#d

If the girl of my dreams want a man with a hairless chest, I better dream of another girl ↗

— Haresh Daswani

#dreams

Can you hear the dreams crackling like a campfire? Can you hear the dreams sweeping through the pine trees and tipis? Can you hear the dreams laughing in the sawdust? Can you hear the dreams shaking just a little bit as the day grows long? Can you hear the dreams putting on a good jacket that smells of fry bread and sweet smoke? Can you hear the dreams stay up late and talk so many stories? ↗

— Sherman Alexie

#dreams

Batas antara mimpi dan kenyataan itu tipis. Yang membuatnya jauh adalah ketidakpercayaan kita kepada kekuatan mimpi itu sendiri. ↗

— Darwin Boy Sxander

#dreams

Ghosts Take shape under moonlight, materialize in dreams. Shadows. Silhouettes of what is no more. But ghosts don't bother me. The day brings bigger things to worry about than flimsy remains of yesterday. No, spooks don't scare me. Gauzy apparitions might prank your psyche or agitate your nightmares, but lacking flesh and blood they are powerless to hurt you-cannot hope to inflict the kind of damage that real, live people do. ↗

— Ellen Hopkins

#dreams

If you're still hanging onto a dead dream of yesterday, laying flowers on its grave by the hour, you cannot be planting the seeds for a new dream to grow today ↗

— Joyce Chapman

#dreams

Memory runs along deep, fixed channels in the brain, like electricity along its conduits; only a cataclysm can make the electrons rear up in shock and slide over into another channel. The human mind seems doomed to believe, as simply as a rooster believes, that where we are now is the only possibility ↗

— Barbara Kingsolver

#dreams

Did you know I dream about your hair? I use to say it was the color of the sun at sunset, but I'm wrong. It's brighter than the sun, just as you are. ↗

— Julia Quinn

#dreams

أصحاب العقول العظيمة لديهم أهداف وغايات، أما الآخرون فيكتفون بالأحلام. ↗

— واشطن إرفنج

#dream #life #mind #الحياة #الطموح

I dream that I have found us both again, With spring so many strangers' lives away, And we, so free, Out walking by the sea, With someone else's paper words to say.... They took us at the gates of green return, Too lost by then to stop, and ask them why- Do children meet again? Does any trace remain, Along the superhighways of July? ↗

— Thomas Pynchon

#dreams

People are continually pointing out to me the wretchedness of white people in order to console me for the wretchedness of blacks. But an itemized account of the American failure does not console me and it should not console anyone else. That hundreds of thousands of white people are living, in effect, no better than the "niggers" is not a fact to be regarded with complacency. The social and moral bankruptcy suggested by this fact is of the bitterest, most terrifying kind. ↗

— James Baldwin

#dreams