#dr

Dreams of innocence are just that; they usually depend on a denial of reality that can be its own form of hubris. ↗

— Michael Pollan

#hubris #innocense #dreams

The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass. ↗

— Wendell Berry

#poetry #dreams

Dreaming is a world where wishes do not exist ; because dreaming is a world where our wishes are fulfilled just by the fact of imagining them so. ↗

— Yannick Heywang

#exist #fulfilled #imagine #imagining #wish

The point is, you need to distinguish between what honestly moves you and what the world is telling you should melt your heart. If something doesn’t reach you on a personal level, let it go. It’s hard enough dealing with everything that does. ↗

— Judi Culbertson

#organization-wisdom #dreams

Will you stay out of it?” he clipped. “She’s holdin’ onto me, bud, I’d say I’m in it,” Tate returned. ↗

— Kristen Ashley

#dreams

No rest without love, no sleep without dreams of love- be mad or chill obsessed with angels or machines, the final wish is love -cannot be bitter, cannot deny, cannot withhold if denied: the weight is too heavy ↗

— Allen Ginsberg

#love #poem #dreams

Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?" My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. "Um," I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. "Sometimes." "How about now?" he asked. And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: "Susannah. Susannah.... ↗

— Meg Cabot

#jesse-de-silva #susannah-simon #suze-simon #the-mediator #dreams

I wish I could go to Paris right now. ↗

— Emily J. Proctor

#paris #wishing #dreams

It seems that I have been held in some dreaming state A tourist in the waking world world, never quite awake. No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber, Until I realised that it was you who held me under. ↗

— Florence + the Machine

#florence-and-the-machine #kiss #dreams

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I love the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. ↗

— John Clare

#dreams