Dream Quotes - Page 523

My dream would be to be on a show that shoots in New York, because I live here, and then I could walk to work.

Know, my son, that the enemy will always be with you. He will be in the shadow of your dreams and in your living flesh, for he is the other part of yourself.

In his fairy dreams of war [Thaddeus] always made conquest the sure end of his battles.

Cheyenne Jackson is just a dream.

Every time my dreams threaten to become reality, something always happens and I end up alone.

I got to Africa. I got the opportunity to go and learn, not about any animal, but chimpanzees. I was living in my dream world, the forest in Gombe National Park in Tanzania. It was Tanganyika when I began.

When I was a child, the African forest sounded like a dream to me, because it was full of animals and it was wild.

There's no artist in this world that doesn't enjoy the dream that if they have bad reviews now, the story of Keats can redeem them, in their fantasy or imagination, in the future. I think Keats' poem 'Endymion' is a really difficult poem, and I'm not surprised that a lot of people pulled it apart in a way.

Dreams change, yes, that makes sense, but I didn't know dreams could hide inside a person.

I secretly liked acting, but I wanted to play football. It was an enormous dream.

It was a dream come true to be drafted by a pro team and have the opportunity to play.

It makes you a better person to know where you came from, because whereever you go, there is somebody in some town, city, hamlet, whatever, that has the same dreams you have.

I love photography, I love food, and I love traveling, and to put those three things together would just be the ultimate dream.

Wouldn't that be nice if we could all afford to just freely pursue our dreams?

Some men enjoy the constant strife Of days with work and worry rife, But that is not my dream of life: I think such men are crazy. For me, a life with worries few, A job of nothing much to do, Just pelf enough to see me through: I fear that I am lazy.

I made a note in my head to be aware of things as they were happening, because they might not happen again. Up to that point, I was not really that appreciative of what was going on, or thinking about documenting life in a plainspoken manner. I was talking about my life and writing songs, but then I would go back and listen and they were about dreams, and legends, and metaphors and that was just not my life!

The dreams are the skeleton of all reality.

Imagination, where it is truly creative, is a faculty, and not a quality; it looks before and after, it gives the form that makes all the parts work together harmoniously toward a given end, its seat is in the higher reason, and it is efficient only as a servant of the will. Imagination, as it is too often misunderstood, is mere fantasy, the image-making power, common to all who have the gift of dreams.

When one wakes up in the morning, one's whole life is neatly laid out, consistent with the past, to the degree that we even (apparently) remember the same language spoken the day before, suggesting previous experience had simply entered a dormant state.

It was like meeting someone out of your dreams, or fantasies, or a beloved character from a favorite book.

Dreams don't die until we let them.

Once in a while, our thoughts drift and fade, back into the recessed hiding places where our memories are stored. At times we recall them- the memories of our loves, our youths, our life experiences. These dreams appear to us, and for seconds, minutes, or hours we are there once again.

When ladies used to come to me in dreams, I said, 'Pretty mother, pretty mother.' But when at last she really came, I shot her.

And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the night-nursery to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did not believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so often in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around her still.

There are many different kinds of bravery. There's the bravery of thinking of others before one's self. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens. But he has made many sacrifices for his family, and put away many dreams... He put them in a drawer. And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer... He does. And that is why he is brave.