#dre

I sleep lightly and tread to keep my head out of the sea of dreams. ↗

— David Anthony Durham

#sleep #dreams

A dream doesn't die because it has no truth. It dies because you fail to nurture it. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#dream #nurture #truth #dreams

Hans Selye, the pioneer in the understanding of human stress, was often asked the following question: "What is the most stressful condition a person can face?" His unexpected response: "Not having something to BELIEVE in. ↗

— Hans Selye

#believe-in-yourself #believer #dreams

Sing to me," she said. "That would be valiant, to raise your voice in this dark, lonely place, and it will be useful as well. Sing to me, sing loudly-drown out my dreams, keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it. Sing to me, my lord prince, if it please you. It may not seem a hero's task, but I would be glad of it. ↗

— Peter S. Beagle

#hero #sing #dreams

Worry drains the mindof its power and, sooner or later, it injures the soul ↗

— Robin S. Sharma

#dreams

Leadership isn't something that people hand to you. ... [i]t's a gradual process, one where you take responsibility years before you are given authority. And that's something we can teach. ↗

— Seth Godin

#dreams

Sometimes life begins like a bad dream and ends up like a kid's fairytale. The kind our grandmothers used to tell us about sitting next to a fireplace, with their white braids shining under the fire's light. They knew that even in an era like ours, there is nothing wrong with dreaming.. ↗

— Georgia Kakalopoulou

#dreams

As I explore the wilderness of my own body, I see that I am made of blood and bones, sunlight and water, pesticide residues and redwood humus, the fears and dreams of generations of ancestors, particles of exploded stars. ↗

— Anne Cushman

#meditation #yoga #dreams

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn: It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond Stares. And you sing, you sing. That star-enchanted song falls through the air From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound, Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground; And all the night you sing. My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee As all night long I listen, and my brain Receives your song, then loses it again In moonlight on the lawn. Now is your voice a marble high and white, Then like a mist on fields of paradise, Now is a raging fire, then is like ice, Then breaks, and it is dawn. ↗

— Harold Monro

#nightingales #song #dreams

sure, we need the gypsies. we always have. because if you don't have someone to run out of town once in a while, how are you going to know you yourself belong there? ↗

— Stephen King

#dreams