dreams

I know a road that leads into a city, Also a lane that finds a cooling stream, Where ferns may look down at their green reflection And sway with the winds and dream- and dream. I know a path that leads into a forest, Lined with purple shadows of the night, While poplars bend somewhere along a hilltop Ringing their silver bells in quick delight. I know a trail that dances over hill-tops Reaching high for clouds that sail the blue, But best I know a path that leads me homeward- A lane that takes me home to friends- and you.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream.

Dreams have but one owner at a time. That is why dreamers are lonely.

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 is the individual only who is timeless. Societies, cultures, and civilizations - past and present - are often incomprehensible to outsiders, but the individual's hungers, anxieties, dreams, and preoccupations have remained unchanged through the millennia.

We do not really feel grateful toward those who make our dreams come true; they ruin our dreams.

You've got to create a dream. You've got to uphold the dream. If you can't, go back to the factory or go back to the desk.

Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple door.

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.

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I woke, and found that life was Duty. Was thy dream then a shadowy lie? Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly; And thou shalt find thy dream to be A truth and noonday light to thee.