We can imagine the books we'd like to read, even if they have not yet been written, and we can imagine libraries full of books we would like to possess, even if they are well beyond our reach, because we enjoy dreaming up a library that reflects every one of our interests and every one of our foibles--a library that, in its variety and complexity, fully reflects the reader we are.
Alberto ManguelTags: reading books dreams literature reader library
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
Tags: love poetry dreams sonnet-43 sonnet-xliii
There are symbolic dreams-- dreams that symbolize some reality. Then there are symbolic realities -- realities that symbolize a dream. Symbols are what you might call the honorary town councillors of the worm universe. In the worm universe, there is nothing unusual about a dairy cow seeking a pair of pliers. A cow is bound to get her pliers sometime. It has nothing to do with me.
Haruki MurakamiDon't run back inside, darlin', you know just what I'm here for. So you're scared and you're thinkin' we ain't that young any more...Show a little faith! There's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right.
Bruce SpringsteenTags: dreams
I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind. And this is one: I'm going to tell it - but take care not to smile at any part of it.
Emily BrontëTags: dreams
If one does die taking these drugs, the death is likely to be very peaceful. Morphia is, after all, the goddess of dreams.
Philip NitschkeI dreamed I was a single moment in a single day.
A note struck and vanished. A sounding. A reckoning. Gone.
Tags: dreams
A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.
Charles DickensTags: dreams
And the pebbles fight each other as rocks/And my father bends among them/Two hands outstretching up to me/Not that I can hear.
Joe StrummerAnd the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you? Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.
Cormac McCarthy« first previous
Page 11 of 165.
next last »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.