- Dreams are the seedlings of realities. James Allen
- “Then Deborah stood at the wicket gate, the boundary, and there was a woman with outstretched hand, demanding tickets. “Pass through,” she said when Deborah reached her. “We saw you coming.” The wicket gate became a turnstile. Deborah pushed against it and there was no resistance, she was through. “What is it?” she asked. “Am I really here at last? Is this the bottom of the pool?” “It could be,” smiled the woman. “There are so many ways. You just happened to choose this one.” Other people were pressing to come through. They had no faces, they were only shadows. Deborah stood aside to let them by, and in a moment they had gone, all phantoms. “Why only now, tonight?” asked Deborah. “Why not in the afternoon, when I came to the pool?””It’s a trick,” said the woman. “You seize on the moment in time. We were here this afternoon. We’re always here. Our life goes on around you, but nobody knows it. The trick’s easier by night, that’s all.” “Am I dreaming, then?” asked Deborah.”No,” said the woman, “this isn’t a dream. And it isn’t death, either. It’s the secret world.” The secret world… It was something Deborah had always known, and now the pattern was complete. The memory of it, and the relief, were so tremendous that something seemed to burst inside her heart. “Of course…” she said, “of course…” and everything that had ever been fell into place. There was no disharmony. The joy was indescribable, and the surge of feeling, like wings about her in the air, lifted her away from the turnstile and the woman, and she had all knowledge. That was it – the invasion of knowledge. (“The Pool”)” ― Daphne du Maurier, Echoes from the Macabre: Selected Stories
- “The cloud is my sister, the wind a brother to me.” ― Abramek Koplowicz
- “Am I a mindless fool? My life is a fragment, a disconnected dream that has no continuity. I am so tired of senselessness. I am tired of the music that my feelings sing, the dream music.” ― Ross David Burke, When the Music’s Over: My Journey into Schizophrenia
- “I have the mind of Christ. The best life you could ever live is the one that your creator destined you for. The one He made you for. He has given us everything we need ……… to become like Him. To reach to your potentials. Worship Him in spirit and in truth.” ― Patience Johnson, Why Does an Orderly God Allow Disorder
- “There are five important things for living a successful and fulfilling life: never stop dreaming, never stop believing, never give up, never stop trying, and never stop learning.” ― Roy Bennett
- To understand the heart and mind of a person, look not at what he has already achieved, but at what he aspires to. Kahlil Gibran
- When we are dreaming alone it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality. Dom Helder Camara
- “Enrich your life. Dream, explore and discover the unknown lands with new eyes, new lights and new truths.” ― Amit Ray, Peace Bliss Beauty and Truth: Living with Positivity
- “What am I to do?What is my destiny?I have no idea, not a clueFeeling lost and empty.What is my dream?What is my future?I beg thee to listen to me,I beg thee to answer.” ― Atarah L. Poling, Hidden Light
- It was all a dream. The Notorious B.I.G.
- “In my dream I know I am falling. But there is no up or down, no walls or sides or ceilings, just the sensation of cold and darkness everywhere. I am so scared I could scream. But when I open my mouth, nothing happens. And I wonder if you fall forever and never touch down, is it really still falling? I think I will fall forever.” ― Lauren Oliver, Before I Fall
- “Selalu ada impian yang lebih besar dari impian lain, kan?” ― Windry Ramadhina
- “Nobody will value you unless you show them how valuable you are” ― Anuj Jasani
- “As I watched the sky morph shades of amber and amethyst, of fiery orange and smoldering pink, I always wondered if colors and images like these once inspired the greats before us to construct their beauty and masterpieces.” ― Hubert Martin
- “Every bad dream / imagination is responsible for the suicide of a person!” ― Sajal Ahmed, Maxim Maxim
- “Feeling weak is a sign of life, but submitting to that weakness is a sign of death.” ― Abhijit Naskar, Servitude is Sanctitude
- “I used to think meditation served the purpose of clearing my mind of dreams. Good and bad, dreams do affect us in our daily mood. Now I wonder if meditation unlocks them, utilizes the wisdom that has been sent to us by our subconscious.” ― Robert Black
- “I had a dream that I was being drowned in a flood and I realized it was a flood of people.” ― Ellen Burstyn
- “If you trust in yourself. . .and believe in your dreams. . .and follow your star. . . you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy.” ― Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men
- “The promise of a dreamer’s future will always remain greater than their present ability. God will always give them dreams that are further along than their current level of maturity.” ― Wayne Cordeiro
- “Dream is the realm most people live their life.” ― Sunday Adelaja, How To Become Great Through Time Conversion: Are you wasting time, spending time or investing time?
- People will laugh at your dreams then hate you when you make them come true. Lance Allred
- “Pitting your dream against someone else’s is a fantastic way to get discouraged and depressed.” ― Jon Acuff, Quitter: Closing the Gap Between Your Day Job & Your Dream Job
- “For every light there was a shadow, for every dream, a nightmare.” ― Amber R. Duell, Dream Keeper
- “I’m very down to Earth, I’m just not from this Earth.” ― Karl Lagerfeld
- “I had a dream about you. You looked like you, but you also looked like a mannequin. And I looked like me, but I also looked like a mannequin. Between the two of us, we were too fake even for Hollywood. And as such, we were forced to reside in Washington DC. ” ― Dark Jar Tin Zoo, I Had a Dream About You
- “There’s only one place I want to go and it’s to all the places I’ve never been.” ― Nikki rowe
- “She was a mimicry of a facade fashioned from the half-truths of her life. She was a beautiful abomination, patched together from the most pristine and terrible parts she could find. She was a black crystal of many cuts and facets whose dark glow suffocated and entranced those it washed over. There was a pointlessness in her eyes and apathy in her stature, and further in, past the symphonies of nightmarish screams was a blinding light. All the capability she could ever ask for kept in a place she would never reach. She chose the ice rather than the fire, shivering and hard with heat sparse, for while a flicker can exist in freeze’s cold, it’s heat will not radiate, no matter how bold. She took my face in hands that would make ice seem warm and whispered a blizzard into my ear, a cascading song of fear after fear. The lies she spilled, mixed with regrets and appeal, were cloaked in the inferno of her rage, the anger, the only thing that really made her real. This was her one semblance of life, a bottomless and endless void of proportions vast with a calamity of fusion and fission streaking through, a mindless hue, an emotion with a face, a darling of her race. The cracks spew darkness from within her ever so pale skin. They congregated on her curves and flesh in black and churning rivers and streams. They flooded every dip with blackness. They filled every hollow with unstable curiosity, this is her release, this is when she is free. The faces of deceit always laugh, they never wallow for their lies are a pleasure tool, her insides are contorted in laughter the same way, just as slick, just as cruel. A crude combination of fascination, of animation, of the darkest demons of them all. She was poetry written in pen, scratched and scribbled again and again. Ink splattered across the page, and within those scrawled words, those small, sharp incisions, an image can be seen, and you’re left to wonder what, in the end, this all could mean…” ― Hubert Martin
- “The Perfectionist pushed Tom onto her bed. She took off his shirt. She took off his shoes and his socks. She took off his pants. She took off his boxers.With most guys the Perfectionist would stop there. She didn’t. She was still feeling reckless. She took off his skin. She took off his nervous system. She lifted up his rib cage. His heart beat in her hand. And there, underneath it, she found a rusted tin box. She opened it. Inside she found his hopes, his dreams and his fears. She stared at them. She was surprised to find them there and surprised at how beautiful they were. At that exact moment, the Perfectionist fell in love with Tom.” ― Andrew Kaufman, All My Friends are Superheroes