Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.
Even the wildest dreams have to start somewhere. Allow yourself the time and space to let your mind wander and your imagination fly.
Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.
Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.
In our dreams we are able to fly ... and that is a remembering of how we were meant to be.
In their dreams at night, people wander around as long as they sleep; just so, they are under the power of the snake Maya, as long as their hearts are filled with ego and duality.
People are never more insecure than when they become obsessed with their fears at the expense of their dreams.
The human imagination... has great difficulty in living strictly within the confines of a materialist practice or philosophy. It dreams, like a dog in its basket, of hares in the open.
Breaking free from extremely limited capacities of the present-day physical body and having gotten rid of the limits, a man may embark on a journey to a new knowledge, which is being born in his or her dreams. Nobody and nothing can stop such a man for he or she, having tasted freedom, has touched upon the capacities lying within a man. He or she has understood that life is a permanent creation of perfecting his or her soul through the world matter. It is only in this process that a man is implementing the plan of God
In the dark room a cloud of yellow dust flew from beneath the tool like a scatter of sparks from under the hooves of a galloping horse. The twin wheels turned and hummed. Binet was smiling, his chin down, his nostrils distended. He seemed lost in the kind of happiness which, as a rule, accompanies only those mediocre occupations that tickle the intelligence with easy difficulties, and satisfy it with a sense of achievement beyond which there is nothing left for dreams to feed on.
My young men shall never work, men who work cannot dream; and wisdom comes to us in dreams. You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mothers breast? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest. You ask me to dig for stone. Shall I dig under her skin for her bones? Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be born again. You ask me to cut grass and make hay and sell it and be rich like white men. But how dare I cut off my mother's hair.
People are learning to feel more comfortable hearing one another's dreams. It used to be that if you told a dream in public, someone had to make a joke to relieve the tension introduced by that alternative reality.
It is never easy to keep reaching for dreams. Strength and courage can sometimes be lonely friends. but those who reach, walk in stardust.
Back o'er the deep I turn my longing eyes,
And chide the wayward passions that rebel:
Yet boots it not to think, or to complain,
Musing sad ditties to the reckless main.
To dreams like these, adieu! the pealing bell
Speaks of the hour that stays notand the day
To life's sad turmoil calls my heart away.
I am but a draper in a room of wool, looking at the patterns, feeling like a fool. I'm going to take my fabric, stretch it to the seams, I want to find what's woven underneath these tailored dreams.
All your thoughts are in another head.
Your dreams are sleepin' in a different bed.
The force that moves you is a circular breath
of life and death going round and round and round.
I have always been amazed at the way an ordinary observer lends so much more credence and attaches so much more importance to waking events than to those occurring in dreams... Man... is above all the plaything of his memory.
You are the jailer and the jailed,
You the impaler and the one that your own
Million-fleshed self in dreams by night
do hold in thrall and now at noon must kill.
We know this apodictic rock beneath our feet. That dogmatic sun above our heads. The world of dreams, the agony of love and the foresight of death. That is all we know. And all we need to know? Challenge that statement.
I know how men in exile feed on dreams of hope.
And so they lived many happy years, and the promised tasks were accomplished. Yet long afterward, when all had passed away into distant memory, there were many who wondered whether King Taran, Queen Eilonwy, and their companions had indeed walked the earth, or whether they had been no more than dreams in a tale set down to beguile children. And, in time, only the bards knew the truth of it.
To desire is to obtain; to aspire is to, achieve. Shall man's basest desires receive the fullest measure of gratification, and his purest aspirations starve for lack of sustenance? Such is not the Law: such a condition of things can never obtain: "ask and receive."
Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. Your Vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your Ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil.
Good sex is impossible to write about. Lawrence and Updike have given it their all, and the result is still uneasy and unsure. It may be that good sex is something fiction just can't do like dreams. Most of the sex in my novels is absolutely disastrous. Sex can be funny, but not very sexy.
It is now time for our nation to frustrate the wild dreams of the whites.
Dada is for dreams, colourful paper masks, kettle drums, sound poems, concretions, poem statiques, for things that are not far from picking flowers and making bouquets.