Again let us dream where the land lies sunny And live, like the bees, on our hearts' old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money-- Come, journey the way with me.
Like the dreams, Children of night, of indigestion bred.
And so, his senses gradually wrapt In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds, And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark; That singest like an angel in the clouds.
Dream after dream ensues; And still they dream that they shall still succeed; And still are disappointed.
Dream the impossible dream.
Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.
In blissful dream, in silent night, There came to me, with magic might, With magic might, my own sweet love, Into my little room above.
Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are something more than fictions.
And the dream that our mind had sketched in haste Shall others continue, but never complete. For none upon earth can achieve his scheme; The best as the worst are futile here: We wake at the self-same point of the dream,-- All is here begun, and finished elsewhere.
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And say, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold; Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said-- "What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head, And, with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
In dreams begins responsibility.
Dreams are necessary to life.
Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.
Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.
We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dream. Wandering by lone sea breakers, and sitting by desolate streams. World losers and world forsakers, for whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are movers and the shakers of the world forever it seems.
That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it... We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourselves.
If you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up.
Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time we need wages.
There is a fine line between dreams and reality, it's up to you to draw it.
A man's dreams are an index to his greatness.
So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.
Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real.
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams.