#win

Muoth was right. On growing old, one becomes more contented than in one's youth, which I will not therefore revile, for in all my dreams I hear my youth like a wonderful song which now sounds more harmonious than it did in reality, and even sweeter ↗

— Hermann Hesse

#youth #dreams

At the end of my dream, Eve put the apple back on the branch. The tree went back into the ground. It became a sapling, which became a seed. ↗

— Jonathan Safran Foer

#rewind #tree #dreams

Hold the bottle up to the light; you will see your dreams are always at the bottom. ↗

— Rob Hutchison

#humor #wine #dreams

She told herself that she longed greatly to go back to those dear merry days when life was seen through a rosy mist of hope and illusion, and possessed an indefinable something that had passed away forever. Where was it now--the glory and the dream? ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#growing-up #life #dreams

You can get what you want or you can just get old. ↗

— Billy Joel

#growing-up #dreams

Sometimes I wait at the bottom of those dark stairs, I sit at the bottom of the stairs, I wait beyond the bottom of the stairs and listen to the sounds my wife and children make as they sleep, the sounds our animals make as they step carefully through our dreams and out the other side to polished floor and cold window. Sometimes I wait so long I become unsure if I am asleep, or awake, or dead. ↗

— Steve Rasnic Tem

#awake #children #cold-window #dead #dreams

Obama: "I will stand with the Muslims..." Free Republic ^ | September 13, 2012 | me Posted on Thu Sep 13 2012 05:10:23 GMT-0600 (Mountain Daylight Time) by Bon mots In his ghost-written (by William Ayers) 'autobiography', "Dreams of My Father", Barack Hussein Obama said, "I will stand with the Muslims should the political winds shift in an ugly direction... ↗

— Barack Obama

#political-winds-shift #dreams

The bleak autumn wind was still blowing, and the solemn, surging moan of it in the wood was dreary and awful to hear through the night silence. Issac felt strangely wakeful. He resolved, as he lay down in bed, to keep the candle alight until he began to grow sleepy; for there was something unendurably depressing in the bare idea of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal, ceaseless moan of the wind in the wood. ("The Dream Woman") ↗

— Wilkie Collins

#night #wind #dreams

That night, Gregory dreamt of his mother. It was a dream that he'd have carried to his therapist like a raw, precious egg if he'd had a therapist, and the dream made him wish he had one. In the dream, he sat in the kitchen of his mother's house at the table on his usual place. He could hear her handle pots and pans and sigh occasionally. Sitting there filled his heart with sadness and also with a long missed feeling of comfort until he realised that the chair and the table were much too small for him: it was a child's chair and he could barely fit his long legs under the table. He was worried that his mother might scold him for being so large and for not wearing pants. Gregory, in the dream, felt his manhood press against his belly while he was crouching uncomfortably, not daring to move. ↗

— Marcus Speh

#dream #family #growing-up #mother #dreams

She and Marie were Montreal girls, not trained to accompany heroes, or to hold out for dreams, but just to be patient. ↗

— Mavis Gallant

#montreal #patience #winter #dreams