#dr

She was more magnificent than any goddess. Addictive passion on two gorgeous,endless legs, between which he'd found a heaven far better than any mortal had dreamed or god had promised. ↗

— Olivia Gates

#indomitable #insatiable #dreams

You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling. ↗

— Eames

#inception-the-shooting-script #dreams

Good characters make you feel like you have new friends, don’t they? You have to re-read the books just to visit with them again. Grace Awakening. Book one: Awakening Dreams ↗

— Shawn L. Bird

#friends #reading #dreams

We all woke up this morning and we had with it the amazing return of our conscious mind. We recovered minds with a complete sense of self and a complete sense of our own existence — yet we hardly ever pause to consider this wonder. ↗

— António R. Damásio

#consciousness #dreams #sleep #dreams

Breath, dreams, silence, invincible calm, you triumph. ↗

— Paul Valéry

#dreams

The gunslinger waited for the time of the drawing and dreamed his long dreams of the Dark Tower, to which he would some day come at dusk and approach, winding his horn, to do some unimaginable final battle. ↗

— Stephen King

#dreams

Dream up a book on Monday, publish it on Friday. ↗

— Jill Novak

#publishing #dreams

She'd slept terribly the night before. The room, the bed, were both comfortable enough, but she'd been plagued with strange dreams, the sort that lingered upon waking but slithered away from memory as she tried to grasp them. Only the tendrils of discomfort remained. ↗

— Kate Morton

#dreams #sleep #uneasiness #dreams

Look at it, Dane. Look at the city and the world in its proud array, like a cask of jewels laid open for you. It'll offer you everything you ever wanted but it's just pictures on billboards; dream cars, dream women, dream houses. Time to wake up now and say goodbye. Remember, Dane: there's other worlds out there. It's only empty air here. Jump out of the world, jump to the place I showed you and you'll not fall. Are you ready? Are you ready to jump right off the edge of everything? ↗

— Grant Morrison

#dreams

THE HOST is riding from Knocknarea And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare; Caolte tossing his burning hair And Niamh calling Away, come away: Empty your heart of its mortal dream. The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round, Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam, Our arms are waving, our lips are apart; And if any gaze on our rushing band, We come between him and the deed of his hand, We come between him and the hope of his heart. The host is rushing ’twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair? Caolte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away ↗

— W.B. Yeats

#dreams