I walked into my own book, seeking peace.It was night, and I made a careless movement inside the dream; I turned too brusquely the corner and I bruised myself against my madness.

I will put warm woolen socks on the feet of the people in the other world; but I dream and cannot wake, and I am cast over the cliff and hang there by two fingers that are danced and trampled on by the giant unreality.

Creatures of a day, what is any one? What is he not? Man is but a dream of a shadow. Yet when there comes as a gift of heaven a gleam of sunshine, there rest upon men a radiant light and, aye, a gentle life.

And then, just at that moment, when I'm no longer sure if I'm dreaming or awake or walking some valley in between where everything you wish for comes true, I feel the flutter of his lips on mine.

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning.

May We Love Ourselves. May We Love Each Other.May We Believe that Our Dreams Can Come True.We Are Strong.We Are Wise.We Are the Heroines of our Own Lives -The Heroine’s Club benediction

Todo o reino de Fantasia assenta-se sobre alicerces de sonhos esquecidos." A História Sem Fim(The whole kingdom of Fantasy sits upon foundations of forgotten dreams - Endless Story).

to be still in the darkness to celebrate the lack of lightto see beauty where the patterns are stern gray austere still lifesthis is the quest for those who slumber beneath the dreaming treewaiting, waiting, waiting for signs of spring

I had a dream about you; you were a zombie in a post-apocalyptic world. I was the only human left, you tried to bite me and I said no. We became good friends.

Imagine a pleasure in which the moment of satisfaction is simultaneous with the moment of destruction: to kiss is to poison; lifting to your lips this face after which you have ached, dreamed, longed for, the face shatters, every time.