#nin

Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#into-the-dreaming #karen-marie-moning #dreams

...The heart mourns people and places and returns to them in dreams... ↗

— John Geddes

#mourning #people-and-places #dreams

Awakened by a thousand dogs, a passing truck, the tailspin of a poisoned mosquito (or, perhaps, merely the silence of my dreams), I had, before remembering who and where I was, seen only that green sun suspended in the firmament of my room (her uterus bottled in preserving fluids) and, through seconds that became millennia, millennia aeons, felt the steadfastness of my orbit around that cold glow of love, a marvelous fatal steadfastness, before my pupils dilated and shadows and unease once more defined reality, the steel box naked but for a mattress and insomnious bugs where I had lived, in a coma of heartbreak and drunkenness, the six months since Primavera's death. ↗

— Richard Calder

#death

Why were Jack and his brother digging post holes? A fence there would run parallel to the one that already enclosed the farmyard. The Welches had no animals to keep in or out - a fence there could serve no purpose. Their work was pointless. Years later, while I was waiting for a boat to take me across the river, I watched two Vietnamese women methodically hitting a discarded truck tire with sticks. They did it for a good long while, and were still doing it when I crossed the river. They were part of the dream from which I recognized the Welches, my defeat-dream, my damnation-dream, with its solemn choreography of earnest useless acts. ↗

— Tobias Wolff

#meaning #uselessness #dreams

Into the day as by dream I swim To the music of nourished meaning. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#day #dejan-stojanovic #dream #dreams #literature

No Temple made by mortal human hands can ever compare to the Temple made by the gods themselves. That building of wood and stone that houses us and that many believe conceals the great Secret Temple from prying eyes, somewhere in its heart of hearts, is but a decoy for the masses who need this simple concrete limited thing in their lives. The real Temple is the whole world, and there is nothing as divinely blessed as a blooming growing garden. ↗

— Vera Nazarian

#bloom #blooming #church #deity #faith

I transform "Work" in its analytic meaning (the Work of Mourning, the Dream-Work) into the real "Work" - of writing.) for: the "Work" by which (it is said) we emerge from the great crises (love, grief) cannot be liquidated hastily: for me, it is accomplished only in and by writing. ↗

— Roland Barthes

#grief #mourning #writing #dreams

Qué lindo es sonar despierto, he says. How lovely it is to dream while you are awake. Dream while you are awake, Andre. Anybody can dream while they're asleep, but you need to dream all the time, and say your dreams out loud, and believe in them. In other words, when in the final of a slam, I must dream. I must play to win. ↗

— Andre Agassi

#winning #dreams

Is this your bedroom?" she asked, and turned to look at him. Myrnin straightened and jammed the big red floppy hat back on his head. The feathers waved back and forth. "Don't get any ideas," he said. "I'm far too young and innocent for that kind of thinking. ↗

— Rachel Caine

#ghost-town #myrnin #ghost

Oh, Claire," he said. "You think me a far better man than I am. That's kind, and flattering." "Are you saying that you -" "Doughnuts!" Myrnin interrupted her and darted away, to zip back in seconds with an open box. ↗

— Rachel Caine

#doughnuts #ghost-town #morganville-vampires #myrnin #rachel-caine