I heard the sighing of the reedsAt noontide and at evening,And some old dream I had forgottenI seemed to be remembering.
There is not a dream which may not come true, if we have the energy which makes, or chooses, our own fate.... It is only the dreams of those light sleepers who dream faintly that do not come true.
I had my dreams of Venice, but nothing that I had dreamed was as impossible as what I found.
God, like all highest things, Hides light in shade, And in the night his visitings To sleep and dreams are clearliest made.
Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears, A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
Vaguely conscious of that great suspense in which we live, we find our escape from its sterile, annihilating reality in many dreams, in religion, passion, art.