ship coming in. Rather, they visualize in their minds that they are not quitters; they will not allow life's circumstances to push them down and hold them under.
Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't.
O but we dreamed to mend Whatever mischief seemed To afflict mankind, but now That winds of winter blow Learn that we were crack-pated when we dreamed.
But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?
We don't have an eternity to realize our dreams, only the time we are here.
Reminiscing, with obvious emotion, on his long career: It has turned out a whole lot better than I ever, ever, ever dreamed.
History has proven, God has never given anyone a dream Without also including the power to achieve that dream; It is up to us to claim the power and go after that dream, Or just claim , it was only a dream.
Do not allow your dreams of a beautiful world to lure you away from the claims of men who suffer here and now. Our fellow men have a claim to our help; no generation must be sacrificed for the sake of future generations.
Sometimes you want to run away Sometimes you think you do But you never had a dream like this before And you don't want to ask for more Sometimes you leave a mark Before you know the score
Those for whom peace is no more than a dream are asleep to the future.
Vain vision! when the changing world each day Sees some such lordly pleasance pass away; When the mere stripling knows my symbols all Worn tokes, heaven hypothetical, Nature indifferent, and the dreams of men Figments of longing which we must condemn. Yet keep these plants, O Man! a kinder time May yet be moved by them to better rhyme, Or moved, like me, to place his pleasure low, On the firm Earth, whence Men and Blossoms grow.
If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in a shadowy world. When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City. Always I return home weary but I have the comforting certainty that mankind is real and I myself am not a dream.
The American dream does not happen by asking Americans to accept what's immoral and wrong in the name of tolerance.
Although the whole of this life were said to be nothing but a dream and the physical world nothing but a phantasm, I should call this dream or phantasm real enough, if, using reason well, we were never deceived by it.
We cannot look upon our lives as dreams of a dreamer who has no awakening in all time. We have a personality to which matter and force are unmeaning unless related to something infinitely personal, whose nature we have discovered, in some measure, in human love, in the greatness of the good, in the martyrdom of heroic souls, in the ineffable beauty of nature, which can never be a mere physical fact nor anything but an expression of personality.
The myth is the public dream and the dream is the private myth. If your private myth, your dream, happens to coincide with that of the society, you are in good accord with your group. If it isn't, you've got an adventure in the dark forest ahead of you.
Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will be as one.
What I dream is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling and depressing subject matter ... a shooting, calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.
A man to carry on a successful business must have imagination. He must see things as in a vision, a dream of the whole thing.
I had a dream my life would be different from this hell I am living, so different from what it seemed. Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.
All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.
Cabbages, whose heads, tightly folded see and hear nothing of this world, dreaming only on the yellow and green magnificence that is hardening within them.
Dreaming premits each of and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.
All men who have achieved great things have been great dreamers.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their grey visions they obtain glimpses of eternity.
And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.
All artists dream of a silence which they must enter, as some creatures return to the sea to spawn.
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.
The whole of the American Dream has been based on the chance to get ahead, for one's self or one's children. Would this country have ever reached the point it has if the individual had always been refused the rewards of his labors and dangers?
Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. Your vision is the promise of what you shall at last unveil.
Any book about gardens, written for the pleasure of writing, must have its sources in dreams. The visions of gardens beautiful and retired hover before the imagination, and no real garden, however humble, but is invested in celestial light of cherished hopes of what it may become in fragrant flowers or what it might have been had fortune been kind.
A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW The surging sea of human life forever onward rolls, And bears to the eternal shore its daily freight of souls; Tbough bravely sails our bark today, pale Death sits at the prow, And few shall know we ever lived a hundred years from now. O mighty human brotherhood Why fiercely war and strive, While God's great world has ample space for everything alive? Broad fields uncultured and unclaimed are waiting for the plow Of progress that shall make them bloom a hundred years from now. Why should we try so earnestly in life's short, narrow span, On golden stairs to climb so high above our brother man? Why blindly at an earthly shrine in slavish homage bow? Our gold will rust, ourselves be dust, a hundred years from now. Why prize so much the world's applause? Why dread so much its blame? A fleeting echo is its voice of censure or of fame; The praise that thrills the heart, the scom that dyes with shame the brow, Will be as long-forgotten dreams a hundred years from now. O patient hearts, that meekly bear your weary load of wrongl O earnest hearts, that bravely dare, and striving, grow more strong! Press on till perfect peace is won; you'll never dream of how You struggled o'er life's thorny road a hundred years from now. Grand, lofty souls, who live and toil that freedom, right and truth Alone may rule the universe, for you is endless youth. When 'mid the blest with God you rest, the grateful land shall bow Above your clay in reverent love a hundred years from now. Earth's empires rise and fall. Time! like breakers on thy shore They rush upon thy rocks of doom, go down, and are no more. The starry wilderness of worlds that gem night's radiant brow Will light the skies for other eyes a hundred years from now. Our Father, to whose sleepless eye the past and future stand An open page, like babes we cling to Tby protecting hand; Change, sorrow, death, are naught to us, if we may safely bow Beneath the shadow of Thy throne a hundred years from now.
The future ... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.
THE THINGS THAT HAVEN'T BEEN DONE BEFORE The things that haven't been done before, Those are the things to try; Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore At the rim of the far-flung sky, And his heart was bold and his faith was strong As he ventured in dangers new, And he paid no heed to the jeering throng Or the fears of the doubting crew. The things that haven't been done before, Are the tasks worthwhile today; Are you one of the flock that follows, or Are you one that shall lead the way? Are you one of the timid souls that quail At the jeers of a doubting crew, Or dare you, whether you win or fail, Strike out for a goal that's new?
The march of invention has clothed mankind with powers of which a century ago the boldest imagination could not have dreamt.
If we hope for what we are not likely to possess, we act and think in vain, and make life a greater dream and shadow than it really is.
It's better to lead with your dreams, than to be pushed by your problems.
There are powers inside of you, if you could discover and use, would make of you everything you ever dreamed or imagined you could become.
If I am unaware of love, I live drably. If I become intoxicated with love, I live in dreamland. If I recognize love, and shake his hand then comfort, dreams, and sometimes intoxication become mine to drench in and give away as well.
The machine can free man or enslave him; it can make of this world something resembling a paradise or a purgatory. Men have it within their power to achieve a security hitherto dreamed of only by the philosophers, or they may go the way of the dinosaurs, actually disappearing from the earth because they fail to develop the social and political intelligence to adjust to the world which their mechanical intelligence has created.
The world is a divine dream, from which we may presently awake to the glories and certainties of day.
Friends, such as we desire, are dreams and fables. Friendship demands the ability to do without it.
For glory gives herself only to those who have always dreamed of her.
We are odd compounds full of explosive material to which circumstances may at any time apply a spark, with results undreamed of even by those who thought they knew us best.
O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.
I have learned this at least by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
REALITY, n. The dream of a mad philosopher. That which would remain in the cupel if one should assay a phantom. The nucleus of a vacuum.
No longer conscious of my movement, I discovered a new unity with nature. I had found a new source of power and beauty, a source I never dreamt existed.
In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, And all her lovelier things even lovelier grow; Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies. When music sounds, out of the water rise Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, Rapt in strange dream burns each enchanted face, With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place. When music sounds, all that I was I am Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came; And from Time's woods break into distant song The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you, For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
Only as high as I reach can I grow, Only as far as I seek can I go, Only as deep as I look can I see, Only as much as I dream can I be.
REVEILLE, n. A signal to sleeping soldiers to dream of battlefields no more, but get up and have their blue noses counted.
Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page. They fade into the emptiness, another dark gray day. Dreams are only memories of the plans I had back then. Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen.
The search after the great men is the dream of youth, and the most serious occupation of manhood.
We need time to dream, time to remember, and time to reach the infinite. Time to be.
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
To fulfill a dream, to be allowed to sweat over lonely labor, to be given a chance to create, is the meat and potatoes of life. The money is the gravy.
They tell me: If you see a slave sleeping, do not wake him lest he be dreaming of freedom. I tell them: If you see a slave sleeping, wake him and explain to him freedom.
Man, alone, has the power to transform his thoughts into physical reality; man, alone, can dream and make his dreams come true.
The winner of the hoop race will be the first to realize her dream, not society's dream, her own personal dream.
We walk alone in the world. Friends, such as we desire, are dreams and fables.
To achieve the impossible dream, try going to sleep.
Every successful enterprise requires three men - a dreamer, a businessman, and a son of a bitch.
Perfect knowledge comes only when you see the world in yourself, just as he who awakes from the dream then knows he saw his dream-world with its suns and stars in himself.
The dream is real, my friends. The failure to realize it is the only reality.
Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.
Quoting Oprah Winfrey, TV personality, regarding the women pioneers: I have crossed over on the backs of Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman and Fannie Lou Hamer and Madame C.J. Walker. Because of them I can now live the dream. I am the seed of the free, and I know it. I intend to bear great fruit.
Popular art is the dream of society; it does not examine itself.
... books that ... distribute things ... with as daring a freedom as we use in dreams, put us on our feet again.
The decision ... was made some time ago, in fact, last January. Very honestly, I had never, ever, in my wildest dreams believed that I would ever do this. All I wanted to do was just play it out and when it was time to go, hang it up, take off and sail into the sunset somewhere.
An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual world.
Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor.
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one.
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
The ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.
This whole creation is essentially subjective, and the dream is the theater where the dreamer is at once: scene, actor, prompter, stage manager, author, audience, and critic.
We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so at the moment after death.
He dreamed he was eating shredded wheat and woke up to find the mattress half gone.
People don't come to church for preachments, of course, but to daydream about God.
Remember, the fantasy of today is the reality of tomorrow and lately, our tomorrows have been arriving faster than we had dreamed.
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
My Mama Moved Among the Days My Mama moved among the days like a dreamwalker in a field; seemed like what she touched was here seemed like what touched her couldn't hold, she got us almost through the high grass then seemed like she turned around and ran right back in right back on in
For the first time in your conscious memory; for the first time in fact, since your were a baby; a single tear, full and warm, rolled down your right cheek and you fell into a very deep and entirely dreamless slumber.
I have crossed over on the backs of Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman and Fannie Lou Hamer and Madame C.J. Walker. Because of them I can now live the dream. I am the seed of the free, and I know it. I intend to bear great fruit.
Climate helps to shape the character of peoples, certainly no people more than the English. The uncertainty of their climate has helped to make the English, a long-suffering, phlegmatic, patient people rather insensitive to surprise, stoical against storms,. slightly incredulous at every appearance of the sun, touched by the lyrical gratitude of someone who expects nothing and suddenly receives more than he dreamed.
Obviously one must hold oneself responsible for the evil impulses of one's dreams. In what other way can one deal with them? Unless the content of the dream rightly understood is inspired by alien spirits, it is part of my own being.
The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed Gray Truth is now her painted toy.
I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.
Each thing that exists remains forever, and that very existence of existence is proof of its eternity. But without that realization, which is the knowledge of perfect being, man would never know whether there was existence or non-existence. If eternal existence is altered, then it must become more beautiful; and if it disappears, it must return with more sublime image; and if it sleeps, it must dream of a better awakening, for it is ever greater upon its rebirth.
DREAMS All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind, Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people, For they dream their dreams with open eyes, And make them come true.
My serve was there, everything was just clicking. Those are the days you dream about, especially in a final.
Faith is indeed the energy of our whole universe directed to the highest form of being. Faith gives stability to our view of the universe. By faith we are convinced that our impressions of things without are not dreams or delusions, but, for us, true representations of our environment. By faith we are convinced that the signs of permanence, order, progress, which we observe in nature are true. By faith we are convinced that fellowship is possible with our fellow man and with God.
If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
To all, to each, a fair good-night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
Anyone who thinks that gardening begins in the spring and ends in the fall is missing the best part of the whole year. For gardening begins in January, begins with the dream.
Believe me when I tell you that thrift of time will repay you in after life, with a usury of profit beyond your most sanguine dreams; and that waste of it will make you dwindle, alike in intellectual and moral stature, beyond your darkest reckoning.
To achieve the marvelous, you must do the unthinkable ... the answer will hit, like a big psychic orgasm, if you listen to your dreams. They never lie.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
You gotta have a dream. If you don't have a dream, how ya gonna make a dream come true?
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream;
If ever I ate a good supper at night, I dreamed of the devil, and wak'd in a fright.
How many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares, were there a danger of their coming true!
We seem but to linger in manhood to tell the dreams of our childhood, and they vanish out of memory ere we learn the language.
Where others fear trade and economic growth, we see opportunities for creating new wealth and undreamed-of opportunities for millions in our own land and beyond. Where others seek to throw up barriers, we seek to bring them down; where others take counsel of their fears, we follow our hopes.
When you dream, you dialogue with aspects of yourself that normally are not with you in the daytime and you discover that you know a great deal more than you thought you did.
I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.
The point, as Marx saw it, is that dreams never come true.
Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not.
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
It's amazing how much time one can spend in a garden doing nothing at all. I sometimes think, in fact, that the nicest part of gardening is walking around in a daze, idly deadheading the odd dahlia, wondering where on earth to squeeze in yet another impulse buy, debating whether to move the recalcitrant artemisia one more time, or daydreaming about where to put the pergola.
We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake.
It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands.
Begin where you are; work where you are; the hour you are now wasting, dreaming of some far off success, may be crowded with grand possibilities.
If you are a dreamer, come in, If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer ... If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!
I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day goes round and round me. The night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without my reflection. And then let me dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my parrots.
However vague they are, dreams have a way of concealing themselves and leave us no peace until they are translated into reality, like seeds germinating underground, sure to sprout in their search for the sunlight.
It was one of those winter days that suddenly dream of spring, when the sky is blue and soft and clear, and the wind has dropped its voice and whispers instead of screaming, and the sun is out and the trees look surprised, and over everything there is the faintest, palest tint of green.
Our truest life is when we are in our dreams awake.
Language is the memory of man. Without it he has no past, a paltry present, and an empty future. With it he can bring his dreams to life.
It's really impossible for athletes to grow up. On the one hand, you're a child, still playing a game. But on the other hand, you're a superhuman hero that everyone dreams of being. No wonder we have such a hard time understanding who we are.
Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night.
Man no longer dreams over a book in which a soft voice, a constant companion, observes, exhorts, or sighs with him through the pangs of youth and age. Today he is more likely to sit before a screen and dream the mass dream which comes from outside.
All I know is that you won't come back until they're all dead. 'Eternity.' Every last one of them. Every man. Every woman. Every child. Global massacre. I dream about that day. A planet of corpses
Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself ... You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
In my career I have had many wonderful things happen to me, many more than I ever dreamed would ever happen. But I would like for you young brethren especially to know that all that has happened to me in my chosen profession is a mere drop in the bucket compared to the truly important things in my life. The testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ that I have, along with my wife and my family, are my most important possessions.
Dare to dream, dare to try, dare to fail, dare to succeed.
It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of tomorrow.
We do not really feel grateful toward those who make our dreams come true; they ruin our dreams.
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
Other people think they know what you are: glamour, sex, money, power, love. It may be a press agent dream which has nothing to do with you, maybe it's something you don't even like, but that's what they think you are. People rush at you from all sides, they think they're going to get these things if they touch you. It's scary, so you build walls around yourself, thick glass walls while you're trying to think, trying to catch your breath. You know who you are inside, but people outside see something different. You can choose to become the image, and let go of who you are, or continue as you are and feel phony when you play the image.
The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.
What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story, And the greatest good is little enough: for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.
Don't let the opinions of the average man sway you. Dream, and he thinks you're crazy. Succeed, and he thinks you're lucky. Acquire wealth, and he thinks you're greedy. Pay no attention. He simply doesn't understand.
By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes.
No political dreamer was ever wild enough to think of breaking down the lines which separate the States and compounding the American people into one common mass.
Soldier rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep thast knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking.
If you are not excited about your own dream, how can you expect anybody else to be?
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.
What if nothing exists and we're all in somebody's dream? Or what's worse, what if only that fat guy in the third row exists?
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! He hath awaken from the dream of life!
There are those who will say that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind, is nothing but a dream. They are right. It is the American Dream.
... mathematics is distinguished from all other sciences except only ethics, in standing in no need of ethics. Every other science, even logic, especially in its early stages, is in danger of evaporating into airy nothingness, degenerating, as the Germans say, into an arachnoid film, spun from the stuff that dreams are made of. There is no such danger for pure mathematics; for that is precisely what mathematics ought to be.
Which is the woman, which the child? The joyous laugh that opens doors, steals sugared moments from the shelf? Or the dreamer mixing metaphors with tears to make a book of self To read aloud in winter's rooms When summer's sounds have ceased to bloom?
Even if there's no such thing as free will, we have to treat each other as if there were free will in order to live together in society. Because otherwise, every time somebody does something terrible, you can't punish him, because he can't help it, because his genes or his environment or God made him do it, and every time somebody does something good, you can't honour him because he was a puppet, too. If you think that everybody around you is a puppet why bother talking to them at all? Why even try to plan anything or create anything, since everything you plan or create or desire or dream of is just acting out the script your puppeteer built into you.
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in.
All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.
As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and, as he read, he wept, and trembled; and, not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, What shall I do?
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, With vassals and serfs at my side.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart ... Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
With Shakespeare and poetry, a new world was born. New dreams, new desires, a self consciousness was born. I desired to know to know myself in terms of the new standards set by these books.
There is still today, and tomorrow fresh with dreams: Life never grows old.
I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart ... Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.
Truly fertile Music, the only kind that will move us, that we shall truly appreciate, will be a Music conducive to Dream, which banishes all reason and analysis. One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason.
A dream is just a dream. A goal is a dream with a plan and a deadline.